Death and a Dog

“So you came to the UK alone then?”

Finally, the woman let go of her hand.

“Yeah. I divorced my hubby, then realized divorcing him wasn’t enough. Really, I needed to be on the other side of the planet to him.”

Lacey couldn’t help but laugh. “Same. Well, similar. New York isn’t exactly the other side of the planet, but with the way Wilfordshire is, sometimes it feels like it may as well be.”

Gina cleared her throat. “Can I get a cappuccino and a tuna melt?”

The woman seemed to suddenly remember Gina was there. “Oh. I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” She offered her hand to Gina. “I’m Brooke.”

Gina didn’t make eye contact. She shook Brooke’s hand limply. Lacey picked up on the vibes of jealousy she was giving off and couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“Gina’s my partner in crime,” Lacey told Brooke. “She works with me in my store, helps me find stock, takes my dog for playdates, imparts all her gardening wisdom to me, and generally has kept me sane ever since I came to Wilfordshire.”

Gina’s jealous pout was replaced by a sheepish smile.

Brooke smiled. “I hope I get my own Gina, too,” she joked. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

She retrieved the pencil from behind her ear, making her sleek blond hair swish back into place. “So that’s one cappuccino and tuna melt…” she said, writing on the notebook. “And for you?” She looked up at Lacey with expectancy in her gaze.

“A cortado,” Lacey said, looking down at the menu. She quickly scanned everything on offer. There was a wide array of very tasty-sounding dishes, but really the menu consisted solely of sandwiches with fancy descriptions. The tuna melt Gina had ordered was in fact a ‘skipjack tuna and oak-smoked cheddar toastie’. “Erm… The smashed avo baguette.”

Brooke noted the order down.

“What about your furry friends?” she added, pointing her pencil between Gina and Lacey’s shoulders to where Boudicca and Chester were pacing around in a figure eight motion in their attempts to sniff one another. “Bowl of water and some doggie kibble?”

“That would be great,” Lacey said, impressed by how accommodating the woman was.

She would make a great hotelier, Lacey thought. Maybe her job back in Australia had been in hospitality? Or maybe she was just a nice person. Either way, she’d made a great first impression on Lacey. Perhaps the Wilfordshire locals would get their way and the two would go on to become firm friends. Lacey could always do with more allies!

She and Gina headed off to choose a table. Amongst the vintage patio furniture, they had the option of sitting at a table made of a door on its side, thrones made out of tree stumps, or one of the nooks, which were made from the halves of sawn up rowing boats filled with pillows. They went for the safe option—a wooden picnic table.

“She seems absolutely lovely,” Lacey said, as she slid to seating.

Gina shrugged and flopped down on the bench opposite. “Meh. She seemed alright.”

She’d gone back to jealously pouting.

“You know you’re my fave,” Lacey told Gina.

“For now. What about when you and Brooke buddy up to chat about being expats?”

“I can have more than one friend.”

“I know that. It’s just, who will you end up wanting to spend more time with? Someone your own age who owns a trendy store, or someone old enough to be your mother who smells of sheep?”

Lacey couldn’t help but laugh, though it was without malice. She reached across the table and squeezed Gina’s hand.

“I meant it when I said you keep me sane. Honestly, with everything that happened with Iris, and the police and Taryn’s attempts to drive me out of Wilfordshire, I really would’ve lost my mind if it hadn’t been for you. You’re a good friend, Gina, and I don’t take that for granted. I’m not going to abandon you just because a cactus-wielding ex-wrestler’s arrived in town. Okay?”

“A cactus-wielding ex-wrestler?” said Brooke, appearing beside them holding a tray of coffees and sandwiches. “You wouldn’t be talking about me, would you?”

Lacey’s cheeks went instantly hot. It wasn’t like her to gossip about people behind their backs. She’d only been trying to cheer Gina up.

“Ha! Lacey, your face!” Brooke exclaimed, thumping her on the back. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m proud of my past.”

“You mean to say…”

“Yup,” Brooke said, grinning. “It’s true. There’s really not as much of a story there, though, as people have made out. I wrestled in high school, then college, before doing a year-long stint professionally. I guess small-town English folk think it’s more exotic than it is.”

Lacey felt very silly now. Of course everything could be blown out of proportion and distorted as it was passed from one person to the next along the small town gossip system. Brooke being a wrestler in the past was as much of a non-event as Lacey having worked as an interior designer's assistant in New York; normal for her, exotic for everyone else.

“Now, as for wielding cactuses…” Brooke said. Then she gave Lacey a wink.

She decanted the food from the tray to the table, fetched bowls of water and kibble for the dogs, then left Lacey and Gina to eat in peace.

Despite the overly complicated description on the menu, the food was actually terrific. The avocado was perfectly ripened, softened enough to lose its bite but not too soft as to be mushy. The bread was fresh, seeded, and nicely toasted. In fact, it even rivaled Tom’s and that was the highest praise Lacey could really give anything! The coffee was the real triumph though. Lacey had been drinking tea these days, since it was constantly being offered to her, and because there wasn’t a local place that seemed to match up to her standards. But Brooke’s coffee tasted like it had been shipped straight here from Colombia! Lacey would definitely switch to getting her morning coffee from here, on the days when she started work at a sensible hour rather than at a time when most sane people were still snoozing in bed.

Lacey was halfway through her lunch when the automatic door behind her swished open and in waltzed none other than Buck and his silly wife. Lacey groaned.

“Hey, chick,” Buck said, clicking his fingers at Brooke and thudding down into a seat. “We need coffee. And I’ll take a steak and fries.” He pointed at the tabletop in a demanding way, then looked over at his wife. “Daisy? What do you want?”

The woman was hovering at the door on her tippy-toed stilettos, looking somewhat terrified of all the cactuses.

“I’ll just have whatever has the least carbs in,” she murmured.

“A salad for the missus,” Buck barked at Brooke. “Easy on the dressing.”

Brooke flashed Lacey and Gina a look, then went off to make her rude customers’ orders.

Lacey buried her face in her hands, feeling secondhand embarrassment for the couple. She really hoped the people of Wilfordshire didn’t think all Americans were like this. Buck and Daisy were giving her entire country a bad name.

“Great,” Lacey muttered as Buck began loudly talking at his wife. “These two ruined my tea date with Tom. Now they’re ruining my lunch break with you.”

Gina looked unimpressed with the pair. “I’ve got an idea,” she said.

She bent down and whispered something to Boudicca that made her ears twitch. Then she released the dog from her leash. She went pelting across the tearooms, leapt at the table, and grabbed the steak clean off Buck’s plate.

“HEY!” he bellowed.

Brooke couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.

Lacey gasped, amused by Gina’s antics.

“Get me another,” Buck demanded. “And get that dog OUT.”

“I’m sorry, but that was my last steak,” Brooke said, flashing a subtle wink at Lacey.

The couple huffed and stormed out.

The three women burst out laughing.

“That wasn’t your last at all, was it?” Lacey asked.

“Nah,” Brooke said, chuckling. “I’ve got a whole freezer stuffed full of them!”

It was drawing up toward the end of the workday and Lacey had finished valuing all of the naval items for tomorrow’s auction. She was so excited.

That was, until the bell rang and in waltzed Buck and Daisy.

Lacey groaned. She wasn’t as calm as Tom, and she wasn’t as jovial at Brooke. She really didn’t think this meeting would go well.

“Look at all this junk,” Buck said to his wife. “What a load of nothin’. Why did you even want to come in here, Daisy? And it smells.” His eyes went over to Chester. “It’s that disgusting dog again!”

Lacey clenched her teeth so hard she half expected them to crack. She tried to channel Tom’s calm as she approached the pair.

“I’m afraid Wilfordshire is a very small town,” she said. “You’ll run into the same people—and dogs—all the time.”

“It’s you,” Daisy asked, evidently recognizing Lacey from their two earlier run-ins. “This is your store?” She had a ditzy voice, like your average Valley Girl airhead.

“It is,” Lacey confirmed, feeling increasingly wary. Daisy’s question had felt loaded, like an accusation.

“When I heard your accent in the patisserie, I figured you were a customer,” Daisy continued. “But you actually live here?” She pulled a face. “What made you want to leave America for this?”

Lacey felt every single muscle in her body tense. Her blood started to boil.

“Probably for the same reasons you chose to vacation here,” Lacey replied in the calmest voice she could muster. “The beach. The ocean. The countryside. The charming architecture.”

“Daisy,” Buck barked. “Can you hurry up and find that thing you dragged me in here to buy?”

Daisy glanced over at the counter. “It’s gone.” She looked at Lacey. “Where’s the brass thing that was over there before?”

Brass thing? Lacey thought back to the items she’d been working on before Gina’s arrival.

Daisy continued. “It’s like a sort of compass, with a telescope attached. For boats. I saw it through the window when the store was closed over lunch. Did you sell it already?”

“Do you mean the sextant?” she asked, frowning with confusion over what a ditzy blond like Daisy would want with an antique sextant.

“That’s it!” Daisy exclaimed. “A sextant.”

Buck guffawed. Obviously the name amused him.

“Don’t you get enough sextant at home?” he quipped.

Daisy giggled, but it sounded forced to Lacey, less like she was actually amused and more like she was just being accommodating.

Lacey herself was not amused. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“I’m afraid the sextant is not for sale,” she explained, keeping her focus on Daisy rather than Buck, who was making it very hard for her to stay personable. “All my naval items are going to be auctioned tomorrow, so it’s not for general sale.”

Daisy stuck out her bottom lip. “But I want it. Buck will pay double what it’s worth. Won’t you, Bucky?” She tugged on his arm.

Before Buck had a chance to respond, Lacey interjected. “No, I'm sorry, that’s not possible. I don’t know how much I’ll fetch for it. That’s the whole point of the auction. It’s a rare piece, and there are specialists coming from all over the country just to bid on it. The price could be anything. If I sold it to you now, I may lose out, and since the proceeds are going to charity, I want to secure the best deal.”

A deep furrow appeared across Buck’s forehead. In that moment, Lacey felt even more aware of just how big and wide the man really was. He was well over six feet, and thicker than two of her put together, like a large oak tree. He was intimidating, in both size and mannerism.

“Did you not just hear what my wife said?” he barked. “She wants to buy your thingamajig so name your price.”

“I heard her,” Lacey replied, standing her ground. “It’s me who’s not being listened to. The sextant is not for sale.”

She sounded far more confident than she felt. A small alarm bell in the back of her mind started ringing, telling her she was plowing headfirst into a dangerous situation.

Buck took a step forward, his looming shadow stretching over her. Chester leapt up and growled in response, but Buck clearly wasn’t fazed and just ignored him.

“You’re refusing me sale?” he said. “Isn’t that illegal? Isn’t our money good enough for you?” He pulled a pile of cash from his pocket and waved it under Lacey’s nose in a decidedly threatening manner. “It’s got the Queen’s face on it and everything. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Chester began to bark furiously. Lacey gave him a hand signal to stop, and he did, obediently, but he still held his position as if he were ready to attack the second she gave him the go ahead.

Lacey folded her arms and squared off to Buck, aware of every inch he loomed over her but determined to hold her ground. She wasn’t going to be bullied into selling the sextant. She wasn’t going to let this mean, hulking man intimidate her and ruin the auction she’d worked so hard for and was so looking forward to.

“If you want to buy the sextant, then you’ll have to come to the auction and bid on it,” she said.

“Oh, I will,” Buck said through narrowed eyes. He pointed right in Lacey’s face. “You bet I will. Mark my words. Buckland Stringer will win.”

With that, the couple left, swirling out the store so fast they practically left turbulence in their wake. Chester ran to the window, put his front paws up against the glass, and growled at their retreating backs. Lacey watched them go, too, until they were out of sight. It was only then she noticed how much her heart was racing, and how much her legs were trembling. She gripped the countertop to steady herself.

Tom had been right. She’d jinxed herself by saying the pair had no reason to come to her store. But she could be forgiven for assuming there was nothing of interest for them in here. No one would have been able to guess by looking at her that Daisy had any desire to own an antique navy sextant!

“Oh, Chester,” Lacey said, sinking her head into her fist. “Why did I tell them about the auction?”

The dog whined, picking up on the note of mournful regret in her tone.

“Now I have to put up with them tomorrow as well!” she exclaimed. “And what’s the likelihood they know anything of auction etiquette? It’s going to be a disaster.”

And just like that, her excitement for her auction tomorrow was dowsed like a flame between fingertips. In its place, Lacey felt only dread.