“What’s wrong with that?”
I may have sounded a little defensive, and with good reason. I was eons away from applying to become a judge, if indeed I ever did. But I had plenty to learn in the meantime and this symposium, coming up at just the right time, had seemed like a nifty vacation opportunity. Did that make my intentions any more pure than Alana’s?
“You’re a different case entirely,” said Aunt Peg.
It was spooky how often she was able to read my mind, probably a skill she’d honed through decades of nonverbal communication with her Poodles.
“You’ll go to lectures and take a few notes, meet some new people over meals, maybe have a massage and take a hike in the woods, then go home feeling that you’ve had a successful stay. Alana, on the other hand, will drink too much and party too hard. She’ll flirt with half the men here, and won’t think her week is successful until at least one fight has broken out on her account.”
My gaze drifted toward the bar where Alana was now draped languidly over a stool, a pose that showed off her long, bare legs to perfection. “What’s her connection to the dog show world?”
“Tenuous at best. Several years ago she was involved with an older man who had a wonderful line of Old English Sheepdogs. She started going to shows with him and must have enjoyed herself because even after their relationship was history she continued to put in an appearance, usually at upper tier shows like Tuxedo Park or Ox Ridge.
“She fashions herself as some sort of freelance do-gooder, the moral arbiter of the dog world. Every six months or so she’s passionately devoted to a new cause, which could be anything from genetic research to saving pound puppies.”
“She sounds fascinating,” I said, mostly because I can never resist goading Aunt Peg.
“What she is, is dizzying. Try to keep up with her at your own peril. I haven’t got the energy.”
Energy, my aunt had in abundance. Patience, she did not. I suspected it was the latter that kept her on this side of the room while Bertie and Alana were now holding court on the other.
“Oh dear,” Aunt Peg said suddenly.
“What?”
“He’s here.”
“Who?”
She didn’t answer, and after a moment I realized I should have known. Richard Donner must have arrived.
I looked in the same direction she was staring and saw a perfectly ordinary-looking man. His dark hair was seasoned with gray at the temples, his nose was a shade too big for his face. But his shoulders were broad and his torso still lean. Wearing corduroy slacks and a blue cashmere sweater, he had the easy stride of a former athlete.
He paused in the doorway for a moment and surveyed the activity in the room. I thought perhaps he was looking for Aunt Peg, but then he turned and waited for an older woman behind him to catch up. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was and her white hair was sprayed up like a halo around her face.
Richard leaned down and said something, his lips close to her ear, and she nodded and smiled. When the older woman headed toward the bar, Richard placed a determined smile on his face and came toward us.
“Quick!” Aunt Peg said under her breath. “What should I do?”
“Smile.”
“I’m smiling,” she said through gritted teeth. “What else?”
“Act natural.”
“Natural? Natural? There’s nothing the least bit natural about this whole situation. What the hell does that mean?”
My aunt is not a woman given to swearing. Nor one who usually succumbs to nerves. I was seeing a whole new side of her, and it was not necessarily her most appealing one.
“How do I look?” she demanded.
Any second Richard would be upon us. Just as well because then she would have to stop spitting out rapid-fire questions.
I leaned over and whispered, “Perfect. You look perfect.”
Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and I hear her exhale a soft breath. Then she held out both hands to clasp the one Richard was offering.
“I’m Peg,” she said simply.
“I know,” he said. “I could tell that from across the room. You’re the most striking woman here.”
Jeez, I thought. Good answer.
“And this is my niece, Melanie.”
Richard and I scoped each other out.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said after a moment. “If you’re anything like your aunt, I’m sure you’re a formidable woman.”
So my aunt’s new beau was a man of many compliments. But praise that had sounded just right when directed at Peg seemed over the top when applied to me.
“I find myself growing more and more like her all the time,” I said mildly.
Beside me, Aunt Peg was beaming. Not just smiling, but actually beaming. Either she was really, really happy, or else she was so tense that her fine motor skills had short-circuited.
I was hoping for the former, but I was beginning to suspect the latter.
“Perhaps I should leave you two alone so you can get to know one another?” I asked.
“Yes, please,” Richard said smoothly.
“No!” cried Peg.
That settled it. Nerves, it was. I was torn between feeling compelled to come to her aid and wanting to enjoy the moment at her expense.
Petty of me, I know. But it wasn’t like she didn’t make a habit of abandoning me to the wolves.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Richard. “I’m going to go to the bar and get a drink. Maybe while I’m there, I can refresh yours?”
Aunt Peg nodded.
She was drinking scotch neat. Considering that her usual beverage of choice was tea, it wouldn’t take too many more of those before the occasion acquired a pleasing, rosy hue.
“While I’m gone, you two can decide what you’d like to do.”
Richard took Peg’s tumbler and disappeared into the crowd.
“Don’t leave me here alone with him,” she said as soon as he was gone.
“Why not? I thought you were looking forward to meeting him.”
“I was. But now that the time has come, I find it’s harder than I thought. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I tried to make small talk with an attractive man? What if I say something stupid?”
I chuckled under my breath. “My being here won’t prevent that.”
“All right, then, what about awkward silences? Who’s going to smooth those over?”
“Why should there be any silences? Don’t you already know Richard? How long have you been corresponding?”
Aunt Peg considered. “Three months at least. But writing is entirely different. You can go back and edit what you say. There’s time for a second draft. In e-mail, I always sound brilliant.”
Hard to believe she could suffer a crisis of confidence, isn’t it?
“If you want me to stay,” I said, “I will.”
“Thank you.” Peg looked past me and scanned the room. Fresh drinks in each of his hands, Richard was threading his way