Ada Connery laughed. “Of course I’ll be all right. If I want tea, I’ll get it. I’m not crippled up or anything, you know—it’s just that my eyesight is poorly these days.”
According to Liam, his mother was stone-blind.
Charlotte went out. Her Suburban was safely parked in the driveway. The wind caught her hair in cold gusts and the sunshine that had broken through the clouds earlier had vanished. The sky was very dark.
Jamie emerged from a shed at the back of the property, where there were several barn-red outbuildings. “Want to see the new litter?”
Everyone here was pup-crazy! That was okay by Charlotte. She liked pups, too. Who didn’t? “Sure.” She made her way over to the boy. “Where’s Maggie?”
Charlotte could see several chain-link runs out behind the sheds. Four or five dogs stood at attention behind the fence, regarding her alertly. They were all shades of brown. Some were black. One barked, but the rest were silent and watchful. Labradors and Chesapeake Bay retrievers, Ada had said.
Jamie gestured toward the driveway. “Liam told me to leave her in your truck, since you’d be going soon, anyway.”
She walked beside him as he led her into the closest building.
“This here is Sammy,” the boy said proudly. “She’s one of Liam’s top bitches.” Charlotte couldn’t help wincing. She just wasn’t used to hearing that word all the time.
“Oh, wow,” she said softly, kneeling down. Five chocolate-brown pups with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen poked their noses out between the slats of their pen and sniffed at her ankles.
“Want to hold one?” Jamie held the pen door wide open and a tan-colored dog—obviously the mother—came toward them, wagging her tail. Jamie scratched her ears.
“Look at their blue eyes!” Charlotte said. She’d never seen pups with eyes like that before.
Jamie gave her an indulgent look. “All Chessies have blue eyes when they’re babies. Then they turn green and then finally yellow, when they grow up. Amber, Liam calls it.”
Liam, Liam, Liam. A major case of hero worship here. Where was he?
Charlotte bent to study the pups. They’d clustered around her feet, and one had its tiny teeth in her shoelace. She picked it up. The puppy had tons more skin than it needed, which gave its face a dozy, wrinkly look. Just like a little bear. Its little candy-pink tongue came out for a few seconds when it yawned. How adorable. A thousand dollars!
“So, this Sammy—the mom—is this her first litter?”
“Her fourth. Sammy’s the best. I helped train her,” he added proudly.
“I’ll bet that’s quite a job,” she said, tickling the pup under its chin.
“Not really. Liam says I’m a natural. I got a talent for it. But you don’t have to do much with these little fellas,” he said modestly. “They got the instinct. Liam trains gun dogs for other folk—Labradors, weimaraners, goldens, you name it. He’s got five boarders now, but mostly he trains his own Labs and Chessies and sells them started.”
“Started?”
“Partly trained. I’ve got a pup of my own,” Jamie went on enthusiastically, his blue eyes meeting hers. “Buster. Liam gave ’im to me. One of Old Jimbo’s pups. A brother to Scout. Liam says I can set up with my own dogs now, but my ma says I got to finish school first.”
“How old are you, Jamie?”
“Fourteen.”
“Shouldn’t you, uh—” Charlotte paused and winked “—be in school today?”
“Yeah,” he said, with a jaunty shrug. “I can catch up.” Then he sighed and stood. “Man, I hope there’s some dinner left. I’m starving, and that damn old Scout knocked our dinner into the bay.”
Charlotte walked slowly back to the house—no sign of Liam—gradually piecing together the events of the afternoon. Liam had taken out his dog and his cousin’s son for a training session. Where was the boat? Scout had caught scent of Maggie—must have, what else?—and thrown himself over the side, knocking their lunch into the water, and then struck out for shore, either to defend his territory or to make a new friend. Maybe both. Jamie had been sent to get him back. Liam had secured the boat and then followed to see what was going on, accompanied by the far more obedient Bear.
None of this was quite how she’d planned it—not dropping off Maggie as supposedly arranged by her sister, not meeting her first crush after all these years. She’d meant to be cool, collected, hair perfect, looking her best. The day was a complete mess all around.
Jamie took his meal out of the oven and sat down at the table. He seemed completely comfortable in the kitchen, as though he spent a lot of time there.
“Do you mind if I check on my clothes, Mrs. Connery?” Charlotte asked. Ada was contentedly knitting in the corner, the radio beside her turned on low.
“You go right ahead, dear.”
“Where’s Liam?” Charlotte asked nonchalantly on her way through to the room that housed the washer and dryer. She hadn’t expected him to disappear without a word.
“Probably went down to bring back the launch,” Jamie said with his mouth full. He chewed for a few seconds and forked up a lump of potato, which he held midway to his mouth. “We ditched the boat when Scout bailed, and now with this storm blowin’ up, Liam no doubt went to bring it in. Could blow away.”
No doubt. Well, it would’ve been nice to thank him in person. But then, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would care all that much. She would’ve liked the opportunity to talk to him a little more about boarding Maggie. She’d be back in the area on Monday; maybe if she didn’t find another kennel, she could approach him then.
Her clothes were dry. She whipped off the borrowed sweater in the laundry room, folded it neatly and set it on top of the dryer, wondering whose it was. It was a youthful, Icelandic style, not the sort of garment an older woman like Ada Connery would wear. Her own sweater felt wonderfully warm. She was feeling a lot better.
“Jamie, when you see Liam, will you thank him for me?”
“Sure.” The boy continued plowing through his meal, which looked pretty complete—meat, potatoes, gravy, green beans.
“Thank you, Mrs. Connery, for letting me use your dryer. Plus the tea was very nice.”
“Oh, don’t mention it, girl! I love having company. Don’t get so much of it, now that we don’t have regular guests anymore….”
“Regular guests?” Charlotte slowly pulled on her windbreaker.
The older woman waved one hand at the ceiling—painted tongue-and-groove, Charlotte noted. “My late husband and I ran this place as a bed-and-breakfast for a short time, along with my brother, Clement. Then, well—” She frowned and bent her face toward her knitting again. “Fergus passed away and Clement died a couple of years later, and my eyes began to bother me, so Liam came home to take over. He’s got no patience for visitors, so I just let it go. You didn’t think we needed this whole big house for just the two of us, did you, Charlotte? My land, no!”
A bed-and-breakfast. That made sense. The house was definitely perfect for it, size-wise. The modernized kitchen made sense now, too. And, no, she couldn’t quite see Liam Connery in the hospitality business. The fact that Ada’s husband had died and her son had no interest would account for the generally run-down air. The house and yard, anyway, if not the dog kennels.
“Well, I’ll be on my way.”
Ada waved cheerfully but made no attempt to get up. Charlotte