The man slowed and pulled off his headphones, an angry expression on his face. “What did you say about my dogs?”
Cora sensed the misunderstanding before Joe did. “We just want to pet your handsome dogs. Is that okay?”
The man relaxed. “Oh, sure.”
The muscular steel-gray pit bull and tiny Chihuahua wagged their tails and marched in place, eager for some attention. “Nobody loves dogs more than me. ’Cept maybe her.” Joe hooked his finger toward Cora. “Her boy Fritz looks like this big guy.” Joe knelt between them and placed a hand on each, and the pit bull rolled onto his back on the sidewalk so Joe could scratch his belly.
“Lookit my big tough guy,” the man said ruefully. “You a killer, huh? Pepito is tougher than you, Beefy.”
Cora laughed. “They’re quite a duo. Do they like each other?”
“Like?” The man shook his head. “These two are in love. Brothers from different mothers. They do everything together.”
Cora thought of Fritz home alone and felt a pang.
“Allrighty, boys. Let’s roll,” the man said to his dogs.
“Thank you!” Joe called after the trio as they walked away. He stood up and brushed off his knees. “Bye, girl, see you next time.”
Cora had told Joe her name dozens of times but he never remembered it. “Bye, Joe, see you soon.”
Cora arrived home to find Fritz curled up on the floor near the door. He had three beds scattered throughout the small apartment, but he slept in them only when she was home. Otherwise he took up the uncomfortable post near the door until Cora came back.
He woke immediately as she came in but took his time stretching into his own Downward Dog before he walked over to greet Cora. At eight years old, Fritz was starting to slow down, and his mellowed greetings were a depressing reminder that her best friend wasn’t going to live forever.
Cora had adopted Fritz from the Humane Rescue Alliance when he was a rangy teenager, her first dog as a grown-up. She’d wanted to rename him Cooper to honor the dog that had inspired her canine career, but she worried that she’d be reminded of that dog’s sad life every time she said his name. There were other ways to remember Cooper. To make sure that no other dogs ended up like him.
Fritz had been underweight from his time on the streets, and his brindle-and-white coat was dull and thin. He had a jaunty patch over his right eye that made him look a little like Petey fromOur Gang. He’d been at the shelter for a month, and the environment was clearly taking a toll. When people came near his pen he responded by joyfully leaping up and down with an off-putting fervor. The card attached to the front of his pen described him as a stray with a “big personality,” shelter code for “out of control.” The combination of his square, pit bull face, athletic frame, and wild behavior all but guaranteed him a long stay at the Alliance. Cora fell in love the moment she saw him.
Core knelt by the door in front of Fritz and gentled him closer so that they were face-to-face. She cupped her hands behind his ears and leaned her forehead against his. They meditated together in silence for a few moments, each saying their own little prayer of thanksgiving for the other.
“Mon amour, mon amour,” she sang to him under her breath. “Tu es parfait. There’s no way I’m lonesome tonight because I’ve got you. Let’s walk, baby dog.”
FIVE
Cora detoured to Politics & Prose after she finished with her rainy Saturday clients, soaked shoes and growling belly temporarily ignored. Time to stop thinking about thinking about the audition e-mail and actually do something about it. She wasn’t ready to make any bold moves yet, but if she could find a book that would convince her that auditioning was easy and fun, and that anyone could do it, thenmaybeshe could take the next step. She felt like she needed a sign.
She navigated the shop’s narrow aisles, not sure what she was looking for. She passed an Ershovich endcap featuring his best seller and felt like his smug face was mocking her for even thinking about auditioning. How could she go head-to-head with a powerhouse like Ershovich?
But the details in the e-mail attachment that Wade had forwarded intrigued her. The program was going to feature dog-friendly techniques only and use spy camera footage to show what goes on in the typical household after the trainer leaves for the day. Cora often wished she could see what her clients were doing after she headed out at the end of a session. She could tell when people skipped their homework or practiced an exercise the wrong way for an entire week until she came back and worked on it with them. She could envision the spy cam footage of people on the show making typical mistakes, and a funny sports guy voice-over doing a play-by-play of what they should be doing instead, complete with corrective red ink on the screen.This sounds different,Cora thought when she reread the e-mail.This isn’t a heavy-handed dictator forcing dogs into submission while the owners stand by applauding. It’s a collaboration between the pet parents and the trainer, which is more realistic. Maybe I could be the person they need.
The store was packed with a mix of older hippies browsing the day away, handsome yuppies with their unruly children, and Georgetown students looking to escape the library. Cora kept her eyes downcast as she passed people. By the end of a four-client day, she was wrung out and tired of using her observational skills. She wanted to find some sort of inspirational “yes, you can do it,” Oprah-style book and spend the evening on the couch.
“Hey, I know you!”
That voice made her stop in her tracks. There, not five steps away, stood Charlie Gill, looking as if he’d walked between raindrops.
“Oh my gosh—hey. It’s Oliver’s person!” It sounded like she had forgotten his name but “CharlieGill! CharlieGill! CharlieGill!” echoed in her head like a demented Greek chorus. Cora ran her hand over the top of her wet head, lamenting the frizz surely popping from her thick braid.
“Looks like you worked outside today. You’re soaked!” He laughed sympathetically.
Cora did a little curtsy. “Yep. The glamorous life of a dog trainer. I now have raisins for toes.” She felt the splotches forming on her neck.Toes? Why did I bring up my feet?Cora had planned on putting a little extra effort in her appearance the next time she was due to meet with Charlie and Madison—an ironed shirt and tidy ponytail at least—but here she was looking positively shipwrecked.
“I have an idea—want to warm up and grab some coffee with me downstairs? I actually have about a dozen Oliver questions I’d love to ask you ... I’m buying.”
She felt another splotch bloom near her ear. Coffee with Charlie? Was Madison going to join them? Could Cora use the opportunity to win Madison over so their remaining lessons would be conflict-free? But what if Charlie was alone? Would joining him for coffee be an ethics breach... especially because he looked even better than she remembered?
Cora wanted nothing more than to sit across from Charlie with a hot cup of coffee in her hands while a Sinatra-wannabe crooned a movie soundtrack in the background. She let her mind drift for a few moments, lulled by how perfect it would be if he weren’t actually her client with a supermodel girlfriend. Maybe their feet would touch accidentally under the table. Maybe he’d laugh at all of her jokes, and tell her that he liked the way her one curl fell right above her eye. She could feel the blush splotch threatening to take over the side of her face.
