Charlie unpacked the bag, placing tray after tray of sushi on the table in front of them. “You said you were hungry!” he said, as if acknowledging the excess of his purchase. Cora nodded and worried about how best to fake her enthusiasm for slimy raw fish and sticky rice. She hoped her hunger would short-circuit her taste buds.
“Where do you want to start? We have Hokkigai, Akagai, Toro nigiri, Gunkan maki, Chuka Idako, and some rainbow rolls.”
Cora looked at the horrifying options before her. She saw what looked like two different types of caviar wrapped in black, tiny curled-up bits of octopus, pink slabs of uncooked fish atop rice beds, and something that looked like a red-tipped claw of meat wearing a black belt. She seized on the only name that made sense to her. “How about a rainbow roll?”
“Ah, you’re starting slow. I like that! Want some wine to wash it down?”
Was wine a transition to date territory?
“Well, since we’re done with the lesson, sure. But normally I don’t drink on the job.”
“I assure you, you’re off the clock now. Take a look at your student.” Cora leaned forward to get a glimpse of Oliver, who was on his side and half asleep in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway. A mentally exhausted dog: her parting gift to every client.
As Charlie searched the cabinet for glasses, Cora sniffed at one of the rainbow rolls. Peeling back the slab of salmon and biting into the edge, the rice tasted fine. She took another bite and got a mouthful of fish and had to stifle her gag reflex. How was she going to fake her way through the meal?
Charlie returned to the table with oversize red wineglasses. “This oughta do the trick,” he said as he filled them to the brims. He sat down next to her and looked at her with his typical intensity. “So tell me all about Cora Bellamy. How did you get into dog training?” He took a big swig of his wine and looked into her eyes.
Cora wasn’t used to answering questions. She was a steadfast ear for her clients, part confidante, part therapist, but always on the listening end of the conversation. The rare occasions when a client actually asked her a personal question, whether about her weekend plans or what book she was reading, usually ended up with her sputtering an abbreviated reply and gently steering the conversation away from herself. This felt different. She was off duty, and the two of them were hanging out as people, not as helper and helpee.
“I’ll give you the highlights: college to corporate America just like Mom and Dad wanted, even though it wasn’t what I wanted, good job, great pay, much confusion. Cue quarter-life crisis, quit job, became a dog trainer, and here I am.” She shrugged.
“Okay, that was the lamest summary ever. Start over. What exactly did you do?”
“Junior project manager in government contracts reporting for duty, sir.” She saluted him.
“Hm. That doesn’t feel like a fit to me.”
“It wasn’t. I did it for as long as I could, until I had a decent nest egg, so I wouldn’t have to rely on the bank of Mom and Dad, then I said good-bye high heels, hello sneakers.” She waggled her foot at him to prove her point.
“I think I would’ve enjoyed seeing the high-heel version of you. But the sneaker version is pretty phenomenal, too.” He shoved an octopus roll in his mouth and gazed at her.
Don’t respond, change the subject, break off eye contact. She repeated it to herself like a mantra, hoping it might give her the strength to resist the X-rated trailer playing in her head.
“I prefer sneakers myself. Comfort wins, you know.”
“Speaking of comfort, should we move to the family room? These chairs aren’t made for long conversations.”
“No, I’m fine!” Cora squeaked out, as an image of a shirtless Charlie draped across her on the couch popped into her head.Do not move any closer to him. Do not touch him.
Charlie nodded but didn’t hide a furrow. “So why dog training, of all professions?” The creased brow was gone and he was back to staring at her like he was trying to memorize her face.
“Honestly, deep down I’ve always known this is where I’d end up, despite the corporate detour. Ever since I was little, I’ve always had this drive to ...” Cora stopped herself.
“What? Tell me.” Charlie sounded like a therapist, and Cora realized that they had officially switched roles.
She was tempted to tell him everything. The mood was intimate and confessional, and Cora knew that Charlie in particular would be sympathetic to what had happened all those years ago. She opened her mouth to tell him about Cooper but swerved at the last minute. “My dog Fritz finally pushed me to take the leap, actually. I saw firsthand how positive training transformed him from out-of-control shelter dog to polite ambassador. I wanted to help people do the same with their own dogs, to find that magic that transforms relationships. So here I am. My life is all about animals. Same with you, but on a much bigger and cooler level, right?” She desperately needed to get his focus off of her, to deflect into more comfortable territory.
He shook his head. “Not cooler. Different. But yeah, I do feel good about what I do. So what’s the best part of your job?”
He was out-gaming her again, circling the conversation back to her. “Ummm. I like changing relationships. I like teaching people how to speak dog and teaching dogs how to speak people.”
“You’re so good at it, Cora.” She felt a ripple every time he said her name. She knew he probably picked it up in some seminar about winning over business contacts, but it worked on her.
“Thanks. You guys make it easy.”
Charlie grinned at her. “Are we your favorites? C’mon. Admit it. Oliver and I are your all-time favorites.” He leaned over and poked at her playfully, like a grade school boy with a crush.
“You guys are up there, I’ll admit it. But I have a thing for...”
