Chapter Fifteen
And so here she was, finishing up breakfast in the kitchen, having decided nothing. How could she possibly endure that sort of poisonous atmosphere in the house? Was she being watched right now? And would she end up with a good dose of hemlock in her serving of soup?
Ben, having put aside his morning paper, was seriously discussing the condition of the puppy with his fascinated daughter. “And Dr. Morgan called this morning, and said we could pick him up any time.”
“And can I go, Daddy, and can I see him and hold him?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart. But you’ll have to be very careful of him. He’ll need a lot of care for a while.”
“Care you can only provide in the house, isn’t that right, Ben?” Caroline couldn’t resist putting in her two cents’ worth.
“It isn’t quite—”
“In the house?” The child’s eyes widened. “You mean in my bedroom>”
“I don’t see why not.” Caroline seemed determined to poke the tiger in the cage, and was rewarded by a small gleam from the tiger’s blue eyes. “You could certainly keep watch over him better from there, couldn’t you?”
“Well, now, wait just a minute—”
“We’ll buy him a bed,” she promised recklessly, “and some toys. He’s probably never had toys before. And we’ll give him whatever medicine he needs, and—”
“The proper place for a dog is outside,” Mrs. Wyeth interrupted. She had paused, in the act of removing plates, to interject her opinion whether it was wanted or no. Stolid. Implacable. “All them germs and fleas. Ain’t never had no dog inside the house before, and you ain’t about to start now, Missy.”
“Ah, but you have no control over what goes on in this house, do you, Mrs. Wyeth?” Caroline’s voice, silky-smooth, caught up the challenge and threw it right back at her. “I think I am the final authority on whether a dog stays or goes. Isn’t that true, Ben?”
Puzzled by the byplay, which up till now hadn’t been a concern, the master put down his half-eaten slice of toast and picked up his coffee cup. “Caroline, do you really think—”
“Yes, I really do.” Her aquamarine eyes flashed as brilliantly as the gems in question, and two bright spots of color high on her cheekbones melded in with the smattering of freckles.
Not wanting to get involved in women’s concerns, he shrugged. “Sure. I reckon she can have the dog in her room for a while. We’ll see how it goes.”
“And the authority, Ben?”
“Well, yeah. You are the final authority, no question about that.”
“Thank you. And, thank you, Mrs. Wyeth, for being so understanding.”
Understanding, in a pig’s eyes. The lady turned away, glowering, resentful, and indignant. Yep. Definitely a dose of hemlock.
It was a small battle, as skirmishes go, but she had won it. However, she foresaw a number of similar battles in future, depending on how much more insubordination the cook was prepared to give her, so she’d better be armed and dangerous. Or locked and loaded. Or whatever current war-like euphemism was being used.
By ten o’clock Ben had cleared away any pressing details at his desk and conferred with Marilou as to plans for the day.
“So you want me to put off the meeting with Transflux?”
“No, let ’em go ahead and hold it. It’s nothing so important that I have to be there. Oh, but I do want you to send a formal letter to Dovetail, Inc., to accept…”
The perky blonde admin had already heard the story from Tom of Lundigan’s attack on the dog, and Caroline’s attack on Lundigan, and Tom’s attack on Lundigan, and his subsequent hauling away by a sympathetic sheriff. She had apologized several times for her own lack of a background check.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said abjectly. “Just fell through the cracks, I reckon. I started to look into what he’d been doin’ for the last ten years, things seemed okay, and then blam!”
“Blam,” repeated Ben. Sitting behind the forbidding expanse of his desk, he was not quite so cavalier. “Blam.”
“Yeah. I’m real sorry, Ben. It won’t happen again.”
Caroline, suspecting that the secretary was not often called on the carpet, had slunk away from the office. Marilou didn’t need a witness to her moment of humiliation.
“I’m sure it won’t. Because there could’ve been some very serious consequences.”
At last, work finished for the while, they were ready to go retrieve the little foundling that had caused such an uproar.
“Come on, Carrie, hurry up,” Sophie urged from inside the truck’s cab. “Time’s a-wastin’!”
Caroline had been standing at the front door, ready to allow some father-daughter time, ready to wave a cheerful goodbye. “Oh, am I supposed to be going?”
“You’re the one responsible for this whole mess,” said Ben. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Albeit slowly and carefully. He wouldn’t admit it—big tough Texan and all—but some residual tenderness had resulted from his foray into ass-kicking, and he had decided it might be prudent to coddle those bruised knuckles and swollen hands for a bit. “Come on, time’s a-wastin’!”
The twenty-mile drive was accomplished more decorously today—fifteen minutes, instead of ten. Sophie kept up such a round of chatter that no other conversational gambit was required, other than, “Yes, that’s right.” or “I don’t think so.”
Sophie was excited. Unlike most children, who wore their hearts on their sleeves, she had kept her feelings locked away inside for too long a time. Now, thanks to Caroline’s gentle persistence and kindly guidance, the girl was beginning to blossom forth. As much as the sunflowers on her shorts.
“Is this gonna be your own dog, Sophie?” Dr. Morgan asked with a twinkle when they trooped into his examining room.
“Uh-huh. Carrie says so. And Daddy, too.”
“Well, good, honey. Okay, here he is. You know you gotta be careful, right?”
The dog was a sorry sight. It was anybody’s guess what breed he might be, from pointer to lab to some sort of hound. Once his body had filled out, and he had lost that scrawny look, he would be a handsome animal. But for right now, his right paw was bandaged, and one ear dangled, and every rib of his skinny, eight-pound carcass showed
Still, sedated and hurt thought he was, the puppy managed to thump his tail a few times, and he looked up with soft soulful eyes that begged only for kindness.
“Oh, good boy,” crooned Sophie, crowding close to the table upon which the animal lay. “Good little boy.” Bending close to gently pet him, she was sloshed by a wet tongue that immediately set off a round of giggles.
“How is it you’ve never managed to get this child a dog before?” murmured Caroline, sotto voce.
Ben shrugged. “Dunno. Guess it just never occurred to me.”
“Well, Missy, looks like you’ve made a new friend there,” said Dr. Morgan, beaming. He was as proud as if the arrangement were all his, and he had instigated this first date. “You got a name for this boy yet?”
“Uh-huh.” Sophie looked up, eyes shining. “I’m gonna call him Jasper.”
“Jasper. Well, that’s a fine name. Okay, then, let me just give your pop some instructions as to his care, and we’ll let you take Jasper home.”
And so Jasper went home, with a supply of special dog food to build his wasted body and a cache of toys to be introduced at intervals.
Seated between her father and stepmother, Sophie cradled him and spoiled him. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you no more!” she pledged to the unknowing puppy.
Caroline’s startled glance has flown to Ben’s. How had she known? Or was that just a lucky guess?
The first order of business was to let Jasper loose, when they’d arrived home, so that he could explore and find a favorite spot on the front lawn to—well, do his business.
“Gonna be brown spots everywhere,” said Ben gloomily. He had climbed down from the driver’s seat, shut the door, and stood watching while Jasper made himself at home.
“No doubt.” Caroline was unperturbed. It wasn’t her greenery being decimated. “Don’t worry, Ben,” she took pity on him. “We’ll get Jasper into the back yard from here on. The brown spots won’t be so noticeable there.” And she giggled.
He stared at her. “You think it’s funny?”
“Well, yeah…I kinda do. It is kinda funny.”
“The hell you say!”
Suddenly, before she realized what mischief he was pulling, Ben had picked her up and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of old clothes. Except that this sack was kicking and screaming, pounding on his shoulders, and demanding to be put down. He took a few minutes to dance around with her, defying her demands, taunting her with gibes and jeers, until her cries of outrage turned to helpless laughter.
“You really wanna mess with me? Huh? Really?” By then he was laughing, too.
Finally, he righted her, sliding her slowly down until they were standing evenly and tightly locked together, breast to breast, loin to loin, thigh to thigh. Her arms were flung around his neck; his battered hands were clamped around her buttocks, grinding her hard against his erection.
“There,” he managed huskily. “I reckon that’ll—learn you—not to—go round causin’ problems for—your betters…”
Sophie was looking on with interest and a trace of distaste. “Come on, Jasper,” she said, gathering up the puppy and starting for the front door. “I think the grownups are gonna start actin’ silly, and I think you’re too young to watch.”