Boomer's Bucket List Read online

  “Have we got a Twitter account set up yet?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  While the two men talked over her, Stacy began scrolling down the page. It really was a cool Web site, and Boomer looked like he was having a good time. She hoped that when Jennifer looked back through all the photos, it would make losing him a little easier.

  “Why is there an ad in here?”

  Jason shot her an irritated look. “It’s not an ad. Nobody’s making any money off of this.”

  “It’s just a way to remind people that our agency is the one managing the page,” Derek Compton said. He gave Jason a significant look. “You know, maybe we could put a picture of Stacy somewhere on there, too. After all, the memorial page was her idea.”

  She gulped. Jennifer had never really given permission for anyone else to see her pictures. The only reason she’d even agreed to send them in the first place was because Stacy had convinced her that she’d be safer that way. Stacy was already feeling uneasy about the way this whole thing was turning out. If her name and face were on it, too, it’d look as if she’d been behind it 100 percent.

  At least they hadn’t made the page public yet, she told herself. Even if Jennifer was upset that her photos had been shared, once Stacy explained how inept she’d been and how much she’d wanted to do a really good memorial page for Boomer, she was sure that Jennifer would understand. You can’t really blame a person for trying to do a good job, can you?

  She shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t really care if I get the credit.”

  “Are you sure?” Compton said. “We could get one of our photographers to take a nice glamour shot for you.” He looked at Jason. “How hard would it be to add that?”

  “It’s doable,” Jason said doubtfully. “But we’d have to take the page down while we did the update and it might scare off our followers. Changing a page isn’t the same as just adding content.”

  “Wait a minute,” Stacy said. “The page isn’t live yet, is it?”

  “Of course it is,” Jason sneered. “You didn’t think we were just going to sit on it, did you? This whole thing is going to have a very short shelf life.”

  “I suppose I should have mentioned it before.” Compton gave her a guilty look. “I gave his team the okay last night.”

  Panic and remorse rose up in Stacy’s throat, nearly choking her. Why had she ever shown them those pictures? All she’d wanted to do was to make something nice, something Jennifer could look back on when Boomer was gone and remember what a good time they’d had on their trip. Now all those private pictures were being used, not to memorialize Boomer, but to sell the Compton/Sellwood brand with the ads they were putting on his Web site. The two of them had used her idea as a tool to promote themselves. Did they even consider how it might impact either her or Jennifer?

  She felt sick. What if Jennifer saw the page and hated it? What if she was angry with Stacy for showing her pictures to someone else? They’d always had a good relationship, almost like friends. How, Stacy asked herself, could she have put all that in jeopardy?

  She had to get out of there. If she stayed in Compton’s office for one more second, she was going to scream. She stood up abruptly and headed toward the door.

  “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for showing this to me.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said as he followed her out. “I need to go back to my office, too.”

  Stacy walked stiff legged back to her desk and started checking for phone messages, pointedly ignoring Jason. Now that they were out of Compton’s office and the pressure to be accommodating was off, she was furious. How dare he? For someone who was so prickly about having his own ideas hijacked, he’d sure done his darnedest to hijack hers. As she reached for the phone, she wished that Jason would just go away. Hadn’t he done enough to mess up her life already?

  She looked up sharply. “Can I help you with something?”

  Jason seemed oblivious to her hostile mood.

  “Yeah, how soon can you forward the rest of those pictures to my team? We need to get our likes pumped up, pronto.”

  She felt her lips tighten. “I don’t care how many likes the stupid page gets. You weren’t supposed to make it public. I told you I just wanted it to be for Jennifer.”

  He looked abashed. “Then why did you want to build a Web page?”

  “I didn’t. I just wanted to, you know, do something …”

  Stacy slumped a little in her chair. What had she been trying to do? Whatever it was, it seemed to have been lost somewhere along the way. She started out thinking she’d make a scrapbook, but that would have taken too much time, and she really wasn’t a “crafty” sort of person. And after that, she’d figured, well, the pictures were already digitized, so why not make something that Jennifer could have on her computer, like a screen saver or something? But she’d had no idea how to do that, and besides, the GIFs were really funny and you couldn’t really make those into a screen saver, could you?

  So, yeah. Maybe she had been wanting to do a Web site. But it was supposed to be a gift, something personal that Stacy could give to Jennifer as one friend to another, not a piece of clickbait on the Internet. Instead of memorializing Boomer’s short life, Jason had exploited it. Stacy was ashamed that she’d ever told anyone else about it. She set her mouth in a firm line.

  “I’m not giving you any more pictures,” she said.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because you already finished the Web page. You don’t need any more.”

  “Are you kidding? People want to see something new when they come back. Content is king. A static page is a dead page.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Boomer’ll be dead soon, too. There’s only so many more pictures that anyone will ever take of him. You might as well stop now.”

  Jason arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Mr. Compton’s going to see it that way.”

  Maybe if he’d been nice, Stacy thought later, she might have backed down. Her job, after all, was to help make things at the agency work smoothly, taking care of the tedious details that the artists, designers, and ad executives didn’t have time for. But if Jason Grant thought he could make her give him what he wanted by threatening to go to her boss, he had another think coming. She knew how guys like Jason saw her. They thought she was a nobody—one of the little people who scurried around behind the scenes, as easy to hire as fire—someone of no importance. Well, that wasn’t the way Jennifer saw her, and it wasn’t the way Stacy was going to let herself be treated, either. She thrust out her chin and stood her ground.

  “I. Don’t. Care. I’m not giving you any more of my pictures. If you want some, you’ll have to get them yourself.”

  She’d been braced for an outpouring of abuse. Instead, Jason stepped back and threw his hands up in surrender.

  “You’re right. Those pictures are yours.” His smile was disarming. “Sorry. Guess I just lost my head. It’s cool. No worries.”

  Stacy found herself groping for a response. This unexpected turnaround had thrown her off-balance. Had she misjudged the situation? she wondered. Maybe Jason wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you understand. No hard feelings, right?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “No hard feelings at all.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The Ozarks are one of nature’s most persistent optical illusions. As you drive west through Missouri, they seem to rise up around you, the small towns and modest cities along the route nestled in the rolling hills and valleys. But the Ozarks aren’t mountains, and the road that carries you through them is actually at the bottom of a great rift that cuts through a high plateau. Unless you see it from the air, it’s hard to reconcile the true nature of the phenomenon from the experience of being within it.

  —“The Ozarks, Mother Nature’s Op Art,” by Nathan Koslow, staff reporter

  Jennifer and Boomer spent the next day enjoying the sights as they made their way acro
ss Missouri. In the east, rivers crisscrossed the lowlands, some barely a trickle, others pockmarked with white water. Occasionally, they crossed one that was spanned by a covered wooden bridge, the humble, painted shelters harking back to a time when not only car travel, but life itself was slower, less hectic. Jennifer took a deep breath and loosened her grip on the steering wheel. With no e-mails to answer and no meetings to attend, the constant tension that she accepted as “normal” was finally easing. She’d needed this trip as much as Boomer had, she thought. She was glad she hadn’t called it quits.

  Telling Nathan about Boomer’s diagnosis had been the right thing to do. Once he put away the quips and snappy comebacks, he was actually a thoughtful, sympathetic listener, and it was a relief to finally get it off her chest. He’d also helped ease her anxiety about trying to find fun things for Boomer to do by offering to use his own resources to put together a list of dog-friendly things along their route. They planned to meet up that night in Carthage and watch a double feature at the 66 Drive-In: Beethoven and Beethoven’s 2nd. Not exactly highbrow entertainment, but she was tired of being stuck in her motel room every night, and Boomer might enjoy watching the dogs on the screen. Between now and then, Jennifer had promised to stop beating herself up and just enjoy having some low-key fun with her dog.

  A few miles past Rolla, they stopped to play fetch and take a romp along the shore of the Gasconade River, where Boomer learned the difference between a Red-eared Slider and a snapping turtle. The painful lesson was short-lived, however, and it wasn’t long before he was bounding through the water again, heedless of the wildlife that scuttled out of his way. Jennifer lay back on the riverbank and smiled. For the first time since leaving Dr. Samuels’s office, she was enjoying the present instead of regretting the past. It was as if finally facing the truth had made it easier for her to accept it.

  Boomer slogged up out of the water, dropped the stick beside her, and began shaking himself off. Jennifer squealed and turned away, raising her hands defensively as cold, silty river water went flying.

  “No, Boomer! Stop!” she laughed.

  Scrambling to her feet, Jennifer ran for the truck and grabbed one of the beach towels in back. When Boomer had finally finished shaking the water and slime from his coat, she threw the towel over him and rubbed him down.

  When Boomer was as dry as a beach towel could make him, they got back in the truck and headed for Springfield. The softly rounded silhouettes of the Ozarks rose up on either side of them, blanketed in the reds and yellows of early autumn, and the crisp fall air was tinged with wood smoke. As the truck wended its way past still blue lakes and rushing streams, Jennifer turned on the heater. Boomer laid his head down on the seat and sighed contentedly. It wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

  In Springfield, Jennifer stopped for gas and took Boomer for a walk at a nearby dog park. The days were getting noticeably shorter now, and the sun was nearing the horizon, but they were only about an hour away from Carthage, and for once they weren’t in a rush to get to a motel. Knowing their destination ahead of time meant that Jennifer was able to call and make reservations, and it was a lucky thing she had. The woman on the phone told her she’d gotten the last room available that night.

  As she pulled the truck back onto the highway, though, Jennifer felt a whisper of anxiety. Agreeing to see Nathan again had been a crazy impulse on her part, but was it really a good idea? Jennifer came from conservative Midwestern stock, and she prided herself on her levelheadedness; she wasn’t the type to meet up with a stranger on a whim. Or at least, she told herself, she wasn’t anymore. It had been a rash, impulsive action that led to her disastrous marriage to Vic, after all. She didn’t want to make a mistake like that again.

  But Nathan wasn’t a total stranger; Jennifer knew him by reputation, and he’d been kind to her as well as to Boomer. In the end, his offer to help her find more dog-friendly places on their trip had simply been too good to pass up. Besides, she told herself, this wasn’t a date. Nathan Koslow might be cute, but the teasing and smart comments got old quickly. If Jennifer had been looking at all, she’d want a man who was serious, someone mature. Nathan was more like an annoying kid brother than a potential boyfriend.

  *

  The Boots Court motel in Carthage was an authentic piece of Route 66 history. A white single-story building with a flat roof, rounded corners, and bright red awnings, it looked as if it had been made from giant Tic Tacs. As Jennifer got Boomer out of the truck, she took a quick survey of the parking lot. Nathan had told her he’d be there by midafternoon, and it was almost five thirty, but the blue Mustang was nowhere in sight.

  At once, her good mood evaporated. She’d been counting on those dog-friendly tips to help get the two of them through the rest of their trip. What was she supposed to do now? She shouldn’t have trusted him, Jennifer thought, as she grabbed their luggage. Hadn’t living with Vic taught her anything? You give away your power to a man, and you end up helpless.

  Boomer was still dozing on the backseat. She gave him a gentle shake and unlatched his harness.

  “Come on, sleepy boy. You can finish your nap in the room.”

  Maybe it was a good thing that Nathan hadn’t shown up, Jennifer told herself. She’d been having misgivings about meeting him there anyway. This way, she could just turn around and go home in the morning without having someone else try and talk her out of it. Nevertheless, as she walked through the door, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

  She gave her name at the front desk and signed the waiver promising to pay for any pet-related damage to the room. Jennifer wasn’t worried. Boomer was fastidious about his elimination habits, and there’d been no chewing incidents since the Manolos. The only concern she had was keeping him from barking, but as long as she didn’t leave him in the room by himself for too long, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  As the clerk stepped into the back room to get her motel key, Jennifer heard the front door open.

  “Hey,” Nathan said. “You made it!”

  Torn between feelings of relief and aggravation, Jennifer said nothing. She was glad he’d made it there safely, glad, too, that she’d have help with her itinerary, but the revelation she’d had about misplaced trust still resonated. Was meeting him there asking for trouble?

  Boomer, of course, had no such qualms. The second Nathan walked through the door, his bottom began wiggling and he chuffed happily in greeting. Nathan squatted down and grabbed his head, shaking it affectionately.

  “How was the trip?”

  “It was good,” she said. “Where’s your car?”

  He threw a thumb over his shoulder and started scratching Boomer’s belly.

  “The shop. I figured it was time to check it out; it’s been leaking oil since I left Joliet. I found a mechanic down the street who said he’d take a look and give me his verdict in the morning.”

  Nathan glanced up and his eyebrows drew together.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I was just a little concerned when I didn’t see your car.”

  “You were worried about me.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “Embarrassed about going to the movies alone, were you?”

  “No. I just thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

  “About our date? Never.”

  Jennifer pressed her lips together.

  “We’re taking my dog to a drive-in,” she said. “It’s not a date.”

  The desk clerk walked out of the back room and pulled up short when she saw the two of them standing there. She glanced at the key in her hand.

  “I thought you said you wanted a single room.”

  “A single plus a pet,” Jennifer said.

  The woman pointed. “No, I meant him.”

  Nathan put a hand on his chest and gave the woman a “who, me?” look.

  “Oh, we’re not together. She just followed me here.”

  Had Jennifer been th
inking he wasn’t so bad? She must have been crazy.

  “I didn’t follow you,” she hissed.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I don’t mind.”

  “Well, you can share a room if you want to,” the clerk said. “But I can’t give you a refund. The rooms are already paid for.”

  “I don’t need a refund,” Jennifer said, snatching her key out of the woman’s hand. “And, we’re not sharing a room.”

  *

  Jennifer had never been to a drive-in theater. Her family had been too poor to take her when she was young, and by the time there was money to spare, there were more sophisticated forms of entertainment on offer. Vic had never been shy about cadging tickets to movie premieres in her name, and he always relished the opportunity to have people see him squiring his “discovery” in public. As she maneuvered her truck past the cars that were spread across the tiered rows of parking spaces facing the giant screen, it felt as if she were reaching back in time to capture a piece of childhood that she’d missed the first time around.

  “If you back into a parking spot, the three of us can sit in the bed,” Nathan said.

  Jennifer drove slowly down the aisle, looking for an open spot, feeling uncertain. A truck bed wasn’t the same neutral ground that a cab with bucket seats in front was, and being packed together like sardines while they watched a movie sounded an awful lot like a date. Nevertheless, if all three of them were going to see the screen, they’d have to find a better arrangement than the two-in-front, one-in-back they were currently using. She’d just have to make sure that Boomer got in the middle.

  She found an area with several adjacent spots and stopped, pointing at the line of metal poles that cut across it like gates on a slalom course, their dented, thickly painted surfaces a testament to the perils of parking in the dark.

  “How am I supposed to back in there with those things in the way?”

  “Those ‘things’ are part of the charm. People like to come here and remember the way things were.”