The Art of Wag Page 13

  Tracy’s back stiffened and she mentally cautioned herself not to do something dumb. “Um, well, I have to work tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t.” No matter how cute he may be. “I live right down the street. We can walk down there and then say good night. I really do have to get up early. The vet clinic opens at eight and I have to get there at seven thirty to set up.”

  Todd nodded. “All right. Maybe I can see you again, though.”

  “Sure, that would be great. It’s been fun catching up.”

  In front of her mom’s store, at the doorway leading up to her apartment, Tracy stopped. “This is me.”

  “You live in your mother’s gift store?”

  “Actually, upstairs above it. There’s an apartment.”

  Todd looked surprised. And not in an “I’m impressed” way. More like a “you’re a loser” way. Tracy took one of his hands in hers. “Thank you for dinner. I had a great time.”

  Todd suddenly let go of her hand, reached out, and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him. “Would you like me to come upstairs?”

  Tracy shifted in his arms. Sure, she hadn’t had a date in long time, but this felt way too uncomfortable. “Maybe another time. My place is kind of a mess.” That was an understatement. He bent down and kissed her, triggering an unwelcome flashback to eighth grade. Maybe she was doing something wrong. She tried to readjust her head. What was he doing? It felt like she was kissing a trout. Was she really this out of practice? How pathetic.

  He released his hold on her and a corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ll give you a call.”

  “Okay. Thanks again for dinner. I had a great time.”

  Tracy turned, slowly unlocked the door to the stairway up to her apartment, and watched as he strolled away. The traffic light was off for the day and flashing, which cast an eerie red glow on the blustery street. He certainly was handsome and obviously successful at whatever he did for the oil company. Maybe he really would call tomorrow. Or maybe he’d already written her off as a small-town loser.

  As Tracy walked into her apartment, the strident yapping of her angry dachshund surrounded her. “Hi Roxy. I know I interrupted your evening routine, but I actually had a date.” Roxy paused, seeming to contemplate this news for a moment, but then resumed her angry diatribe.

  Tracy waved her hands at the dog. “Quiet, Roxy! Let me check my messages, then we can go for a walk. You’re not gonna like it, though. It’s getting cold out there.”

  Tracy pressed the button on her answering machine and heard Rob’s deep voice tell her that he hadn’t made it to Alpine Grove today, but would be there tomorrow afternoon. She looked down at Roxy. “I’m sure glad he didn’t show today. I forgot about it when the whole prospect of actually going out with a hot guy came up.” She grabbed the leash, bent down, and clipped it on the dog. “Okay little dog, let’s go.”

  Roxy eagerly rushed to the door and Tracy picked her up for the journey down the stairs. They exited the stairwell and Tracy put the dog down on the sidewalk. A big gust of wind whipped at the small dog’s fur and Roxy looked up at Tracy in dismay.

  Tracy moved forward, dragging the dog behind her. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” Roxy ran to a patch of grass, relieved herself, and turned back toward the gift store. Tracy followed the dog back to the doorway to the stairs. “You sure get a lot more efficient when the weather turns.”

  The next day at the vet clinic was mercifully free of emergencies. Tracy was relieved to finally get the “easy” day that was supposed to have happened on Monday. At the end of the day, Tracy was doing the final accounting and looked up when Rob walked through the door. She pointed at his head. “Hey, you got a haircut.” The shorter hair lowered the Scooby-Doo factor somewhat. Shaggy’s hairstyle really wasn’t a good look for anybody. Rob’s hair was still sort of all over the place, but at least now there was less of it.

  He leaned on the desk. “I can take a hint. And I never want to subject my hair to that nasty junk you put in it ever again.”

  “You’re not going to forgive me for that, are you?”

  “I’ll get over it. Are you ready to leave? We have a lot of work to do. Do you have any sketches I can look at yet?”

  Tracy shook her head. The idea hadn’t even occurred to her. “I was busy. There was an urgent laundry situation and then an emergency here yesterday, so I had to work late. Are you staying at the H12?”

  He rested his elbows on the counter. “Yes. It’s really kind of a dump, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t say it was nice. I said it was convenient. There’s a difference.”

  “That’s true.” He turned and waved toward the greater Alpine Grove area. “It’s great that I can walk everywhere. I did some window shopping on my walk down here to the clinic. It was fun. And everyone is so friendly, which is such a change from LA. In the city, everyone walks around like they’re wearing blinders. Here people smile and talk to you. I met a lawyer standing outside his office and we had a nice chat.”

  “Oh, that was Larry Lowell. He likes to get away from his desk and stand around watching the world go by. But hey, don’t knock anonymity. Here, it can take forever to get through the line at the grocery store. And then you’ll meet someone you know in the parking lot. But if you really want to get to know people, go to the post office. That’s where the real action is.”

  Rob laughed. “You seem to have this place figured out. I should get you to write the copy for the web site too.”

  “I’m not much of a writer, but I have lived here for a long time.” She paused. “Actually, I do know a writer who lives here, if you need one.”

  “I’m starting to think you know everybody.”

  Tracy put her notebook away and closed the drawer. “Sometimes it feels like it. I have some stuff to finish up here and then I need to walk my dog. Can I meet you in about an hour?”

  “That sounds great. I’m in Room 2 at the H12. I think I’ll stop by the gift store on my way back. Isn’t that the store your mom owns?”

  “Yup. Say ‘hi’ to Bea for me.”

  After tending to Roxy, Tracy walked up to the H12 and found Rob’s room. The H12 was one of those motels that never seemed to change. It had looked pretty much the same for as long as Tracy could remember. Periodically, it would sport a new paint job and the owners would remodel the rooms somewhat, but the basic configuration remained. So no matter what cosmetic changes were made to it, the place always had a somewhat retro fifties motor-lodge feel to it.

  Tracy knocked and strolled into the room when Rob opened the door. “Wow, I haven’t been here in a long time. This brings back memories.”

  “What? Prom night?”

  Tracy put her hands on her hips in mock indignation. “I beg your pardon. I was not that kind of girl.” Okay maybe she was, but not at the H12. Yuck. “It looks like you’ve got yourself a serious nerd set up going. I can’t believe you hauled all this computer stuff up here.”

  Rob surveyed the room, which was outfitted with a folding table loaded down with a computer, a printer, and a large monitor. “I’m used to dragging around computer boxes. That’s your workstation. I have a laptop over here.” He pointed to a small computer on the desk.

  “You have a laptop? Those things cost a fortune.”

  “Actually, it’s the one I use for work. Don’t tell. But I’m just going to be calculating costs and writing up the quote. You get to use my good computer that has Photoshop on it.”

  A knot formed in Tracy’s stomach. “Maybe we should go get something to eat. There’s a little cafe right around the corner.”

  Rob’s brows pulled together. “We really need to get started on this. We’ve only got a few days to figure out what this whole huge site is going to look like. I set up the meeting for Sunday, since it’s your day off. And I already lost a day getting here, because I had to do an emergency network installation yesterday.”

  “There are networking emergencies?”

  “Yes. The company
couldn’t communicate with the home office, so they were freaking out. When people lose money, it’s an emergency. The boss wouldn’t let me go until I fixed it.”

  “Yeah, like I said, we had an emergency at the vet clinic too, if that makes you feel better.”

  Rob looked horrified. “No, it doesn’t. Was an animal hurt? What happened?”

  “A dog had a run-in with a large tree branch. This type of thing happens a lot in hunting season.”

  “Is the dog okay? That sounds bad.”

  Tracy smiled at his expression. “Max is going to be fine. But he has to wear an E-collar, so now he’s a conehead. That’s probably making him cranky.”

  “I think your emergency trumps mine. Still, all this means that we’re behind schedule. We need to get to work.”

  Tracy glanced over at the computer. “It can wait until after we eat, right? I’m starving.”

  “I suppose so. But then we really need to get started.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Rob insisted that they get their meals from the cafe to go, so they could work. Tracy capitulated unwillingly and carried her little white bag of food back to the motel. After they got inside, she put down the bag, kicked off her shoes, and flopped down on her stomach on one of the beds. She waved her stockinged feet back and forth. “My feet are killing me. All that time standing on the hard floor at the clinic wears me out.”

  Rob turned on the computer and monitor on the table. “Maybe you should get some new shoes.”

  “I have some shoe inserts, but they’re kind of worn out.” She rolled over on her back with her feet hanging off the end of the bed. “I’m tired.”

  Rob grabbed her bag of food from the table and handed it to her. “Eat something. You’ll feel better. Then we can get to work.”

  Tracy took the bag from him and sat up cross-legged. “Okay. Thanks for feeding me again.” She took a huge bite from her sandwich and chewed ravenously.

  Rob sat down at the desk and flipped the switch on the laptop. “You have to be one of the hungriest women I have ever met. Don’t you ever eat?”

  “It’s hard to get a free moment at the clinic. I buy frozen food when it goes on sale. When I get a chance, I pop one into the microwave. A lot of times it’s when Dr. C is busy doing surgery and I can monitor the anesthesia machine while I eat.”

  Rob frowned. “You eat while she’s cutting up dogs and cats?”

  “By then I’m usually starving. If I don’t eat, I get a headache.”

  With a look of distaste, Rob took a bite of his sandwich and put it down. He walked over to the table with the large computer and monitor, bent over the keyboard, and poked at some keys. “This is all ready to go.”

  Tracy flopped back down on her back. “I think Jon and Annabelle finally got new beds in here. This one is actually comfortable. I’m just going to digest for a minute.” She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

  Rob said sharply, “What are you doing?”

  Tracy opened her eyes. “I told you, I’m resting. What’s your problem?”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Rob walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “We need to get started. If you’re going to back out on me, now would be a really good time to let me know. Because I’ve got to make a whole lot of calls, if that’s what’s going to happen.”

  Tracy sat up. “No. I’m just waiting for creative inspiration.”

  “You’d be a lot more prepared for that blast of inspiration if you actually sat at the computer. Why are you avoiding it?”

  “I’m not!” Tracy frowned and snatched her bag of food. She bounced off the bed and walked over to the computer. “See—this is me going and sitting down. Fine. Don’t be such a taskmaster. I’m getting there. Can’t a woman relax a little after a long day?”

  Rob sat down at the desk, grabbed his sandwich, took a bite, and stared at the laptop screen. He gathered some printouts and got up to hand them to her. “Here are the pages you need to do designs for, with the dimensions. You remember how to set up the file in Photoshop, right?”

  “Yes.” Not really. Tracy snatched the papers from his hand. “No problem.” She turned to the screen and clicked the software icon. A blank white screen appeared in front of her. “Okay, then. Look, it’s Alpine Grove in a blizzard!”

  Rob turned in his chair. “What?”

  “I’m done. We’re doing the winter white-out edition!”

  “That’s not funny.” Rob turned back to his screen.

  “You really have no sense of humor at all, do you?”

  He scowled at the laptop. “My sense of humor will return after I get some work done. I have to figure out how I’m going to do this quote. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

  “Fine.” Tracy clicked and clicked, looking for the elusive screen that would let her change the size of the page. It had to be here somewhere. She took another bite of sandwich and glared at the monitor. Stupid computer. It was hiding it. She hunched over the desk. This was like a scavenger hunt, except programmers were doing the hiding and it wasn’t fun.

  At last she found the right place and typed in the correct page dimensions. After clicking the OK button, she threw up her arms and leaped up out of her chair. “Yay me!”

  Rob turned and looked at her. “Everything okay?”

  “My snowstorm is the right size now!” At his dour expression, she sat down again. “Never mind. Working.”

  “Maybe you should save the file.” He pointed at the computer. “By the way, I scanned a bunch of your photographs for you to start with. They’re in the folder named photos.”

  “How creative.” She smirked. “You could have called it Fabulous Bygone Days in Small-Town America.”

  “Folder names aren’t supposed to be creative. You name them something obvious so you can find them again.”

  “Gee, you’re just a thrill a minute. Wanna go out and get some dessert? We could stop by the Italian place and grab something decadent. The chef, Lou, makes a tiramisu to die for.”

  “Maybe after you get something on that screen beyond a snowstorm.” He turned in the chair and leaned his arms on the chair back. “I know you can do it.”

  Tracy sighed. She wasn’t so sure. “Okay. But only because I want tiramisu.”

  Rob ignored her, turned back to the computer, and began pounding the keys on his little laptop keyboard with what some might have regarded as excessive force.

  An hour later, Tracy had created the beginnings of a page. She saved the file and leaned back in the chair. It was horrible. She hated it. Why was she even trying? She didn’t know what she was doing with this stuff. Looking at this page, people would certainly not be rushing to their phone to book a vacation in lovely Alpine Grove. They’d be running fast in the other direction. And she’d be leading the way. Yuck. She shut the program, stood up, and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. “I need to go tend to my dog before she stages another revolt in my kitchen.”

  Rob reluctantly turned his focus away from the screen and hurriedly pressed some keys. “Already? We just got started.”

  “I’ve had enough for one night. And I have to get up early.”

  He wagged his index finger at her. “You just want dessert again, don’t you?”

  “No. I’m going home.”

  “Do you want me to walk you down to your place?”

  “This is Alpine Grove. I think I can make my way through the vast crowds of late-night revelers all by myself.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Fine.” Tracy gathered up her things and left the room. This was going to be a very long week.

  The next day, after an exhausting amount of work at the clinic and an afternoon that included many complicated and heart-rending pet-related issues, Tracy knocked on the door of Rob’s room at the H12. She was dreading opening the file she had worked on the day before. How to make a bad day worse: look at your crummy des
ign and visualize yet another professional failure. Her father was right. Nobody ever made any money as an artist. The words starving and artist went together for a reason.

  Rob opened the door and smiled in welcome. “Hi there! Ready to make more art?”

  Tracy wandered into the room and sat on the bed. “I guess. I’m tired.” She flopped backward and splayed her arms out onto the bed. “Sometimes people are horrible. And I hate that animals get sick.”

  Rob leaned over the bed and peered down at her. “Bad day?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know how Dr. C can make these life-or-death decisions every day. Today there was a tiny kitten that this guy was threatening to drown in a river if we didn’t take it in.” She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to adopt a tiny cat, would you?” She flopped back on the bed. “I mean, jeez, we’re a vet clinic, not an animal shelter. What is wrong with people? Then later we had to tell this guy his dog was sick. Really sick. I hate that. I mean the dog is old, and the owner knows his dog is sick...the owners—they always know when something’s really wrong. But it’s just...so...hard.” She covered her eyes with her arm. Why was she telling Rob all of this? What was wrong with her? Couldn’t she ever just shut up?

  A tear slipped down her cheek and fell onto the mattress. She wiped it away hurriedly and looked over at him. He had a distressed look on his face, as if he wanted to run away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t your problem. I love animals, but sometimes I hate having a job that can make me cry. Usually I go home and hug Roxy, eat a lot of ice cream, and zone out on TV reruns. I did hug Roxy before I came here, anyway. I also told her she needs to never get sick and live to be the oldest doxie in recorded history.”

  Rob took a deep breath, removed his glasses, and put them on the nightstand. He rubbed his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed. Taking one of her hands in his, he said, “I’m so sorry. That does sound like a really bad day. I wish we had more time to work on this, so you could go veg out.”

  Tracy rolled over on her side. She considered the concerned look on his face. He was being so nice, even though he probably thought she was a flaky basket case. “Have I mentioned that I hate deadlines?”