Bride & Groom

along, you didn’t trust him.”
    “In dogs we trust,” he said. “And in each other. Holly, I love you. And it isn’t as if you knew for sure it was Artie.”
    After Steve left for work, I tried to distract myself by bathing and grooming Kimi so she’d look her best at a signing that Mac McCloud and I were doing at a bookstore that evening. Both dogs, of course, would’ve made a more spectacular PR statement than either dog could achieve alone, but any two malamutes, even two as well trained as mine, might go so far as to make a spectacle of themselves by raiding any food the bookstore offered or by unintentionally frightening customers who had the misfortune not to love dogs: I did not intend to handle both Rowdy and Kimi while I simultaneously signed books. Consequently, my plan was to let Rowdy and Kimi share the role of PR dog by taking turns. Tonight was to be Kimi’s turn.
    The weather was warm enough to allow me to cut down on housework by washing and grooming her outside. My plumber, Ron, had rigged an outdoor faucet that sent warm water through the hose, and I moved a grooming table and my powerful dryer into the yard. Kimi didn’t share Rowdy’s conviction, common among malamutes, that a bath was a dangerous prelude to death from hypothermia. She cooperated as I shampooed and rinsed her, and stood happily on the grooming table as I blew her dry and brushed her out. Ordinarily, I enjoy being outdoors, and with a dog who likes being groomed, I let the repetitive motion of brushing and the familiar feel of the dog’s body draw me into a meditative trance. Today, the weather interfered. Despite the previous day’s rain, the sky had a bloated, jaundiced look, as if the atmosphere suffered from hepatitis, and the air was thick and polluted. My thoughts, too, felt ugly, and my bewilderment kept me from losing myself in my simple love for Kimi and my pleasure in taking care of her. When I’d finished, Kimi looked as beautiful as a malamute can look when she’s shed most of her old coat and is waiting for the new one to come in. The bookstore, however, wasn’t a show ring. A lot of people would probably admire my “husky” or ask whether Kimi was part wolf. Furthermore, no one but me would notice how shiny and perfect she was. But especially now, it felt important to have acted on my love for Kimi and my pride in her by seeing to it that in this jaundiced and corrupt world, one creature was clean and sweet.
    When Kimi and I were back inside, I continued to sense the new and unwelcome barrier that separated me from Rita. Although my main concern was for Rita, it also irked me to realize that I was now without my principal confidante and advisor; had my concerns been about anyone but Rita, I’d have consulted her. I thought about discussing the matter] with my stepmother, but realized that she’d immediately guess who it was I was talking about; to tell Gabrielle felt like a betrayal. As to Steve, we’d already talked everything over. Besides, I wanted to talk to a woman, preferably a wise one.
    Consequently, I called Althea Battlefield, to whom I intended to give a somewhat general account, with names deleted and graphic details expurgated. Althea was a strange choice in that she was one of the most rational people I’d ever known, the opposite of the sort of emotion-driven earth-mother type to whom I could pour out my rage and confusion. She was, however, ethics incarnate. What’s more, she was generous about sharing her wonderful intelligence and always interested in dilemmas of the human condition. Unfortunately, when I phoned, I reached her sister, Ceci, who informed me that Althea was asleep and then went on in her usual garrulous fashion to question me about my wedding plans and talk about Nina Kerkel, the ex-daughter-in-law of her friend Greta.
    “Naturally,” Ceci said, “I had to tell Greta that that Nina had died, because for all we know, Hal, that’s Greta’s son, the one who was married to this Nina, might not have heard, and after all, they were married once and even though that Nina was anything but my idea of a wife, or Greta’s, for that matter, she was Hal’s... well, probably not his idea of a wife, either, but he did marry her, and the wedding was very nice, although that Nina was ungrateful for everything Greta did. Have you thought about a champagne fountain?”
    “A champagne fountain?”
    “I thought of it because Greta offered to have one, and that Nina did