Boomer's Bucket List Page 8

  The first two hits were paid ads for Compton/Sellwood, a PR firm that Nathan had a passing familiarity with. It was one of the smaller agencies in Chicago, but was known for keeping close tabs on its powerful political clients while maintaining tight control of their carefully cultivated images. The third hit was a link to a press release about the CLIO Awards and the next was a Wikipedia entry for Jennifer Marie Westbrook. He clicked on that one and started to read.

  Born in Fulton, Illinois, to Wilfred and Ida Westbrook …

  He’d been to Fulton once. It was a tiny town on the border with Iowa. One of the Quad Cities; economically depressed; lots of windmills. She probably grew up on a farm. He shouldn’t have made that comment about her truck.

  Crowned Miss Teen Illinois … Left college to pursue a modeling career …

  That wasn’t surprising. Not with those legs.

  Married manager, Victor Ott …

  Damn! Nathan grimaced, feeling his hopes begin to fade.

  Acrimonious divorce … No children …

  Okay, he was back in the running.

  Named Ad Executive of the Year … Currently a senior account executive at Compton/Sellwood … Awards include …

  His eyebrows shot up as he went down the list of honors and awards she’d won. Holy macaroni. This woman was waaaaay out of his league.

  “Okay,” he said, closing the browser. “Back to reality.”

  He spread his notes out on the table and set to work. Interviewing docents and visiting National Historic sites hadn’t yielded much that he could build an article around, and he’d seen enough historic gas stations to last him a lifetime. How many more synonyms were there for “quaint”? The thought of going back and trying to wheedle some personal information out of Mabel was tempting, but he suspected the effort would prove fruitless. As strange as it seemed, not everyone in the world hungered for celebrity. That left the last place he’d visited the day before: the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge.

  Two hours and four cups of coffee later, Nathan had a three-hundred-word article polished and ready to send to Julia. Once he added a few pictures, his editor would have more than enough to fill whatever spot she’d reserved for it. It wasn’t until he took out his phone that he remembered: He hadn’t taken any pictures of the bridge.

  No matter; it wasn’t far. He’d just swing by and snap a few photos on his way to the place he was visiting today: Purina Farms. After sitting in the Mustang for the last two days, it would be good to get out and stretch his legs for a while, and articles about pets were always a hit. Plus, with any luck he might run into Jennifer and Boomer there. Nathan still had some questions he’d like to ask her.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jennifer stood on the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge, holding fast to the guardrail as she and Boomer peered down at the turgid Mississippi. They’d just finished walking the entire length of the bridge and back—two miles—and it was time to take a break. Since leaving home, Boomer’s energy level had been unpredictable. There were times, like yesterday at the dog park, when he romped and played like his old self, then others when it seemed that all he wanted to do was sleep. If they were going to make it all the way to the West Coast, she thought, they needed to pace themselves.

  Boomer leaned forward, keeping an eye on the silvery shapes that wiggled just out of reach. The turbulent, oxygen-rich tailwater teemed with game fish that time of year. Jennifer pointed them out as they rose to the surface.

  “These are mostly walleye,” she said. “Oh, but that’s a bluegill… and there’s a catfish. I used to catch those when I was a kid. We ate a lot of catfish back then.”

  Poor food.

  That’s what the kids at school called catfish: bottom-feeders, food for poor people. Even now, with all the money and success she’d earned, it still nettled. The things that happen to you when you’re young just seem to ripple out, she thought, touching everything else in your life. If she hadn’t been so ashamed of being poor back then, maybe her life would have been different. She might not have fallen under Vic’s spell, or been afraid to take time off work to be with her dog, or say no to a client with questionable ethics.

  Boomer reached his paw over the wooden trestle and tried to scoop a fish from the water.

  “No, Boomie. Those fish are too slippery for you to catch. Come on,” she said. “Let’s go sit down.”

  It was peaceful there, and quiet. The wind had started to pick up, creating a tiny twister of fallen leaves that danced along the riverbank. Jennifer found a bench behind a windbreak of black haw and chokecherry and took a seat. Boomer jumped up beside her and put his head in her lap. She started stroking his fur, absently picking out the bits of leaf and twig that seemed to attach themselves by magic whenever he was out-of-doors. They had the place to themselves; the only sounds she heard were the water lapping against the shore and the soft rustling of the leaves. She should be enjoying herself, Jennifer thought. Instead, she was racking her brain for something to do.

  Maybe they should just turn around and go back, she thought. Was there really anything along Route 66 that they couldn’t see or do closer to home? Every time Boomer turned his nose up at something she thought he’d enjoy, Jennifer felt guilty, the voice in her head telling her that she should have known, that if she’d spent more time getting to know Boomer and less at the office, he’d be having a good time now instead of lolling in the backseat while she dragged him from place to place. Then again, maybe she was just incompetent. Look at Nathan Koslow. He’d thought of something fun for Boomer to do, and he didn’t even own a dog.

  Jennifer winced, thinking about the way she’d acted back at the park. It wasn’t like her to be so rude to someone, even someone as deserving as he was. Nathan Koslow had never done anything to hurt her personally, after all. In fact, the opposite was true. Not only had he saved her at the speedway, he’d passed along a tip that had made for a special outing for her dog. Perhaps she was just angry with him for pointing out something that she’d been trying to ignore for a long time: Those clients he’d trashed had gotten what they deserved.

  She heard a car engine and the sound of gravel crunching in the parking lot. Then a car door opened and shut. With the bushes behind her, she couldn’t see who it was, but the heavy footsteps approaching sounded like a man’s. Boomer’s head came up, and she felt the fur along his backbone stiffen. Jennifer swallowed, trying not to think about the two girls who’d been raped and murdered on the bridge years before, their bodies dumped into the river. Suddenly, the solitude seemed ominous, threatening. Having Boomer with her wasn’t the same as knowing there were human witnesses in the area.

  Boomer jumped down from the bench and sniffed the air as the footsteps came closer. It was nothing, she told herself, probably just someone who wanted to see the bridge, but her brain had already switched into survival mode. Jennifer reached into her purse, grabbed her keys, and took out her phone. If attacked, she would use the keys as a weapon, take a picture of her assailant, and call for help.

  This is silly, she told herself, but she still didn’t put them away.

  Then Boomer gave two short barks, and before she could grab him, he took off, tearing through the bushes. Jennifer heard the footsteps stop, then a scuffle, and a man’s voice.

  “Hey, Boomie. Whatcha doing here?”

  As Nathan came around the corner, Jennifer collapsed back onto the bench.

  “Oh. It’s you.”

  “Yep,” he said. “Just me.”

  Boomer was dancing around, beating Nathan with his tail and nipping at his outstretched hands.

  Jennifer scowled. “I didn’t say ‘just’ you.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He pointed. “What have you got there? Pepper spray?”

  She held out her hands.

  “Keys? Cell phone? Good thinking,” he said. “I’m scared already.”

  As Jennifer put them back in her purse, Nathan looked around.

  “I see you two are enjoying another outing full o
f fun and excitement. Did you walk all the way to the end of the bridge and back? That’s almost too much mirth and merriment for just one day.”

  Jennifer shook her head. And there she was, feeling guilty about being rude to the guy. Why did he have to be so annoying?

  “What are you doing here?”

  Nathan showed her his phone.

  “Taking pictures for the paper. Sorry if I bothered you.”

  He headed toward the bridge, Boomer tagging along at his heels, and started walking along the embankment, looking for a way down the steep slope to the shore below. Jennifer looked on resentfully. What was it about this guy that her dog found so appealing? It was like watching a canine version of the Pied Piper.

  “How was the hydrant museum?”

  “Oh, uh, it was great,” Jennifer said.

  She’d been so rattled by his sudden appearance that she’d forgotten to thank him for the tip.

  “There were a couple of other dogs there, too. Thanks for telling us about it.”

  Nathan took a tentative step over the edge and started down toward the water. Boomer made a few halfhearted attempts to follow, then gave up and began pacing the area, whining fretfully. Jennifer walked over to the edge, put his leash back on, and the two of them watched Nathan continue his descent.

  “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. At the park, I mean. You’re right; we were both just doing our jobs.”

  “Yeah, well, I lost mine,” he said. “Tell your clients they can sleep peacefully now.”

  The embankment started to give way, releasing a small avalanche of dirt and gravel. As Nathan began to slide, Jennifer shortened the leash to keep Boomer from scrambling down after him.

  “I thought about what you said. Maybe they did deserve what you wrote about them.”

  Nathan grabbed for a handhold to steady himself.

  “I guess you earned your pay, then, huh?”

  Jennifer pursed her lips. Why the nasty retorts? Couldn’t he see that she was trying to apologize?

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “I’m sure you were,” he said, struggling to stay upright.

  “Then why are you being such a jerk?”

  Nathan had finally reached the firmer ground at the bottom of the bank. He took a picture of the bridge, then looked up at her thoughtfully.

  “I suppose it’s because that’s what I always do when I’m nervous.”

  Jennifer drew back. “Why are you nervous?”

  “Because,” he said as he started back up the embankment. “You’re a smart … successful … woman”—he grabbed a tree root and hauled himself up over the edge—“who is so much better looking than I am that I’m not even sure we’re part of the same species.”

  The baldly self-deprecating comment made Jennifer laugh. It seemed that Nathan Koslow was not only a scathing commentator, he was an equally unsparing self-critic.

  Boomer was greeting Nathan’s return with a kind of joyful scolding, grizzling softly as he nudged him away from the precipice.

  “I think you’ve charmed my dog,” she said.

  He smiled. “Just your dog?”

  “Yes.” Jennifer hesitated. “For now.”

  “So,” Nathan said, patting Boomer’s side. “Where are you two going today?”

  She shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re just going to head home.”

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t be a quitter.”

  “Why not? Boomer’s bored and I’m fresh out of ideas.” She felt her chin dimple. “You were right. This whole plan to drive Route 66 was just stupid.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said. “Come on, I’ll prove it to you.”

  *

  Purina Farms was having its annual Canine Games, and they were everything that Jennifer had been looking for. There were farm animals for Boomer to sniff, dogs for him to greet, and interactive dog food exhibits where he could sample and vote for his favorite flavor of kibble. He romped through an obstacle course, met Chops the pig, and got squirted in the face when he stepped too close to a milking demonstration. For a dog who’d spent his entire life in a three-bedroom town house, it was heaven.

  “This was great,” Jennifer said as they left the event center. “Thanks again for telling us about it.”

  Nathan’s face fell. “That almost sounds like you’re leaving.”

  “We are. I think Boomer’s had enough for one day.”

  “But there’s still so much to do.” He looked around at the acres of corrals and buildings yet to be explored. “I thought this was what you were looking for.”

  “It was,” she said. “And I really appreciate your bringing us here. But I want to go before he gets too tired.”

  They both glanced down at Boomer, who smiled up at them, still wearing the remains of his milky mustache.

  “He doesn’t look tired to me,” Nathan said. “Can’t you guys at least stay for the costume contest?”

  Jennifer hesitated. She knew what he must think. After complaining that there was nothing exciting to do, she was leaving the best place they’d found so far. If Nathan knew how sick Boomer was, he’d probably understand, but she could barely stand to think about it herself, much less tell someone else. It was what she’d always done when bad things happened.

  We aren’t poor, I’m just not hungry. Dad isn’t dead, he’s just sleeping. Vic didn’t hit me, it was just an accident.

  Nathan looked at her quizzically, and Jennifer realized that he was still waiting for an answer. Maybe it was time to stop pretending, she thought. Maybe she could tell him about Boomer, and the world wouldn’t end. For some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she thought he might just understand. She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile.

  “How about lunch?”

  They ordered hot dogs and chips at the concession stand and took a seat on a picnic bench. Boomer crawled under the table and started gnawing on one of the treats they’d bought him in the gift shop. Jennifer stared at her food, wanting to take a bite, but as she tried to find the words to talk about her dog’s condition, her throat got tight and she was afraid she might choke. Nathan finished his first hot dog and started on another, apparently unfazed by her reticence. She licked her lips, absurdly grateful that he wasn’t pressing her for details.

  “We got some bad news before we left on our trip,” she said. “In fact, it’s pretty much the reason we’re here.”

  He nodded and fished a potato chip out of his bag, saying nothing. It was as if he couldn’t care less if she told him or not. Jennifer reminded herself that Nathan Koslow was used to interviewing reluctant subjects. No wonder he got people to talk to him, she thought. He was good at this.

  “Anyway, the short story is, Boomer is dying. He has a heart condition that there’s no cure for. The vet told me he had a month left and I thought—” Jennifer faltered, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I thought maybe if we could do some fun things in the time he has left, it would make up for all the times I left him alone while I was at work.”

  A tear spilled down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

  “So, that’s my story,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Nathan ate the last chip in the bag and crushed it between his hands, the savageness a stark contrast to his outward calm. He looked at her and shook his head.

  “That sucks.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Stacy sat at Derek Compton’s computer, staring at the Facebook page that Jason and the social media team had created for Boomer. There was no question that the memorial page they’d come up with was way beyond anything she could have done herself; the graphics were amazing, and the pictures Jennifer had sent her had been cropped and edited professionally. But it looked more like one of the slick ad campaigns that Compton/Sellwood was famous for than the simple celebration of a dog’s life that she’d envisioned. As the two men hovered, waiting to hear her reaction, she tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t give offense.

 
“It’s called Boomer’s Bucket List?”

  Jason nodded. “I think it pretty much says it all: Dying dog grabs for the brass ring one last time before he kicks it. My team worked on it all night. You like?”

  “Yeah,” she said, squirming in the oversized chair. “I guess so.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you guess so?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a little … different from what I thought it was going to be.”

  Stacy’s hands felt clammy. The way Jason was glaring at her made her nervous. She glanced up at her boss, hoping he’d find the whole thing as over-the-top as she did. Instead, Derek Compton nodded approvingly.

  “You and your team did a great job with this,” he said. “I think she’s just a little overwhelmed, aren’t you, Stace?”

  She swallowed, trying to ignore her misgivings. Criticizing something that someone else had made just for her would be really rude, she told herself. Without their help, the best she could have done would have been a bunch of photos with a few lame captions underneath, something she’d have been apologizing to Jennifer for the second she saw it. Just because Boomer’s Bucket List wasn’t exactly the way she’d imagined it, Stacy told herself, that didn’t mean it had to change.

  The two men were still waiting for a response.

  “It’s just so much better than I’d expected,” she said. “I guess I don’t know what to say.”

  With that, the tension in the room eased. Her okay had not only taken the edge off Jason’s scowl, but it seemed to have given him carte blanche to expound on some of the site’s more interesting features to the boss. Once again, Stacy found herself being forced into the background.

  “There’s a comment section for visitors who want to leave a message of support or share their own experiences, but for the time being we’re limiting it to likes and shares on the content only.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Compton said. “We’ll need to keep a tight rein on the content. I don’t want anyone hijacking this thing.”

  “Agreed. As more pictures come in, Stacy can forward them to me and we’ll get them cleaned up and published.”