Bride & Groom

literary novelists can be platitudinously conventional, Judith said, “Married! I hope you’ll be very happy. And of course I know your beautiful dogs.” As she reached into the pocket of her pale gray jacket, I noticed that despite her leanness, she had the muscular arms and hands of someone who lives with big dogs. Producing two dog cookies, she said, “May I? The recipe is from your book.”
    I smiled. “In that case, yes. I’m flattered.”
    “You write clearly. And it’s more about training with food than about cooking.”
    “My publisher hoped that no one would notice.”
    “You can’t fool another writer.” Glancing toward the back of the store, she said, “The manager’s setting things up. Mac’s around somewhere. We have Uli with us.”
    “Mac told me never to show up at a signing without a dog.”
    “I wish I had your excuse. Signings can be lonely events. Not that this one will be.”
    As if to prove Judith right, what felt like a delegation from the Cambridge Dog Training Club entered the store: Ron Coughlin, Diane D’Amato, Ray and Lynne Metcalf, and a few other members. Steve and I trained with the club. We’d served on the board and helped out at the club’s obedience trials. As I was thanking people for coming, my cousin Leah arrived with Lieutenant Kevin Dennehy of the Cambridge Police. With her masses of red-gold curls and her voluptuousness, Leah was wildly eye-catching, but not to the point of requiring a police escort. Kevin was here in his personal capacity as my next-door neighbor and friend. His hair was even redder than Leah’s. Especially because of his monumental build, they looked spectacular together, but certainly weren’t a couple. Leah was an undergraduate at that ivy-choked institution down the street from my house, whereas Kevin was in his mid-thirties and was attracted to women in his own age group. His girlfriend, Jennifer Pasquarelli, was his junior, but not by enough years to make it biologically possible for him to have fathered her.
    “Jennifer’s sorry she couldn’t make it,” Kevin said over the woo-woo ing of my dogs. “And my mother—”
    Mrs. Dennehy was a Seventh-Day Adventist. This was her sabbath. “Of course,” I said. “Please don’t—”
    Leah interrupted me. “Aren’t you supposed to be signing books? What are you doing hanging around here like a regular customer?”
    I handed her Rowdy’s leash. “Make yourself useful. If there’s food anywhere, don’t let him steal it.” Before she could grumble that she already knew that, I lowered my voice and said, “And don’t let Kevin buy my book. I have a copy for him at home, and it feels wrong to ask my friends to spend money to be here. But you do need to buy Mac’s book. Have him sign it for you. I’ll reimburse you.”
    “I don’t want it. All it says is to buy a crate and lock your dog in it forever. If he were writing about children, he’d tell you to forget school and lock them all in jail.”
    “Leah, what I’m telling you,” I whispered, “is, buy the book! We’ll discuss this later. And if you have any comments to make about Mac’s book or, for that matter, anyone else’s, do not make them here.”
    Leah’s voice carries. Fortunately, all she said was, "Pride and Prejudice. I loved it.”
    “Anyone living. ”
    Steve extricated me from the discussion with Leah by saying, “Holly, you’re wanted at the back of the store.” With Kimi on leash, he headed there, and the rest of us followed.
    “Have you ever noticed that you’re a natural leader?” I asked Steve. “People trail after you. Animals love you. It’s revolting. I’m jealous.”
    Ignoring my remarks, Steve said, “They’ve done you proud.”
    One of two banquet-sized, cloth-covered tables held bottles of mineral water and white wine, disposable wineglasses, platters of cheese and crackers, a bowl of strawberries, paper plates and napkins, plastic forks, and a sheet cake with white icing that read, in bright pink, CONGRATULATIONS HOLLY AND MAC. The words floated above the head of a perky-iooking pink dog. Attractively arrayed on the second long table were a respectable number of copies of 101 Ways to Cook Liver, a great many copies of Mac’s previous book, and so many copies of Ask Dr. Mac that The Wordsmythe’s order alone had probably required Mac’s publisher to do a second printing. Mac himself sat on a folding chair behind the table. He looked exactly the way he did in the poster in