Chapter 16.

During his first week at Rick’s cottage, Josh began riding the bike Vicky had given him. He’d hardly used it while he was staying at Barbara’s, in spite of Vicky’s suggestion that he should ride it to the beach, improving his fitness at the same time that he healed his psyche. In fact, this suggestion/instruction was so annoying that Josh had driven his car to the beach instead, and left the bike out in the rain.

But now, to prove that he’d achieved closure and moved on to a better stage of life, Josh decided to oil his bike and ride it to work. Pedaling past a field on Old Farm Road that first morning, breathing in the fragrance of new-mown hay, he felt justly rewarded. At the end of the day, he felt tired but virtuous.

The second day it rained. Obviously he couldn’t be expected to bike in the rain.

The third day he rode the bike again, but he was beginning to think he didn’t need to be so rigid about doing this all the time. Today the air was heavy, even early in the morning—and he had to leave the cottage earlier than usual if he biked. Probably it wasn’t healthy to bike in humid weather. Also, feeling every rock and rut in the lane through bicycle tires made the ride seem twice as long.

Furthermore, after his stop at Cumby’s, Josh had coffee to hold while balancing on the bike. Back when he was in graduate school, he’d done that trick easily. Maybe with practice, the knack would come back to him.

As Josh pedaled past the dairy farm, slopping coffee, the phone in his shorts pocket sounded its generic ring. He kept meaning to replace it with something distinctive, like the opening bars of “Ring of Fire.”

Josh swerved onto the shoulder, set the cup on a fence post, and dug his phone out. It was his sister again—why, at this time of day? He felt a flicker of worry about their mother. He should have called Vicky back before now. “Hey, Vic.”

“Finally!” said his sister. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, but not too sorry, because you didn’t return my calls.” She spoke against a background of rattling and talking—she must be on a commuter train.

“I’m sorry,” said Josh, gazing over the pasture, where cows ambled and a wind turbine spun. “The trouble is, I can’t get a signal where I’m staying. And I’m not supposed to make personal calls at work.”

“Never mind,” said Vicky. “How’s your rental working out? Melissa said she had to hunt to find a place for you.”

“Yeah, I really appreciated that,” said Josh, trying for a sincere tone. Should he tell Vicky he’d left Barbara’s, and why? Vicky would probably think his landlady’s bossy rules were perfectly reasonable. Or no; Vicky would take Josh’s side, but instruct Josh on how he should deal with Barbara.

While Josh hesitated, Vicky went on, “The reason I’m calling is, can we have dinner this weekend? Friday night? I’ll take you out for your birthday.”

His birthday. Josh had forgotten that was coming up. This was a chance to show Vicky how much he’d matured. “Sure, let’s have dinner,” he said, “but let me take you out. You already gave me the bike.”

“Good, it’s a date! Um—” She paused. “Listen, I’m a little concerned about something. Mom says you’re thinking of starting your own business.”

“Yeah.” Josh wished he hadn’t told his mother that. “I’m exploring some opportunities.”

“Oh, Josh.” Another pause. “Before you get financially involved in anything, I have to tell you—”

“Excuse me, sorry, thanks for calling, but I have to get to work,” said Josh. “Talk to you—”

“Work?” Vicky interrupted. “You mentioned work before. What work?”

“At a doggie day care kennel.”

“Doggie day care?”

“Vic? Vic? I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” Josh pushed the phone into his pocket and swung back onto the road.

At Coastal Canine, the black Lexus was lurking in the parking lot, early again. Josh’s ring finger was still swollen from his first encounter with the retractable leash, and he did not return Tricia’s smile as she handed over the Irish setter. Not that she cared. Not that she even said “Thank you” as she drove away.

Finding Erica in the office, Josh opened his mouth to protest about Tricia, but Erica spoke first. “Josh. You know that the Beginning Obedience class starts this Friday? I’m so pleased this is getting off the ground. Come in when you take your break, and I’ll show you the setup.”

“Okay, great.” Josh stowed his complaints for the moment, but he muttered to the Irish setter as he ushered him through the back rooms. “And furthermore, Tricia shouldn’t be allowed to own a perfectly good dog—maybe a little hyper—like you.”

Later that morning, Josh took a mugful of coffee and followed Erica to the exercise shed. She pointed out the whiteboard, the folding chairs, and the spray cleaner and paper towels. Reading the Beginning Obedience flyer she’d sent out to customers, Josh was impressed with her detail. “You really have to spell it out for them, don’t you?” he remarked. “I mean, things like ‘All dogs must be on leash’ and ‘bring treats to motivate your dog.’ ”

“Yep, you really do. Keep it simple. Repeat as necessary.” Closing up the shed again, Erica smiled and nodded at Josh’s coffee mug. “The ‘World’s Best Teacher’ shouldn’t have any trouble.”

At noontime Josh pedaled up the road to Soule’s Market & Deli, sweating and looking forward to the AC in the market. Rolling his bike into the bicycle rack, he glanced over at the Pooch Park, the set of carports providing shade for customers’ dogs. He realized now what had been bothering him from the first day he rode his bike: it meant leaving his car, with Molly’s ashes in the backseat, unattended all day. But what could happen? He didn’t know; it just bothered him.

In the market, Josh added a Found Cat poster to the Soule’s bulletin board. With luck, this would be his last day as a cat host. Joining a checkout line a short while later, he pulled out his phone and found a text message from Vicky: Meant to remind you: call Mom. Yeah, yeah.

Where to eat lunch today? Josh liked sitting out on Soule’s patio, but he might be joined by Rick Johnson again, and he saw plenty of Rick these days. As Josh set his bottle and cardboard clamshell on the conveyer belt, he heard a husky voice behind him. “Hey, Coastal Canine?”

“Hey, Danielle!” Josh watched her put down a divider and place her own clamshell and bottle on the belt. “I’m Josh, by the way. Are you eating here?” He nodded toward the patio outside the doors. “Be my guest.” He lifted the divider and set it down behind her order.

“Oh—thanks!” Danielle seemed sincerely glad to see him.

Now that Josh thought of it, she’d looked as if she wanted to say something to him, earlier this morning. Paying for both of them, he remarked jokingly, “I know how to show a girl a good time.”

They found a free table with a strip of shade, although it was pretty warm even in the shade. As Danielle opened her mac and cheese, she asked, “Do you know if the shelter placed that cat, the one who looks like a panda? I hope he finds a good home.”

Josh started to explain that he still had the cat, and if Danielle knew of anyone who was interested—

Peering suddenly at Josh’s lunch, Danielle interrupted him. “What’re you eating, guinea pig feed?”

“Tabouli,” said Josh, “but I have to admit your lunch looks better than mine.” He lifted his bottle of acai berry juice. “So, here’s to summertime.”

Danielle lifted her iced tea bottle in response, but her smile faded. “To tell you the truth, I’m not such a big fan of summertime these days, because—”

“Really? I feel like I’m just beginning to enjoy it. After nine months of teaching middle school kids—”

“You’re a teacher?” Danielle brightened. “That’s even better. I’m glad I ran into you, because what I wanted to ask you—”

“But I’m not a teacher anymore.” Were some women especially attracted to teachers? Josh doubted it. “I’m, um, in transition to a new career.”

Danielle waved a hand. “Okay, but you’re used to dealing with teenagers.” She smiled apologetically. “I hope you don’t think I’m one of those helicopter moms, but I feel like Ryan is at a turning point, you know what I mean? Just a little nudge one way or the other could make all the difference. And you working at the kennel with him . . .”

“Oh, Ryan.” Josh connected Danielle with the youth he’d met at Coastal Canine.

“He’s super-smart in some ways,” she went on. “He does really well in math and science, and he has a scholarship to U. Mass. Dartmouth. But in other ways, he doesn’t have the sense of a stump.” She laughed unhappily. “Like about girls.”

“That sounds like some of the kids I teach—I used to teach,” said Josh. “Sometimes they amazed me, though.” He started to tell her about Curtis Gill.

“I think he’s been spending time with this older girl, Jordan.” Danielle poked at her mac and cheese. “I’m afraid she’ll get him to do something stupid, like dealing weed to high school kids.” She looked up at Josh. “So if you could just give him a word to the wise . . .”

“Well, okay.” Josh doubted that Ryan would listen to any warning from him about the dangers of wild women. Would a good deed that didn’t work count on the List? Maybe only 10 percent. “When I get a chance. But I don’t see Ryan every day.” In fact, Josh hadn’t seen Ryan since the day he was hired.

“Thank you. I know it’s not your problem, but—” Danielle leaned forward earnestly. “I just figure, the more people looking out for him, the better. A couple of times, the fire department brought him home.”

“The fire department?”

“I know; he’s lucky it wasn’t the police! Well, it’s not just luck. The police don’t really want to deal with kids who light bonfires on the Neck, they’ve got stuff like break-ins and drug busts to worry about. So they call the firemen—it is a fire hazard, after all—and the firemen go chase the kids off. Neil—that’s one of the firemen—has been really nice to Ryan and his brain-dead friends. Not that they appreciate it.” Danielle took a deep breath, let it out, and glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

Josh felt an opportunity slipping away. “Hey, this was fun.” To be honest, Danielle was turning out to be more complicated than he’d expected, but still more relatable than Rune. “Want to go out for a glass of wine or whatever sometime?”

“Like tomorrow night? Let me look at my schedule, and I’ll tell you for sure.” They traded phone numbers, and Danielle cast him a smile. “Don’t forget, next time you see Ryan . . .”

As Josh dropped his clamshell box into the trash barrel, he reflected that dating was a lot of effort for what might not be much return on investment. ROI, as they said in the business world, which he planned to enter as soon as he found the right opportunity.

 

The next morning Josh woke up late, after an interrupted night’s sleep. He confronted Rick in the kitchenette. “What the hell were you doing last night?”

“Pepper had a nightmare, didn’t you, Peps.” Rick spooned premium dog pâté into a dish labeled “Pepper.” “Had to let her out and then walk her around the house for a while, calm her down.” He nudged away the black and white cat, which was showing too much interest in the dog’s food.

“Uh-huh,” growled Josh. “Did you have to smoke a pack of cigarettes in the process and blow the smoke under my door?”

“Sheesh, I didn’t know you were such a princess.” Stopping in mid-snicker, Rick pointed the spoon at Josh. “You know what your problem is? Same as my problem: working for a living.”

“Oh? What’s your solution? Marry for money? Win the lottery?”

“I heard about a opportunity,” said Rick coolly. “Gonna meet a guy tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Josh stalked out the door. He was not going to let Rick’s screwed-up way of life keep him from following his new program. But in order to get to the kennel in time, Josh would have to drive instead of biking, plus he was going to have to skip Cumby’s.

To top it off, as Josh rounded the last curve in the road to Coastal Canine, he spotted Tricia’s black Lexus. Again. This was so wrong. Behavior modification 101: When an animal behaves badly, it’s getting some kind of reward for that behavior. To change the behavior, remove the reward.

Before Tricia could open her car door, Josh was out of his car and headed for the back of the kennel grounds.

“Excuse me!” called Tricia, holding up the handle of her leash.

“Open at seven,” Josh called over his shoulder, tapping his watch. “Coastal Canine rules, no exceptions.” He ducked around the fence and into the pen, bolting the gate from the inside, in case she tried to follow. Instead, he heard a scream from the parking lot.

Peering through a crack in the fence, Josh saw the Irish setter pawing at the open back window of the Honda Civic, while the black and white cat watched its would-be attacker from the back shelf. Tricia stumbled across the gravel, hanging onto the retractable leash. Josh smiled. Maybe the leash would snap painfully against her finger.

In the exercise yard, Josh began working industriously at wood-chip raking and water-bucket filling. A few minutes later, he turned a bland face to Rune as she appeared at the back door of the kennel.

Rune released the Irish setter into the Large Dogs pen, where he raced back and forth between Josh and the retrievers’ section. “Tricia’s in the office, complaining to Erica about you. She said you wouldn’t take her dog in for her.”

“She tried to drop him off before seven,” Josh said. “Don’t we open at seven?”

“I guess Tricia was under a lot of pressure to get to work early,” said Rune. She added primly, “For Erica, it’s not worth offending a regular customer over five minutes. She’s running a business, you know.”

Josh snorted. Now Ms. Wicca was giving out business advice? “I’d say that depends on the customer.”

“Furthermore,” said Rune, “you’ve gotten poor Murphy all agitated. You’d better start throwing balls.”

 

Late that afternoon a red landscaping truck rattled into the back of the kennel grounds. “Finally,” said Erica, watching the wood chips pour onto a pile beside the exercise shed.

But it turned out that Rick had brought less than half a load. “The chipper’s broken,” he explained to a dissatisfied Erica. “I can get the rest first thing tomorrow.” As Rick fastened the tailgate of his truck, he spoke to Josh in a lower voice. “You interested in a free meal? That guy wants to talk to me about a investment, going to meet him at the Moby Dick. He said to bring a friend if I want.”

A friend? What a joke. Josh, shoveling wood chips into the wheelbarrow, started to say no. But then he thought, What was wrong with enjoying a free drink, while he let Rick’s “guy” pitch a deal? For the last several days Josh had proved that he could lead a disciplined life, and now he was tired and thirsty. He deserved to get something for nothing, even if it was only a bottle of Buzzards Bay craft-brewed golden ale.

 

 

 

 

As every cat owner knows, nobody owns a cat.

Ellen Perry Berkeley