Boomer's Bucket List Read online

  Also by Sue Pethick

  Pet Friendly

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  BOOMER’S BUCKET LIST

  Sue Pethick

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  PET FRIENDLY

  Teaser chapter

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Sue Pethick

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0905-9

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-0905-5

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: January 2017

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0904-2

  To all the animals whose lives have touched and enriched my own

  PROLOGUE

  The summer she turned thirty, three things happened that changed the course of Jennifer Westbrook’s life. She landed her dream job, got a divorce, and adopted a dog.

  “How old are they?” she asked, staring at the bouncing, squirming mass of puppies in the pen.

  Betty, the woman who was selling them, smiled.

  “Four months old today. That’s Trixie, their mama, over there.”

  She pointed toward a frazzled-looking yellow Lab who watched them anxiously from a few yards away.

  “And the father?”

  The woman scowled.

  “A golden retriever, lives about half a mile down the road. Got out one day and made a beeline for this place.” She shook her head. “They tell me he’s purebred, but he’s got no papers and my business is selling registered dogs, not mutts. Every litter that can’t be sold for top dollar is money out of my pocket.”

  Jennifer looked around at the neat and orderly kennels that surrounded the woman’s modest farmhouse and nodded sympathetically. No doubt, a batch of mixed-breed pups was a nuisance to a small-time dog breeder like Betty, but the truth was, a mutt was exactly what she was looking for. Jennifer had spent half her life being told that everything about her had to be perfect. Now that she was finally on her own, she wanted nothing more than to lead a normal, “imperfect” life.

  “I’ll say this for him, though,” Betty added. “He makes good pups. They may not be purebred, but they’re lookers.” She gave Jennifer a sidelong glance. “So, you want to take a closer look?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  Betty held the puppies back as Jennifer stepped into their pen. From the other side of the fence, it had been hard for her to tell one pup from another, but now that there was a stranger in their midst, the difference in their temperaments began to show.

  Five of the six ran to her immediately, jumping and sniffing, giving gentle nips when Jennifer reached out her hand. Remembering the tips she’d read about choosing a good-natured puppy, Jennifer gently rolled each one onto its back and held it there briefly to see its reaction. All but one tolerated the treatment with good humor; now the choice was down to four. Next, she spent some time petting and picking up each one, but instead of helping her narrow the field, it only left her wishing she could take them all. She stood up, shaking her head.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “They’re all so sweet. Which one do I choose?”

  Betty gave her a knowing smile.

  “Give it a minute,” she said. “In my experience, people don’t choose a dog. The dog chooses them.”

  Jennifer was doubtful. Surely there were more scientific ways of choosing a companion animal, she thought: boxes to check, tests to perform. But there she was, having checked the boxes and done the tests and all it had done was make her head spin. She decided to give it a try.

  It took less than a minute for two of the pups to wander off and begin roughhousing, then a third bounded across the pen and knocked his little sister onto her back. They were losing interest, Jennifer thought, and who could blame them? The stranger’s novelty was wearing off.

  Then the last pup let out a contented sigh and leaned against Jennifer’s leg. She glanced down and saw a pair of chocolate-brown eyes looking up at her, their outer edges creased in an affectionate smile.

  “Looks like you’ve got your answer,” Betty said.

  “I think you’re right.” Jennifer looked up. “Does he have a name?”

  “Well, the kids call him Boomer, but you can name him anything you like.”

  “Why Boomer?”

  The woman chuckled. “He doesn’t say much, but when he does, you can’t miss it.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Boomer it is, then.”

  She plucked the little guy off the ground and gave him a cuddle. As he settled into her arms, Jennifer felt as if the last piece of her new life was falling into place. A whole world was out there just waiting for the two of them to discover it.

  “You and me, Boomer,” she said. “We’re going to have a lot of great adventures.”

  CHAPTER 1

  It was a glorious late-summer day in Chicago. The humidity that had made August so unbearable had finally relinquished its hold on the city, and the breeze blowing in from Lake Michigan held the promise of a perfect weekend. As Jennifer stepped out of her office, she couldn’t believe her good luck. There’d been no last-minute snafus, no clients demanding her personal assistance, and no out-of-town conferences to attend. Other than a few errands to run on the way home, in fact, her calendar was blessedly free for the next forty-eight hours. She couldn’t wait to pick up Boomer and get started.

  The doggie day care was a block and a half away. Boomer enjoyed spending time at Waggin’ Tails, but romping indoors wasn’t the same as being outside in the fresh air, and Jennifer wanted to take him with her while she made her rounds. The woman who taught their obedience class said it was good for dogs to get experience with different people and situations; a walk would give Boomer a chance to practice his good manners and tire him out a bit before dinnertime.

  The bell on Waggin’ Tails’ front door rang as Jennifer stepped inside, setting off a riot of barking in the back. The door separating the boarding area from the front room opened and Hildy, the co-owner, stepped out.

  “Jennife
r! You’re here early. Going out to enjoy this lovely weather?”

  “Yep,” she said. “Just thought I’d swing by and pick up your favorite client first.”

  The “favorite client” comment was something of an inside joke: Jennifer’s way of acknowledging that, sweet as he was, her dog could be a bit of a handful.

  Hildy buzzed the back room and asked them to bring Boomer up front.

  “Boomer’s been doing really well lately,” she said. “I think maybe he’s starting to settle down in his old age.”

  The door opened, and Hildy’s assistant brought out the Lab/retriever mix.

  “Seems a little early for that,” Jennifer said as Boomer bounded toward her. “He just turned five last month.”

  Hildy looked abashed.

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, maybe he was just tired then.”

  “Or maybe”—Jennifer smiled—“the obedience classes are finally starting to pay off.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” the woman said. “Well, we’ll see you two on Monday. Good-bye, Boomer.”

  “Old age,” Jennifer grumbled as they stepped outside. “You’re lucky you’re not a woman, Boomie. After a comment like that, you’d be dying your hair and getting Botox.”

  Downtown was crowded with office workers trying to get a jump on the weekend. As she and Boomer headed down the sidewalk, Jennifer noticed how often the strangers who passed them smiled when they saw him, and she congratulated herself for adopting such a kind and loving animal. Boomer might not be the best heeler in the world, but he didn’t snarl or jump on people, and he was a good listener whenever she’d had a tough day at work. In the short time they’d been together, in fact, Boomer had become her best friend.

  Their first stop was at Altimari’s Cobbler Shop to pick up a pair of shoes Jennifer had taken in for repair. The sling-back pumps had been the sole casualty of Boomer’s chewing phase as a puppy, and it was just bad luck that they’d been the most expensive pair she owned. In a strange way, the fact that he’d picked out the Manolos had earned him a grudging respect in her eyes; Boomer obviously knew quality when he tasted it. Nevertheless, she’d never quite worked up the nerve to toss the shoes out, and when she told Mr. Altimari that she still had them, he’d encouraged her to bring them by the shop and let him see if they could be salvaged. Considering how long they’d been sitting unworn in her closet, Jennifer figured she had nothing to lose.

  Lucio Altimari was at his workbench behind the counter when Jennifer and Boomer walked in. Mallet in hand, a leather apron secured to his wizened frame, he looked like an older version of St. Crispin, the patron saint of cobblers, whose picture was prominently displayed on the wall behind him.

  “Hello, Mr. Altimari,” Jennifer said as the door swung closed behind her. “I got your message.”

  The old man looked up and waved.

  “Ciao bella! Yes, I fix them,” he said, in an accent redolent of Tuscany.

  He set aside the boot he was working on and stood, slowly working the kinks out of his back as he approached the counter. At barely five feet tall, the tiny, white-haired gentleman was almost a foot shorter than Jennifer. Nevertheless, with his powerful forearms and piercing blue eyes, he could be something of an intimidating figure. The eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Boomer.

  “Ah,” he said. “Il distruttore di scarpe.”

  Jennifer’s Italian was rusty, but she was pretty sure he’d just called Boomer a shoe destroyer.

  “That was a long time ago,” she said, “and he’s really, really sorry he did it. Aren’t you, Boomie?”

  Boomer hung his head, and Mr. Altimari shuffled into the back of the shop to retrieve her shoes. When he set them on the counter, Jennifer gasped. They looked as good as new.

  “These are amazing,” she said, picking one up to examine it. “You’d never even know they were damaged.”

  “I do my best,” the old man said modestly. “Not perfect, but not so bad, either, eh?”

  He showed her the bill, and Jennifer gave him her credit card. It wasn’t cheap, she thought, but it was a lot less than a new pair of Manolos would be. As he handed her the receipt, the old man shot Boomer an admonitory look.

  “I forgive you this time,” he said. “But you no touch the Ferragamos or we gonna have words, capisci?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jennifer said. “I think Boomer’s learned his lesson.”

  Mr. Altimari wrapped the shoes in tissue paper and laid them carefully in a plain shoebox that he slipped into a paper bag. Satisfied that her dog had been sufficiently chastened, he could now move on to his favorite topic of conversation: helping Jennifer find a husband.

  “So, you have big plans for the weekend, yes?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “To tell you the truth, it’s been so long since I had an entire weekend off that I’ve forgotten how to plan for one.”

  “You should go out, have some fun.” He shook a gnarled finger at her. “You not gonna meet anybody at home.”

  Jennifer smiled and nodded, trying not to feel irritated. Mr. Altimari meant well, and if he knew nothing of her past, it was her own fault. After leaving Vic, she’d gone out of her way to remake her life—new town, new friends, new job. Maybe if she hadn’t been so eager to disavow her old life, things would be different, but there was too much at stake now for her to take the chance. Unless and until she wanted to open that Pandora’s box, Jennifer told herself, she’d just have to put up with a little well-intentioned meddling.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,” she said. “And if I can’t, I’m sure Boomer will.”

  Boomer looked up and wagged his tail happily.

  “I know, I know,” the old man said. “Not my business.”

  He handed her the bag.

  “Buona giornata.”

  “Molto grazie, Mr. Altimari.”

  The L clattered by as they stepped back out and headed for the grocery store. Jennifer felt a whoosh of air as the train passed overhead and shut her eyes against the dirt and leaves that rose up in its wake. Just two more errands, she thought, and they could go home. If she picked up dinner on the way, there’d be nothing to cook and no dishes to wash. There was still plenty of daylight left. Maybe the two of them could go down to the beach and play “catch the Frisbee.” And tomorrow, she thought, they’d get up early and take a jog around Lincoln Park. She and Boomer hadn’t done that in an age.

  Jennifer ducked into Trader Joe’s while Boomer waited outside, cadging pats from passersby and watching the cars make their way through rush-hour traffic. When she returned, he searched her pockets for the dog treat she always bought him as a reward, then devoured it quickly and waited while she bent down to untie him. As Jennifer grabbed his lead, she saw the hackles rise on the dog’s back.

  “What is it, Boomie? What’s wrong?”

  She looked up and saw a man she recognized coming toward them, talking on his cell phone, briefcase in hand.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned. “It’s Phil.”

  She ducked her head, wondering what to do.

  Oh, boy. This is awkward.

  The two of them had been on a date the month before that ended when Phil, who’d been drinking, came on too strong and Boomer jumped to Jennifer’s defense, baring his teeth and all but chasing the guy out of her house. Admittedly, it wasn’t Boomer’s finest hour, but Jennifer had had a hard time blaming him. The way she figured it, the guy had it coming.

  Phil was only a few feet away now—she’d know that self-important blather anywhere. She glanced up and their eyes met. Phil’s gaze went from Jennifer to Boomer and back again. Then, without missing a beat, he quickly changed course and crossed the street. As he scurried away, Jennifer smiled. Boomer wasn’t just a dog, she thought. He was a big, fluffy bodyguard.

  Probably best not to mention it to Mr. Altimari, though.

  After a quick stop at Chipotle for a burrito and chips, they walked through the door of Jennifer’s town house. Purse, leash, and sh
oes were abandoned at the door as she took the bags into the kitchen and set them on the counter. Boomer made a beeline for his water bowl.

  “What a day,” she said, taking a plate down from the cupboard. “Just once, I’d like to work for a client who knows what he wants before I finish my entire ad campaign.”

  She poured herself a Bud Light and set the chips on the table.

  “I told Derek he’s going to have to hire another AE if this keeps up, and you know what he said?”

  She took another sip of beer and plunked her plate down on the table.

  “He said half our clients would walk if he tried to steer them to another AE. Yeah, right,” she said. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

  Jennifer continued filling Boomer in on the latest down at Compton/Sellwood while she ate her burrito and finished off the chips. It wasn’t until she got up to get herself another beer that she realized Boomer was no longer in the kitchen.

  “Hey, dude. Where’d you go?”

  She walked out into the living room and found him lying on the couch. Boomer lifted his head and thumped his tail once, not bothering to get up.

  “Poor guy. You really are tired, aren’t you?”

  Jennifer placed her hand on his side and gently patted the silky coat.

  “All your buds at day care must have been running you ragged.”

  Jennifer frowned. They’d been home almost half an hour, and Boomer was still panting. It could be the heat, she told herself, but his heart, too, seemed to be beating a little faster than usual. Remembering Hildy’s comment about Boomer’s being more tired than usual, she wondered if he might be coming down with something.