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“They’ve picked number three. Now you said it was going to be twenty dollars a bag, but we both know that’s ridiculous. I told them I could get it for five dollars. I hope you’re okay with that.”
Harper stared at the picture, then scanned her notes. The bag was rose gold with a raffia handle. She’d applied delicate printed paper from France to the front of the bag, then edged it in tiny beads. After making by hand a flower done in shades of gold, she’d stenciled on the couple’s name and the date of their wedding, fifty years ago.
The price she’d quoted wasn’t just all the paper and trim, it was the time. Her heart sank. Cathy frequently tried to undercut Harper’s prices and most of the time Harper went along with it, but there was no way she could do the bag for that.
“The supplies cost more than five dollars,” Harper said, trying to sound firm. “It will take me thirty minutes to complete each one.”
“Can’t you work faster? My God, it’s a gift bag. Seriously, Harper, no one is going to pay twenty dollars for that.”
“Then they should pick one of the other ones.”
“They want the one they want.”
Harper’s stomach tightened. Irritation mingled with fear. She needed the work, but refused to take a loss. “The paper is imported...there are multiple layers. If you want something unique and handmade, that is the cost. I’m sorry, but my price is firm.”
“I’m sorry, too. I hate to lose you as a resource, but if you’re not going to work with me, then I don’t know if we can keep doing business together.”
The threat was like a kick to the stomach. Harper didn’t think she made any noise, but suddenly Jazz and Thor were both standing next to her, looking intent. Thor glanced toward the doorway and growled low in his throat.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stood up for her like that. The unexpected support brought tears to her eyes, which was completely insane. She swallowed and petted both of them before clearing her throat.
For a second, she wondered if she could somehow buy the supplies cheaper. Maybe on eBay. No, she told herself. There was no time to search them out.
“I’m sorry, Cathy. That’s my price.”
“Then goodbye.”
The other woman hung up. Harper did her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. She drew in a breath. “I might have just lost a client. No problem for you, Thor. Your owner has plenty of money.”
She wasn’t exactly sure how Lucas had so much cash to throw around. He drove a very expensive two-seater Mercedes convertible and she didn’t think detectives made that much. Still, she wasn’t going to ask too many questions. He paid his monthly bill the same day he received it—she knew because she paid his bills for him and why, yes, she did pay herself first. It was one of the very few perks of her work.
She returned her attention to the boutique website and continued to add pictures and text until she was happy with the layout. She saved everything, then sent a note and the link to the owner, asking for feedback.
“That’s done,” she told the dogs, who were still watching her. She swiveled in her chair to face them. “This would be a lot easier if you’d just tell me what you need.”
Before they could answer, her phone rang again.
“This is Harper.”
“It’s Cathy. You’re being ridiculous, so you know, but you do good work and I want to see if we can find a point of compromise. How about ten dollars a bag and I’ll need them in three days?”
Harper held in a groan. There were forty bags, at about thirty minutes each, plus she had to go to three different stores to buy the supplies. That was twenty hours of work plus all the running around, for a grand total of four hundred dollars.
She didn’t dare do the math to figure out the pitiful sum she would be making by the hour, but if she stayed up most of tonight and tomorrow night, she could meet the deadline.
“Harper?”
“Fine. Ten dollars a bag.”
“Great. I’ll let them know and I’ll be by Thursday morning to pick them up. You’re the best, Harper. Thanks.”
Cathy hung up before Harper could say anything. Harper returned her attention to the dogs.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she muttered. “I’m letting her take advantage of me. That I’m probably making two dollars an hour on this job. Well, it’s not this job, is it? It’s all the other work she brings me.”
Jazz’s steady gaze never wavered. Harper sighed.
“You’re right. I let her take advantage of me and that doesn’t make any sense. I should be firm. I should tell her my price and stick to it. I’m training her to always undercut me. I get that.”
She was sure the dog had more to say, but before they could continue the conversation, the doorbell rang. Thor and Jazz immediately rose. Jazz looked at Thor, who gave a low warning bark.
“Yes,” Harper said, pushing past them. “I heard it, too, but thanks for mentioning it.”
The dogs kept pace with her, but didn’t walk ahead of her or run. When they reached the front door, they both sat and waited.
“I really need to read that instruction book Becca got,” Harper told them as she opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you?”
A tall, gangly twentysomething guy stood on her porch. He was blond and wore board shorts, a T-shirt and athletic shoes. The T-shirt had a drawing of a cartoon version of him on it, along with the phrase Leader of the Pack.
“Harper Szymanski?” the guy asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Dwayne. I’m here to walk your dogs.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Thor and Jazz. It’s a daily service, which means Monday through Friday. I drive them to the beach and we walk along the boardwalk. It’ll take about ninety minutes.” Dwayne flashed her a smile. “Your husband paid for the top dog package. He must really like your dogs.”
Harper didn’t know what to say beyond, “He’s not my husband.” Because there was only one person who would have thought to arrange a dog-walking service. She would guess Lucas had done it for Thor, then added on Jazz. Damn the man for being thoughtful, good-looking and only interested in gorgeous bubbleheads in their twenties.
She held open the door for Dwayne to come inside. He saw Thor and Jazz and grinned.
“Oh, wow. Dobies. You guys are beautiful.” He held out his hand so they could sniff his fingers, then he squatted in front of them and said, “Shake.”
They both obliged.
“Lucas said you two were the bomb. He’s right. Super great manners.” He stood and looked at her. “I need their leashes.”
Harper got them from the bottom drawer in the table by the front door. She handed over a new roll of poop bags, hoping the dogs would do their thing somewhere other than her backyard.
“Thanks,” Dwayne said, snapping on the leashes. “We’ll be back in an hour and a half. Do you want me to run them?”
“That would be great.”
“Right? A tired dog is a happy dog. See ya.” He looked at the dogs. “Thor, Jazz, heel.”
The dogs stood and moved to his left side, Jazz taking the inside position. Dwayne walked them down the steps and out to his battered pickup. It was only after he’d driven away that Harper realized she probably should have checked with Lucas first. Just in case.
She quickly texted him, not sure when she would hear a response. Sometimes he was available, but a lot of the time, his phone was off. She supposed that came from being on the job catching bad guys or whatever it was he did in his day.
This time he answered her in a matter of seconds.
Are you concerned that someone cooked up an elaborate scheme to steal the dogs by pretending to be a dog walker?
Her lips twitched as she realized he kind of had a point.
I hadn’t thought of it that way. Thank you for including Jazz on the walk. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I know I do.
Happy to help. You can deal with your guilt by baking me something.
You know I will.
That I do.
She was still smiling as she walked into her pantry and studied the shelf that held her baking supplies. Not cookies, she thought. They were too ordinary. Tarts. She would bake Lucas chocolate tarts. But first she would go get the supplies she needed for the gift bags, then drop off the T-shirts she was shipping to her comedian client, Misty, then swing by the post office to mail Lucas’s bills. Then she would bake tarts and tonight, while the world slept, she would make gift bags and curse her inability to stand up for herself when she knew she absolutely should.
* * *
Becca sat on the front porch step, her arm around Jazz. The dog was leaning heavily on her, her body providing comforting warmth.
“Are you still confused?” Becca asked the dog. “It’s been a few days now and we have a routine. I’m sorry I have to be gone for school, but you have Thor, right? I could talk to Aunt Stacey about Bay. Maybe you three could have a playdate.”
Jazz stretched out on the porch and rested her head on her paws, but even as she shifted positions, she still stayed close. Becca kept her arm around the dog, figuring they both needed the comfort.
Jazz wasn’t the only one confused—Becca was starting to think she would never know everything going on, even in her own life. She missed Kaylee so much—more so now that Jordan had gone totally drama queen about Nathan. Kaylee would have called her on her crap and told her to stop talking about herself. Kaylee would have made a joke and smiled at Becca and asked about Jazz because that was what Kaylee had always done. She’d been a buffer against darker forces.
But there wasn’t anything between Becca and Jordan, so Becca spent her day hearing about how amazing Nathan was and how he loved Jordan so much. Theirs was the greatest love ever and boyfriend-less Becca couldn’t possibly understand. Worse, Jordan chided her about being bitter and angry, which wasn’t true. Okay, not the bitter part. She didn’t care that Jordan had Nathan, but she was starting to get pissed about her friend’s attitude.
“Bay would never act like that to you,” Becca told the dog. “You have better taste in friends.”
For a second, she wished she could talk to her mom and tell her what was happening. Her mom could be dorky, but sometimes she had really good advice. Even if she didn’t, she used to always make Becca feel better. They would bake something or do a craft project.
Not anymore, she thought grimly. Even if she was willing to do something so childish, her mom wasn’t available. She was always too busy with her VA business.
Becca leaned over and kissed the top of Jazz’s head, then straightened. She was about to pull out her phone and check the time when it buzzed with a text. She looked at the screen, then caught her breath when she read the message.
I’m tied up at work, kiddo. Sorry. Let’s reschedule for some time next week.
Tears burned in her eyes. Becca blinked them away, telling herself to get over it. She knew she couldn’t depend on her dad and she was stupid if she thought he would ever change. He always had something else he had to be doing. As for getting tied up at work—that was a complete lie. He was a podiatrist, which meant scheduled appointments. He wasn’t a real doctor who had actual emergencies.
She shoved her phone back in her pocket and wiped her cheeks, just in case. Before she could scramble to her feet and escape to her room, Lucas pulled up and parked in front of her house.
He walked up the path and sat next to Jazz on the stairs, then patted the dog and smiled at her.
“Hey, kid.”
His words were way too close to what her dad called her. “I have a name,” she snapped.
“Yes, you do.” She waited for him to call her on her attitude, but instead he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. You’re here early.”
“I was in court for most of the day. It’s boring, but it’s a shorter day. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I said nothing was wrong.”
“You also lied. What is it?”
She stared at the top of Jazz’s head. “It’s just...” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “My dad blew me off again. I need fifty supervised hours to get my license. Mom’s too busy and my dad swore he would help, but he never shows up.” She rolled her eyes. “He said he was stuck at work. With what? An ingrown toenail? He doesn’t care about me anymore. I don’t think he ever did. He just walked out like I didn’t matter and now he won’t teach me to drive.”
It was so much more than she’d wanted to say, but there was no way to call back the words. She folded her arms across her chest and did her best to hold in the pain.
“Interesting,” Lucas said casually. “It’s a drag about your dad, but there’s time. It’s not like you need your license right away.”
She rocked forward and dropped her gaze to her Keds. “Yeah, well, Great-Aunt Cheryl didn’t just leave me the dogs. There’s a car.” She glanced at him and started talking quickly. “It’s a really good car. Ramon, her boyfriend, said it was in great condition and they’d always taken care of it. It’s safe and has air bags, and it’s not like my dad’s going to buy me a car and Mom sure can’t afford it.”
She sucked in a breath. “I don’t think Dad remembered to tell Mom because he was sick and she hasn’t said anything. The car is paid for. I know there’s going to be insurance and gas and stuff and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that, but right now I need my license.”
Lucas nodded his head. “That’s a lot.”
“I know, right?”
He stood and called to Jazz, sent the dog in the house, then looked at Becca. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To practice your driving.”
“My mom’s not here.”
“I’m not taking you on the freeway, kid, I’m taking you to an empty parking lot to see what you know how to do and how we get along. If it goes well, I’ll talk to your mom when we get back.”
She stared at him. “Then what am I going to...” She spun to face the sleek, white Mercedes convertible. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew that one cost a lot. Maybe as much as their house.
“No way.”
He shrugged. “It’s insured. You’ll be fine. Do you have your temporary license?”
“Let me get it.”
She raced inside and dug her wristlet out of her backpack, then hurried back outside. Lucas stood by his car, the driver’s door open.
“The car’s not going to drive itself,” he called.
Excitement and hope fluttered in her stomach. If Lucas would really help her get her hours, then she wouldn’t have to depend on her dad or bug her mom. She vowed to do the best she could on their mini lesson so he would want to teach her more.
She joined him and got in the driver’s side. He sat next to her and explained how to set the seat and the mirrors.
“The car sits really low to the ground,” he told her. “It’s going to feel different than your mom’s SUV or your dad’s sedan. Also, it has a more powerful engine, so be careful when you hit the gas.”
She nodded, then wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans.
