We hurried out to Dixie’s RV, where we found her sitting on the sofa hugging Chyna and crying.
“You were amazing,” B.J. said. “Your competition was pretty darned good too, but you dropped that witch like George Foreman dropped Joe Frazier.”
“Shush,” Monica Jill said, giving B.J. a shove. “Is Chyna okay?”
Dixie sniffed. “I think so, but . . . I knew she didn’t like me, and I expected her dirty tricks, like trying to cover my scent on the articles, but—”
“Speaking of that, how did you do it?” Madison asked. “I mean, she touched the dumbbell with your scent.”
“I trained my dogs to look for the hot scent and ignore all others. Plus, Chyna has always been really reliable.” She snuggled her face in Chyna’s coat.
“I’d say she deserves a huge jackpot,” I said.
“I almost forgot.” Dixie hopped up and went to the treat jar. She pulled out a large pile of dried liver and placed it in front of Chyna.
All the other dogs immediately gave Dixie and the liver their full and complete attention, and she disbursed a small treat to each of them.
“So, what happens now?” I asked.
Dixie shook her head. “If she doesn’t have me arrested for assault . . .” She glanced at Red.
He held his hands up. “I didn’t see anything.”
“It doesn’t matter, there are plenty of videotapes. I’ll probably be banned from competing for the rest of my life. I’ll lose my ability to judge. In fact, I’ll probably be banned from all dog shows for life.” She took a deep breath and looked lovingly down at Chyna. “But it was worth it.”
B.J. nudged Red. “Didn’t I tell you it would be on like Donkey Kong?” She cracked her knuckles and bounced on her feet. “I think we should go and rough her up some more.”
Monica Jill pinched B.J. “Would you stop that? We are not going to rough up anybody.” She winked. “No matter how much we may want to.”
Dixie smiled. “I appreciate all of you, but I am not encouraging violence.” She gave us all a stern look. “What I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have hit her, but . . .” She gave Chyna’s head a rub. “Chyna was working so hard. She knew this was important to me, and she was so good, despite everything Naomi did to her. She just gave it her all and worked so well, and when I saw Naomi deliberately step on her foot—and Chyna didn’t move, didn’t bark or snap or anything—I just couldn’t take it.” Her eyes overflowed.
I hugged Dixie. “I understand completely.” When we were done, Red handed me a handkerchief, and I wiped my eyes.
“Why don’t we give Dixie some time?” Red said. He tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “I need to talk to you.”
I turned to follow him out, but there was a knock on the door.
“Here it comes,” Dixie said. She stood tall and braced herself. “Come in.”
Lenora Houston climbed inside. She glanced around like a frightened cat. When her eyes landed on Red, she said, “You better come with me.”
In a flash, something switched. Red was no longer my boyfriend hanging out with friends on a Saturday morning. Instead, he was Red Olson, TBI officer. I’m not sure what he did or how, but he was all law enforcement. “Stay here.”
He followed Lenora Houston out of the RV.
We waited a half second and then followed him, leaving all of the dogs behind. Outside, we heard a loud commotion and followed the noise into the building.
Inside, there was a tight crowd and shouts. We pushed our way toward the front. Naomi Keller stood in the middle of the ring, drenched from head to toe with a sticky brown liquid.
“Is that . . . syrup?” Dixie asked.
B.J. sniffed. “Smells like it.”
“Mercy,” Monica Jill said.
Red grabbed a young woman wearing a Save the Greyhound T-shirt, who was holding a bucket that I guessed had once held the syrup. He dragged the woman out of the ring. The crowd parted to allow them to pass, whether from the sheer power of his authority or a desire to avoid getting the sticky syrup on them.
In the ring, Naomi Keller stood dripping with syrup, looking like a drenched rat.
“I kind of feel sorry for her now,” I said. At least I did until Lenora Houston rushed into the ring and handed the bedraggled judge a towel, only to have it tossed back in her face.
“Your club will be paying for this.” She waved her hands from her head to her feet. “You’re going to pay for all of this. I’ve been humiliated, assaulted and now this . . . UGH.” She stomped out of the ring.
A gray-haired man approached her. “Naomi, what on earth?”
“Don’t start with me, Warren.” Naomi shoved the man in the chest and left a sticky brown handprint on his previously pristine white shirt.
Dixie and Monica Jill stared at me. B.J. took it one step further and held up her hand like a wounded dog’s paw and gave me a sad look, reminding me of what Naomi had done to poor Chyna.
“I said I almost feel sorry for her.”
“Regardless of how you feel about the woman, you have to admit,” Dr. Morgan said, “Naomi Keller is having a very bad day.”
Outside, Red and a uniformed policeman were having an intense conversation with the man with the syrup handprint on his shirt, while the syrup-tosser sat in the back of a patrol car.
Try as I might, I couldn’t catch any of the conversation, even though Mr. Syrup Print was extremely animated and waved his arms as though he were directing traffic at Hamilton Place Mall during Christmas.
“I wonder what that’s all about.”
When the arm waving slowed to the level needed to land a plane on an aircraft carrier, the policeman opened the back door, releasing his captive.
A wave of emotion washed over me as I remembered the one time when I had been arrested. That open door reminded me how grateful I’d been to experience freedom after the authorities thought I’d killed my husband.
Monica Jill patted my back. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
B.J. gave me the Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Willis look. “Am I missing something?”
Once freed, Mr. Syrup Print attempted to place an arm around the syrup-tosser, but she wasn’t having it. We watched as she pushed him away, ran to a Mini Cooper, and sped down the road, spitting gravel in her wake.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” I asked.
Dixie sighed. “I think that means family time at the Kellers’ is going to be rough this year.”
We stared at Dixie.
“Brittney is Warren’s daughter and Naomi’s stepdaughter.”
Monica Jill, B.J., and I stood there, gawking at our friend.
“Wait a minute,” Monica Jill said, leaning forward. “You mean to tell me that man is Warren? The one Naomi Keller just treated like dirt inside the building is her husband?”
Dixie nodded.
B.J. put a hand on her hip and glanced down her nose. “Are you saying that the woman who just staged a protest at a dog show aimed at nothing but public humiliation . . . that girl who just threw syrup on a woman wearing a suit in front of a crowd of people . . . that was Naomi’s stepdaughter?”
Dixie nodded.
I shook my head like an Etch A Sketch to clear my brain, but still I had no words.
B.J. nudged Monica Jill. “This is going to be good. Let’s go.”
We headed toward the other massive RV parked at the club. Similar to Dixie, Naomi Keller had a luxury RV that looked large enough to house a third-world country. She had demanded access to water and electricity in her judging contract, so she was able to shower and remove the physical signs of her attack. Whether she was able to wash away the emotional signs was yet to be determined.
Red rejoined our group. He looked at me. “Hey, can we talk?”
I nodded and was about to follow him when a small red sports car sped through the parking lot. It barely missed B.J.’s SUV as it skidded to a stop.
“Hey, watch my car,” B.J. yelled.
The driver wasn’t listening and threw open the door and ran from her car toward Naomi Keller’s RV.
“Not again,” Red said. He passed Steve Austin’s leash back to me and rushed after the woman.
“This can’t be good,” Dixie said and hurried after him.
“What now?” B.J. asked.
I took several steps and noticed that Dr. Morgan wasn’t following. I turned to look back.
He shrugged. “I’ll pass on this drama.”
I handed him Steve Austin’s leash and then hurried after my friends. I followed the shouts to the RV. Red was already inside, and Dixie, Monica Jill, and B.J. were just inside the door.
“GET OUT!” Naomi Keller screamed.
“HOMEWRECKER! You filthy little adulteress.”
I heard Red trying to calm the two women. Based on the sound of their voices, I pitied him.
“You stay away from my husband, or I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you!”
Naomi Keller laughed.
There was a large crash as something breakable hit the wall.
“You’ll pay for that!” Naomi screamed.
B.J., Monica Jill, and Dixie scrambled down the stairs and outside just as Red descended. He had a bear hug on the woman and was practically carrying her down the stairs. She kicked and wiggled, but Red didn’t let go. Once he had her outside, he backed her against the RV.
“If you don’t settle down, I’ll be forced to handcuff you.”
The woman looked at him—really looked at him for what was probably the first time.
He held up his shield and a pair of handcuffs for her to see he meant business.
She stared for a few moments and then, like a balloon that has been deflated, slid to the ground and wailed.
Red looked at me as though to say, You have got to be joking.
Dixie, Monica Jill, and I hurried to his aid. We helped the woman up and into Dixie’s RV. The woman was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Dr. Morgan had been lounging with a lap full of German Shepherd, but once he caught sight of the hysterical woman, he helped us calm her down. When she finally stopped gasping for air and was able to breathe, we all relaxed.
Monica Jill made a cup of tea and passed it to her. Dixie got a blanket from a closet and wrapped it around the woman’s shoulders. Even B.J. made herself useful and stood by, fanning the woman with a magazine she’d found.
“Just try and relax.” Dixie plumped a pillow and stuck it behind the woman’s back.
Dr. Morgan removed two of the dogs from the sofa to allow the woman to recline.
Once she was situated, we stood by, staring at her. After a few awkward moments, she looked as though she wanted to say something but suddenly stopped, her lip quivering, and we could tell the waterworks were about to start again.
Dixie surprised us by grabbing the woman by the shoulders and giving her a shake. “Now, June, I know you’re upset, but you need to pull yourself together.”
Whether due to the shock of Dixie’s actions or not, the woman stared for several moments and then laughed. It started out as a chuckle but grew bigger. The laughter broke the tension, and everyone relaxed.
B.J. stopped fanning June and turned the magazine on herself. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to slap you.”
Monica Jill nudged her friend. “Will you stop scaring this poor woman.” She leaned down and said, “Please, don’t pay her any attention.”
“June, these are my friends,” Dixie said. “Monica Jill Nelson, Bobbie Jean Thompson.”
“Call me B.J.”
“Dr. Morgan.” Dixie pointed to the doctor, who gave a slight bow.
I smiled when Dixie pointed to me. “Lilly Ann Echosby.”
She turned to Red. “And this is Lilly Ann’s friend, Dennis Olson.”
Red stepped forward and held out a hand. “Please, call me Red.”
The smile she had on her face when introduced to the rest of us froze when she shook Red’s hand. However, Dixie smiled and chatted as though her friend hadn’t just had a minor breakdown. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet June Vannover.”
We all said hello.
Dr. Morgan stood. “I signed up for two trials, and I think it’s about time Max and I headed out for round two.”
If it were a real competition, we would only be able to enter once per day. However, since it was a mock trial and didn’t really count, Dixie encouraged us to sign up multiple times. However, I’d already missed my second trial, so I stayed.
“Snoball and I have another trial too,” B.J. said. She scooped up her little white highland terrier and reluctantly made her way toward the door. “Monica Jill, are you coming?”
“Jac and I have had our fill of public humiliation for one day, but I’ll come and cheer on my friends.”
B.J., Monica Jill, and Dr. Morgan left, taking their dogs with them, which left the RV a lot quieter.
Dixie patted June Vannover on the leg. “Now, you drink your tea and tell us what’s wrong.”
I couldn’t help but be impressed by the way Dixie managed to not only put June at ease but set her up to spill her guts.
June sipped slowly, but she eventually realized she would need to talk sooner or later. She gulped her tea and looked up. “I’m sorry for making a scene. It’s just . . . well, I’ve known Naomi Keller for years . . . I thought she was my friend.” She swallowed hard to hold back the emotion. “She and Dixon . . . they’re . . . she said she’s pregnant. We tried for years, but I just couldn’t . . . Dixon said it was my fault. I went to so many doctors, and they said there was nothing wrong with me, but Dixon said it was my fault. He wanted children, and I couldn’t . . . when he found out that she was carrying his child, he said it proved he had been right, and I was the problem.” She swallowed hard. “He told me he wanted a divorce.” The tears flowed down her cheeks. “He’s leaving me because I can’t give him children and she can. He’s leaving me for that . . . that . . .”
“Why, the dirty little homewrecker,” Dixie said.
Something in June Vannover’s eyes took me back to a year ago when I had learned my husband, Albert, was having an affair. I saw the same look of incredible disbelief in her that I’d worn for months when Albert dropped that bomb on me. Something in me immediately connected to June Vannover, and without thinking, I reached out and pulled her into a hug. Initially, she must have been as shocked by my action as I was. I held her stiff body and whispered. “I’ve been in your shoes.” Something in those words loosened the floodgates. She relaxed and gripped me with both arms and sobbed. We both sat there on the sofa in Dixie’s RV and sobbed until neither one of us had any tears left to cry. When we finished and broke apart, we looked at each other and laughed.
Dixie, who had also sobbed, stood up and passed us a box of tissues. “We all look like a hot mess.”
I looked from Dixie to June Vannover and saw eyeliner- and mascara-ringed eyes that were red and puffy from crying. Their previously perfect foundation was now tear-streaked.
I glanced around at Red, who was quietly standing near the door, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else than trapped in an RV with three crying women. His expression made me laugh even more. Realizing that some of his anxiety was due to the fact that he was concerned for me made me want to give him a break. “I think we can handle it from here, if you want to—”
“Yes. I’ll be outside.” He rushed out the door.
Dixie, June, and I glanced at each other and laughed again.
“That poor man,” Dixie said.
June pointed. “He’s not the . . .”
I scowled and shook my head. “Good God, NO! That’s Red . . . my boyfriend.” I suppressed a desire to giggle like a schoolgirl. I quickly shared my story of how my husband, Albert, had dumped me after twenty-five years of marriage.
“Weren’t you upset? How did you . . . how could you move on? I feel so betrayed, but . . I don’t want a divorce. I know it’s all that woman!” She huffed and pointed in the general direction of Naomi Keller’s RV. “She bewitched him. She told him lies, and she’s just using him. She doesn’t care about Dixon. I know she doesn’t. She doesn’t have a heart.”
“Initially, I felt the same way. I didn’t want a divorce . . . at first. I was comfortable. We’d been together for so long, I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know what it was like to be on my own.”
June stared at me as though I’d just unlocked the secrets to life. “How did you do it?”
I smiled. “One night, I met a woman on a train named Miss Florrie. She was a wise older woman. She looked at me and said, ‘Honey, whatever he did, it ain’t worth all them tears.’”
“How did she know it was a man?”
“I asked the same thing. She said, ‘Only a man can make a woman cry like you was crying. And baby, ain’t no man worth crying over. Tears are a precious commodity. You shouldn’t waste them on someone that done you wrong.’”
June gazed at me with wide eyes. “Was she a psychic?”
I thought for a moment. “Honestly, I think she was just a wise woman who had lived through a lot and understood . . . people.” I shared how Miss Florrie helped me realize that Albert and I hadn’t been happy for quite some time and that life was too short not to be happy. “She’s the one who led me to Chattanooga.”
“How?”
“She told me I needed to find my happy place.” I shrugged. “I realized I didn’t want to live in Indiana anymore. I wanted to be someplace warm. I wanted to be around my friend.” I reached out and squeezed Dixie’s hand. “And . . . I wanted a dog.”
June leaned forward. “So, you just left? You moved to Chattanooga?”
I nodded.
“What did your husband say? Didn’t he try to stop you?”
“Actually, he was killed, so he didn’t really say anything, but it wouldn’t have mattered.” I gazed at her. “I’m not saying that’s what you should do.”
“You can find your happy place,” Dixie said and smiled.
“But what will I do? What if being with Dixon is what makes me happy?”
“No one can answer that question for you,” I said. “You have to decide what makes you happy, but you can’t force someone to stay with you if that’s not what they want.”
She nodded, but I wasn’t sure she fully believed me.
We talked a bit longer, but eventually June Vannover said she was going to go home and talk to her husband and decide what she should do.
I wasn’t sure she was ready to find her happy place, but I didn’t know what else I could say or do. Eventually, I decided to leave it up to Providence and went in search of Red.
I didn’t have to go far to find him. When I did, I gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
“What did I do?”
“For being here. For being supportive. For helping me feel loved.”
“My pleasure.” He held me tight and kissed me thoroughly. “Actually, I have an important question I’ve been trying to ask.”
“What question?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the building. We glanced around to find the source of the disruption.
Monica Jill stumbled inside. She took two steps toward us. “She’s dead.” Then she stopped and crumbled to the floor in a dead faint.
“Not again,” Red mumbled as he pushed his way through the crowd.