Page 107 of Save the Date
Bert opened the drawer on his side of the worktable. He picked up the backpack he’d slung over his chair and tossed in a paperback book, his favorite scissors, and a coffee mug. Then he reached up to the shelf behind the table, took his iPod station and iPod, and threw them into the bag with the rest of his belongings.
“I’m not giving you a reference for another job,” Cara called, just as he reached the shop door.
“I don’t need one.” He slammed the door. Hard.
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Poppy stood at the front window, watching the squirrel in the tree outside, and waiting, Cara felt sure, for her friend Bert to change his mind and come back.
“He’s gone,” Cara said, getting up to scratch the dog’s ears and toss her a conciliatory puppy treat. “Anyway, he’s just a man. They come and they go, girl, and when one decides to leave, all you can do is get out of the way.”
Poppy gave her a baleful look, then concentrated on chewing her treat. In the meantime, a battered white pickup truck pulled up to the curb outside, parking in the loading zone. A youngish man in paint-spattered overalls and a green John Deere tractor cap got out of the truck and stood on the sidewalk. He pulled a smart phone from the bib of his overalls, stepped backward and began taking photos. He trotted across the street and snapped more photos as Cara stood, watching.
The man recrossed and walked past the shop window and out of her line of sight. Cara opened the door and peered out, just in time to see him rounding the corner and turning south on Whitaker.
“Here, Poppy!” Cara locked the front door and headed for the rear of the shop and the door into the courtyard. Poppy bounded out into the garden and gave a short, surprised yelp as the stranger stepped into the garden through the door from the lane.
“Hey!” Cara called, her voice sharp. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Poppy barked loudly, and lunged forward, but Cara caught her by her collar.
“Uh, the landlord sent me over.” Seeing him up close, she could see he was probably in his mid-twenties, with brown hair sticking out from the back of his cap, and a string of tattoos on both forearms. He took a half step backward.
“Which landlord?”
He looked confused. “The one who owns this building, I guess. Wanted me to give him some estimates for doing all the work needs doing.”
“Him? The last I heard, Sylvia Bradley still owns this building. Was she the one who called you?”
“Look, ma’am, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just doing my job. The guy called me, gave me this address, said he was looking to restore an old building on West Jones Street.”
Cara felt her face go hot with anger. “You’re talking about Cullen Kane?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he give you the key to get through that gate just now?”
“Sure.”
“You can’t just come in here like this. I live here. This is my business. My rent is paid up until the end of the month.”
“Hey, all I know is, the guy said it’s okay. He has keys to the place, he sent me over to look around. I’m not gonna bother you or nothin’.…”
He took a step toward Cara, and Poppy let out a deep-throated warning growl, the likes of which Cara had never heard before from the people-loving puppy. She grasped the collar tighter. Her unwanted visitor looked uneasily around, as though he might need a weapon to fend off this fluffy white killer guard dog.
“What’s your name?” Cara asked.
“Ricky Ucinski.”
“Ricky, no offense, but I’m not letting you in my house.”
“Geez,” he said. “What do I tell Mr. Kane?”
“Tell him the crazy woman who lives here set her dog on you when you unlocked the back gate. And tell him if he sends any more contractors over here again, I’ll do the same thing to them.”
Ricky Ucinski looked distinctly uncomfortable with this message. “You wouldn’t really set that dog on me, would you?”
Poppy growled again, as if on cue.
