“That’s right. Pop star, rock star—I’m not sure where she fits.”
“Bad girl of pop,” Fiona said over a mouthful of omelet. “She’s a little crazy.”
“Maybe so, but they steamed it up for a few months after she commissioned him to design several pieces for her house on Bainbridge Island. She’s originally from Washington state and has a house there.”
“Yeah, I know. I read
“Some people like to shock, I think. Anyway, it fizzled. Still, I expect it didn’t hurt him, business-wise. Then about three months ago, he moved here, and Island Arts is very proud, and damn lucky, to be his exclusive outlet in the San Juans.”
Sylvia lifted her teacup in toast, then sipped.
“Did you get all that from his bio for Island Arts’ Web page and brochures?”
“Actually the bio he gave me was a little thin, so I Googled him.”
“Sylvia.”
Unashamed, Sylvia tossed her lush curls. “Listen, when I take on an artist I have to know who they are. For one thing, I often have to travel to them to check out their work. I wouldn’t want to wander into the den of an ax murderer, would I?”
“I bet you can’t Google most ax murderers. Except those already in prison or in the ground.”
“You never know. Anyway, over and above his work, I like him. What did you think?”
“Since he was a little pissed that Jaws ate the headrest in his truck—”
“Oops.”
“Yeah, and was obviously frustrated with his new puppy-owner status, it might be difficult to judge. On surface observation, and setting aside his physical attributes—”
“And he has them,” Sylvia said with a wicked wiggle of eyebrows.
“No question. I’d say he’s not used to having responsibility for anyone other than himself, and more used to solo ventures. A lone wolf sort—which you’ve added to with this morning’s data: a private place on the sound of a very small island, his move away from family, his choice of career.”
“Sometimes a lone wolf just hasn’t found a mate—or his pack.”
“You’re forever a romantic.”
“Guilty,” Sylvia agreed. “And proud of it.”
“Well, on his side, the puppy’s crazy about him. Shows no fear. Right now, the dog is the alpha, which tells me the man has a soft center. It may be small—can’t know yet—but it’s there. That’s also illustrated by the fact that while he’s very frustrated and annoyed, he doesn’t seem inclined to get rid of the dog. And when given logical options, he accepts. He signed Jaws up for kindergarten, and while I wouldn’t say Simon appears to be happy or enthusiastic about it, he did seem determined. So while not especially used to taking responsibility for another, he will take it when he sees no way out.”
“I swear, you should have gone into psychology. Or profiling.”
“Everything I know, I learned from dogs.” Fiona rose to take her plate to the dishwasher, then turned to step behind Sylvia’s chair and wrap her arms around her stepmother’s neck. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime.”
“Have another cup of tea. I’m going to set up for class.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Not in those boots. We’re a little soggy from yesterday’s rain. Change your very sexy ones for my Uggs before you come out. They’re in the mudroom.”
“Fee,” Sylvia said before Fiona left the room.
“Yeah.”
“It’s been nearly eight years now, for both of us.”
“I know.”
“It hit me this morning. Sometimes it does when it comes up on the anniversary of Will’s death. So I just wanted to get out of the house—and more, to see you. I want to tell you how glad I am you’re here, that I can come by and fix you breakfast, or borrow your Uggs. I’m so glad, Fee.”
“Me too.”
“He’d be so proud of you. He was proud of you, but—”
“I know he was, and I like knowing he’d be proud and happy with what I’ve done. With what I’m doing.” She let out a breath. “Greg would, too. I think. So much of him’s faded, his voice, his scent, even his face. I never thought I’d have to pull out a photo to bring his face clearly into my head.”
“Seven years is a long time. You were so young, sweetie. I know you loved him, but you were so young. You didn’t have much time together really.”
“Almost two years, and he taught me so much. I have what I have now because of what Greg taught me, what he showed me, what he gave me. I did love him, Syl, but I can’t remember what it felt like anymore. I can’t bring back how he made me feel.”
“We loved him, too, your dad and I. He was a good, good man.”
“The best.”
“Fee, maybe you can’t bring back what you felt for him because it’s time you let yourself feel for someone else.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes... well, sometimes I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that.”
“Feelings don’t always happen when we’re ready for them.”
“Maybe not. Maybe I’ll get a surprise. But for now, I’ve got enough to keep me occupied. Don’t forget the Uggs.”
After her advanced class, a group of six including Oreo, Fiona prepared for her special-skills group, novice level. Most of the students were off-islanders with hopes to earn certifications as Search and Rescue dogs. Some in this larger class would make it, some would not. But she knew every dog and owner would benefit from the additional and more specialized training.
As students arrived, it was socialization time—for canines and humans. Not a waste of time, in her opinion, but a vital step. A dog who couldn’t be or wouldn’t be socialized would never make the cut. And the ten-minute “mixer” gave her the opportunity to judge how well the dogs and handlers were doing with their at-home training.
She watched, her hands in the sagging pockets of an ancient hooded jacket. “Okay, let’s get started. We’ll run the basics first.”
She ran them through heeling, on then off leash—with mixed results.
“Snitch, Waldo,” she said, addressing the dogs rather than the owners.
“We’re going to need to practice those off-leash skills a little more at home. We’re close, but you can do better. Let’s try recall. Handlers, step away. I want you to wait until your dog is distracted, then give the command. Let’s be firm. Don’t forget reward and positive reinforcement.”
She deliberately distracted some of the young dogs herself. Petting, playing. Still, the percentage of success pleased her. That percentage faltered on drop on recall as most of the dogs wanted to play when called.
She culled out the worst offenders, assigning the others to work on sitstay while she did a few one-on- ones.
“There are good reasons you need your dog to stop instantly. There could be danger he doesn’t understand. In addition, that instant and complete response shows absolute trust. When you say
It wasn’t the dog portion of the partnership that needed work, but the human, in Fiona’s opinion. Callie tended to be hesitant.
In minutes, with a sure, firm tone, Fiona had the puppy heeling like a champ and dropping on command like a soldier.
“I don’t know why he won’t do it for me.”
