Hounded To Death. Laurien Berenson

of letting Charles Evans, or anyone else, ruin it for me.”

      “Forewarned is forearmed,” said Aunt Peg.

      And wasn’t that a pleasantly cheerful thought on which to start the week?

      5

      The reception was beginning to wind down. That was fine by me because after two Shirley Temples, a slew of introductions to people whose faces I could barely remember, and more inane chatter than I usually heard in a week, I was worn out.

      Richard came back and collected Aunt Peg. Florence was nowhere to be seen; presumably Derek and Marshall had escorted her to dinner.

      Bertie and Alana had disappeared together while I’d been busy talking to Margo and Aunt Peg. I could have hunted them down but the prospect of food held little appeal, and the prospect of Alana’s company held even less.

      There was a granola bar in my purse upstairs that could double for dinner. Better still was the thought of stretching out on the bed and putting my feet up. Sad but true; it was eight-thirty on a Monday night and I was just about done for.

      As I walked up the wide staircase to the second floor of the inn, leaving the noise and the revelry behind, I ran my hand over my stomach. I felt the slight swell and imaged the tiny person nesting within. Life as I knew it had changed dramatically over the last few months. My breasts were tender, my ankles swollen, my energy level flagging.

      You better be worth it, I thought with a smile.

      I hadn’t expected a response and yet I wasn’t startled when one came.

      I am, said a voice in my head, clear as a bell. You know I am.

      No arguing with that.

      Once in the room, I immediately kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my waistband. A sigh of relief followed. That felt much better.

      Then I pulled out my cell phone and pushed the buttons to connect me with home. As I listened to it ringing, I piled up a nest of pillows on the bed and lay down gratefully.

      I imagined Davey running to pick up the phone, Sam pausing in what he was doing to hear who was calling. All the little routines of home, going on in my absence. The Poodles would follow Davey out to the kitchen; several would bark to add to the excitement.

      I could have called Sam’s cell phone, but that would have spoiled Davey’s fun. When you’re nine, things like picking up the phone are still exciting.

      I felt a swift stab of homesickness as I heard a click and Davey yelled, “Hey!”

      “Hey yourself, it’s Mom.”

      I could hear the Poodles in the background and I quickly picked out Faith’s distinctive voice. She was the first dog I’d ever owned and she’d become my canine soul mate. Since Faith can pretty much read my mind, I assumed she knew it was me on the phone.

      “I figured it was you,” Davey said, sounding very pleased with himself. “How are the Poconos? Are they big? Do they have snow on them?”

      Told that I’d be spending the week in the mountains, my son had pictured me scaling the Alps or living at a Mount Everest base camp. Unfortunately my real life wasn’t that exciting.

      “They’re medium-sized and I haven’t seen any snow yet. Actually the weather here is pretty much like it is at home.”

      “Oh. No skiing?”

      “Not this week. And probably not at all for me until after the baby is born.”

      “The baby needs a name,” said Davey.

      This was a familiar complaint. Davey is very organized and he likes the world around him to be the same.

      “Sam-Dad and I are working on it,” he said.

      “Good. What have you come up with?”

      “We’re thinking maybe Rufus.”

      I swallowed a laugh. “Really.”

      “You know, in honor of Sam’s Scottish heritage.”

      “Sam doesn’t have a Scottish heritage.”

      “That’s not what he told me.” This time it was Davey who let a giggle escape.

      “Okay,” I said. “Rufus sounds good. What if it’s a girl?”

      “It won’t be.”

      “It might be.”

      “It won’t.”

      The utter confidence of youth. While I loved the idea of a baby daughter myself, I was really hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed.

      “How’s everything going at home?” I asked.

      “Mom, you’ve only been gone a day. Not even.”

      “Yes, but I know you guys. And things can go wrong in less time than that.”

      “No problems here,” said Davey. “Everything’s cool. Wait! Here’s Sam.”

      “Hi, Mel.” Sam’s voice replaced my son’s on the line. “How’s everything going?”

      “Great. If you don’t count the fact that Aunt Peg came to this symposium to rendezvous with her new forty-nine-year-old boyfriend whom she met over the Internet, that some sort of judging scandal is brewing, and that the organizer of the event is afraid the keynote speaker is up to something nefarious.”

      “In other words, business as usual,” said Sam.

      “Pretty much.”

      “How are you feeling?”

      “Good.” I leaned back on the pillows and closed my eyes. “Tired.”

      “Don’t do too much. You’re there to enjoy yourself, take in a few lectures, learn a little something, have a week off. A low-stress vacation.”

      “There is such a thing?”

      “Damn straight. You’re on it. Let me talk to Bertie. I want to find out if she’s keeping an eye on you.”

      “Not here,” I said with a yawn. “She’s out partying the night away with her new friend, Alana.”

      “Not Alana Bennett?”

      “The very same.”

      Like Aunt Peg, Sam had been involved in the dog show world for eons. Her knowledge and connections were legendary, but his were pretty impressive too.

      “Tell Bertie to keep her hand on her wallet and her back to the wall,” said Sam.

      “Will do. Aunt Peg has already said much the same thing. Now, what’s this about Rufus?”

      Sam’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Just trying it on for size.”

      “And your supposed Scottish heritage?”

      “Supposed, hell. I look fine in a kilt.”

      “No arguments from me, not that I’ve ever had the pleasure. Maybe when I get back?”

      “Anytime, babe.”

      “Now listen,” I said on a more serious note. “Talk to Davey about the fact that he might be getting a little sister. He’s waited so long for a sibling, I’d really hate for him to be disappointed.”

      “I know,” said Sam. “Me too. I’ll work on it.”

      “One more thing. Reach down and give Faith a pat. Tell her it’s from me.”

      “Already done,” said Sam. “She’s been sitting on my lap listening to your voice while we’ve been talking.”

      My heart softened. “I love you.”

      “I know.”

      “Do