Chapter 9.

Driving along the winding road to the kennel, Josh had all four windows open to the morning breeze. With each change of scenery along the route, fresh smells blew into the car, and Josh called them out to the backseat. Passing the campground: “Pine trees!” The long bramble-covered stone wall: “Roses!” As the road crossed a creek: “Cattails!”

Josh thought fondly of his sister, Vicky, giving her full credit for bringing him to Mattakiset. He’d rejected her idea at first, mainly because (as he told himself at the time) he could fucking well run his own life without help from his older sister. Wasn’t it enough satisfaction, that she’d been right about Tanya? Vicky (he’d added snidely to himself) evidently didn’t have enough to do, now that both her kids were away at college.

And Josh had been unfairly critical of Vicky’s real estate friend, Melissa, burbling about the attractions of Mattakiset. “It’s just an unsung gem,” she’d assured him. Unsung gem? He’d snickered to himself.

How perversely ungrateful he’d been. Josh was lucky to land in Barbara Schaeffer’s apartment. Yeah, Barbara could be a pain, but she meant well.

In the Cumberland Farms parking lot, the air was scented with gasoline and Dumpster, but that was okay, for a little contrast. “Cumby’s!” Josh called to the backseat.

Josh felt a warm kinship with the other early risers at the gas pumps and in the parking spaces. They were the people who did the real work of the world: lobstermen, landscapers, dog day care attendants. In the store he waved to the blonde clerk, and she waved back.

Outside again, savoring his first sip of the roasty-toasty Cumby’s special blend with half and half, Josh had an insight. The List. He shouldn’t drop the List just because he felt good. He could stretch beyond 100 percent, leveraging his well-being for someone else’s benefit.

Rune, for instance. Even if she’d enjoyed the end of the evening as much as Josh had—and he was pretty sure she had—it would be gallant to show his appreciation. She might be dwelling on a different planet, but they’d intersected where it mattered most. A dozen red roses would be appropriate, damn the expense. He had time to swing by Soule’s Market.

The kennel was already busy when Josh checked in, and no one except Uncle George remarked on the large bunch of roses. “For me?” asked the old man. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

Josh stowed the bouquet in the staff room until he could present them properly to Rune. As he hurried back to the office, a black nose poked through the front doorway. Tucker panted hoarsely, straining against his collar with his front paws in the air. Behind him, leaning backward on the leash with a grim expression, was Gardner Harrison.

“Tucker!” said Josh. The dog gave an extra leap toward Josh, and Harrison gritted his teeth.

Uncle George, setting down the phone, opened his mouth in alarm. “That mutt’ll jerk you off your feet before you can say ‘pelvic fracture’.”

Grabbing the leash, Josh turned his shoulder to keep Tucker from jumping up, then bent down to reward the dog with a kiss. To Harrison he said, “You know, when a dog pulls on the leash like that, you can discourage the behavior by standing still. That teaches him that if he pulls, he doesn’t go anywhere. Right, Tuck?”

Tucker dodged Josh’s hands to shove his nose into Josh’s crotch. Harrison said, “Shouldn’t you discourage that behavior?”

Tucker gave a thoughtful snort. Uncle George smiled to himself. Gardner Harrison was out the door with a Good riddance glance.

At the other end of the kennel, Tucker tried to leap toward the back door, but Josh didn’t move. “Whoa. Tucker. Wait.” The dog turned to look at Josh. “Tucker, sit.” As the dog’s hindquarters touched the floor, Josh exclaimed, “Good job!” and gave him a pat. It occurred to him that he was doing Gardner and Carol Harrison a big favor, training their dog for them. On the scale of the List, the good deed of dog training for free made Josh feel 20 percent better, so now he was at, what—140 percent?

Josh let Tucker into the exercise yard, where Rune was raking wood chips around the playground equipment. “Hey, Rune!” he called.

Tucker skidded to a stop at Rune’s feet, and she greeted him with a kiss. “Hey, Josh. Did Erica say when Rick was going to deliver more wood chips? We’re running low.” She continued raking.

Josh felt uncertain. He started to call, “I brought you something!” but changed his mind. Maybe he should tend to business and let Rune discover the bouquet on her break.

It was a busy morning, with the full number of dogs in day care. Erica asked Josh to take some shots of the Large Dogs with his phone. “I’m revamping our Facebook page,” she said. “Customers like to see pictures of their dogs.” She added, “Maybe this will stir up business.”

Josh found taking the pictures more difficult than he expected, partly because he was laughing the whole time. The ones of Tucker playing with Buster were blurred. The one of Lola digging in the wood chips was basically a picture of flying wood chips, obscuring a shaggy animal that might or might not be Lola. And just when Josh thought he had a fetching angle on Tucker, the dog lunged at the phone and almost knocked Josh over.

At last Josh had a decent collection of dog shots to download onto the office computer. Erica watched, nodding approval. “Yes, yes, and yes. I can use all of those . . . except maybe that.” She pointed to a shot of a Doberman politely sniffing Tucker’s butt. “By the way, are you interested in teaching a Beginning Obedience class? If so, I’ll send our customers an email blast and see how much of a response I get.”

“Sure, great.” That might be fun. Josh had taught kids, and he’d taught dogs, but he’d never taught adults. They’d be smarter than dogs, and more respectful than kids, right? A piece of cake.

In the staff room, Josh noticed that his red roses were looking tired. You idiot, Josh told himself. Of course flowers needed to be in water. He picked up his “World’s Best Teacher” coffee mug, then put it down—too small.

Finding an empty coffee can, Josh filled it at the sink and stuck the rose stems in. That should revive them. After Rune took her break and discovered the bouquet, he could admit that he’d brought them for her. Although it would be classier if she could discover them in a vase, instead of a coffee can.

But after her break, Rune showed no sign of having discovered anything. She must not have made the connection between the red roses in the staff room and last night. Or, was she mad at him? Mad at him for what?

Tanya had expressed anger at Josh by becoming remote, but Rune seemed to be merely going about the doggie day care tasks while thinking of something else. But then, he didn’t know Rune very well, and he’d never known anyone quite so . . . New Age.

At noon, when the dogs were settled in their private kennels, Josh caught up with Rune in the staff room. Her back turned to him, she was examining the bouquet in the coffee can, tilting it this way and that. Shit. There was a price tag on the cellophane wrap.

“I brought those for you,” he said. “But I forgot to take the price tag off. Uncool, Josh!” He laughed uneasily.

“You brought these flowers for me?” Rune’s tone of voice might have been saying, You brought these used tampons for me?

Josh was taken aback. “I—I thought you liked flowers, so . . .”

With a heavy sigh, Rune launched into a lecture. Did he not realize that these were non-native flowers? Grown in Latin American countries by exploited workers? Flown to the United States on an airplane that generated fifty-three pounds of carbon dioxide per mile? “You have a lot to learn, Josh,” she finished. “Too bad you didn’t just donate the money to Fur-Ever.”

“All right,” said Josh slowly, his face warm. “I’ll give you a check for the cat shelter.” He unzipped his backpack.

“By the way,” Rune went on, watching Josh write in his checkbook, “I did a reading for me and you.”

“A reading. A Tarot card reading, you mean?” Josh was startled at her serious tone. Was she, against his assumptions, about to demand a deeper commitment?

Rune nodded. “So . . . it looks like we should just be friends from now on.” She spoke regretfully, as if Josh were a dog she was culling from the Large Dogs Play Group.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t get upset—there’s nothing wrong, really. It’s just that the Chariot kept coming up for you, like you should concentrate on your own goals right now.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Josh. “I mean, I appreciate the advice, but I think I can handle my goals.”

Rune sighed, looking down at the limp roses. To herself she muttered, “Not even good for compost— they’re grown with all those toxic poisons.” To Josh she went on, “And not only that, but what turned up for me was the Three of Swords. In other words, there’s probably a third party involved, and it’ll only lead to trouble. So . . . a dead end, you and me romantically.”

Smiling reassuringly, she plucked the check for Fur-Ever from his hand. “But no problem with staying friends.”

“The Three of Swords. The Chariot.” Josh meant his tone of voice to sound ironic and detached, but it came out petulant. “Well. This is the first time I’ve ever been dumped with a Tarot reading.”

Rune tucked his check into her hemp tote bag.

 

A short while later, Josh arrived at Soule’s Market and Deli, stewing. What was going on with Rune? Did she sense that he was also attracted to Danielle? Did she think he was too needy? Or was that Tarot talk just an inventive way to blow him off?

Josh ordered his lunch at the deli counter and carried it out to one of the wobbly cast-iron tables on Soule’s patio. Smarting from Rune’s rejection, he could think of several other things to feel resentful about. The tone his sister took with him, as if he were eight years old again and she was sixteen, telling him when to go to bed. Barbara’s helpful infuriating instructions. And most enormously of all, Principal Charlotte Voss signing him up for a sensitivity workshop.

Whoa! Don’t go there.

“Mind if I join you?” It was Rick Johnson, setting down a cardboard clamshell and pulling out a chair opposite Josh with a metallic scrape. His T-shirt was streaked with green, and grass clippings clung to the bill of his Red Sox cap.

“Sure,” said Josh, glad for a distraction. Even as he spoke, he realized that “Sure” was a potentially confusing response, but then he realized further that Rick was not tuned in to such nuances. He was already in the chair, destabilizing the table with his elbows, chomping on a Buffalo wing. Josh regretted his own tofu salad and pomegranate juice, chosen to balance last night’s butter and wine.

Rick nodded at Josh’s Coastal Canine T-shirt. “How d’you like working at the kennel?”

“It’s good. I like the dogs,” said Josh.

“Yeah, I’ll take them over people any time.” Rick gestured toward his truck in the Pooch Park carports at the far end of the parking lot. “I’ve got a Jack Russell terrier, Pepper, goes everywhere with me.” Rick’s normally dour expression softened. “Smart! That dog could do my bookkeeping for me. She—”

Rick broke off to glare at someone behind Josh. “Asshole. I never should have rented from him.” Josh turned and saw Gardner Harrison pushing a shopping cart out of the market. Josh raised his eyebrows, and Rick went on, “But it was the only place I could find, when my wife threw me out.”

Josh gave a short laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Rick grunted sympathetically. “You too, huh? Bitches, all of ‘em.” He cleared chicken from his teeth with his forefinger and sucked Buffalo sauce from his mustache. “Yeah, I’m staying in one of Harrison’s cottages. The deal is, instead of paying rent, I do landscaping for him. I must have planted forty fucking hydrangeas around his house, and I’m not through yet. Worth a lot more than the rent of that shitbox cottage. He must have got his appliances at the dump.”

Rick went on to detail the decrepitude of the clothes dryer in his cottage. “Every time it starts up, it goes Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!”

“Be thankful you have a dryer,” said Josh. “Barbara Schaeffer wants to make everyone hang their wash on clotheslines.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re renting from Mrs. Schaeffer.” Rick smiled slyly. “She gave me a D in algebra. How much is she clipping you for that apartment?”

Josh told him, and Rick shook his head, still smiling. “Unbelievable.”

“Believe it,” said Josh curtly. “Anyway, it was only half as much as the ones on Cape Cod.”

Rick leaned back, tilting his head to the side. “What if you sub-rented from me, for half of that? There’s an extra bedroom in my cottage.”

Josh laughed. “Why would I want to move into Harrison’s ‘shitbox’?”

Rick laughed, too. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? It’s not so bad. At least it’s got a dish for TV. Come by and take a look. You know the Camp Seaside sign on Old Farm Road? Turn in there, watch out you don’t bust your axle on the potholes. It’s the first cottage on the left.”

 

Josh didn’t want to room with Rick Johnson, but it bothered him to think he was paying too much for Barbara’s apartment. Driving along Old Farm Road after work, he had an idea: He could leverage Rick’s offer to get Barbara to reduce his rent.

At the farmhouse Josh found his landlady sitting on her doorstep, brushing Lola’s shaggy coat. She waved at Josh, and she nodded approvingly as he parked on the gravel, not on the stretch of lawn she was pampering. But when he mentioned that he’d been offered a cheaper rental, she seemed bewildered, then hurt, then offended.

“I need to watch my expenses,” said Josh. He was looking at the dog as he spoke, but he could feel Barbara’s direct pale blue gaze on him.

“You do realize that I couldn’t give you a rebate on the rest of this month’s rent,” said Barbara. She picked a burr out of Lola’s coat. “May I ask where this other rental is?”

“It’s off of Old Farm Road, farther up. Camp Seaside?”

“Oh, yes,” said Barbara. “One of those shacks on concrete blocks. It used to be a summer camp, and Gardner Harrison bought it up. People call it ‘Mosquito Village’.”

“This other place has a satellite dish,” said Josh. “TV sports reception.” Trying to lighten up the discussion, he added, “Hey, I can’t help it—I’m a Red Sox addict.”

“Of course the choice is up to you,” said Barbara. “But as far as the money goes, another expense, if you leave, would be repairs to my apartment. I was going to speak to you about the damage to the floor. The window must have been left open in the rain, because the linoleum there is curling up.” She stood and turned to go in the house, followed by her dog. Lola paused in the kitchen doorway to regard Josh with reproachful pale eyes.

Josh climbed back into his car, remarking to the backseat, “Well, that was a total flop.” To top it off, the Sox weren’t playing tonight. He might as well try that Chinese place on Route 6 that Rune had mentioned. Any restaurant that threw pork into dishes indiscriminately couldn’t be all bad.

 

 

 

 

“I am the Cat who walks by himself, and I wish to come into your Cave.”

Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories