It took me a moment, but then I sat up straighter, seeing the first silver lining of that morning. “The scavenger hunt?”
“The scavenger hunt!” Palmer agreed, banging her palm down on the table and setting the plates rattling. For the past five years Palmer had organized a scavenger hunt, usually taking place in August, when she felt things needed to be spiced up a little. Scavenger hunts were an Alden family tradition, and as soon as we’d all become friends, Palmer had started organizing her own. I’d missed last year’s, when I’d been stuck in bed with the stomach flu, getting photo updates so I could see just how much fun everyone was having. The year before I’d lost by a single point, something that still irritated me whenever I thought about it.
“I’m sorry, are you referring to my greatest victory?” Tom asked with a grin. “How many points did I win by last summer?”
“Nineteen,” Toby and Bri said in unison.
“And I’ve already started working on this year’s list,” Palmer said, mostly to me. “It’s going to be great.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. It wasn’t like it was making up for missing my summer program, but it was something, at least. “When?” I attributed my loss two years ago to the fact that I’d spent far too long trying to get the impossible, high-points items, rather than just getting more of the easier, low-points ones. I wondered if I still had the list somewhere, so that I could use it to start refining my strategy.
“Just plan on August for the moment,” Palmer said, smiling down the table at Tom. “We have to look at the performance schedule.”
“Oh, right,” I said, nodding, feeling my stomach sink. “The play.” I realized as I looked around that all my friends’ plans were set already, and had been for weeks now. Bri, our cinephile, was working at the Palace Movie Theater. Toby was volunteer docent-ing at the Pearce, the art museum in town—which, I now realized, explained Bri’s Monet reference. Tom was acting in the community-theater play, and Palmer was stage-managing it.
“So everyone else has a plan,” I said, looking around, realizing that for the first time I could remember, I was the one at loose ends, with no solution for this in sight.
“You’ll find something,” Palmer said confidently to me as she took a sip of her Coke. “It’ll all work out in the end.” This was Classic Palmer—she was hardwired for optimism and seemed absolutely incapable of not seeing the bright side. All the Aldens were like that. They didn’t dwell; they looked for solutions, made some snacks, and kept moving forward.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up straight, figuring that maybe I could learn something from her. “I have to fix this.” I needed some sort of plan. I didn’t even care if it was a good plan right now. Just so long as it was something concrete. “I have to do something. I can’t just hang out all summer.”
“We always need people to help build sets,” Tom interjected from the end of the table. “I mean, it doesn’t pay or anything. And some prior set-building experience is preferred. But I could put a good word in for you.”
“And all the really good internships are gone,” I continued, not letting myself get distracted by this. “Same thing with summer programs and volunteering slots.”
“Do we need to be here for this?” Toby whispered to Bri.
“So I need to do something else,” I said, my fingers itching for a pen so I could start brainstorming. “Something that might not look as good per se, but something I could spin if I needed to . . .”
“I don’t think we do need to be here for this,” Bri whispered back, and Toby shook her head.
“Told you.”
“I need . . .” I looked around the diner, like it might provide some answers for me, and blinked when I saw that maybe it had. There was a bulletin board by the door that I’d never paid much attention to, covered in business cards, missing-pet posters . . . and help-wanted flyers. “Bri,” I said, nudging her. “I need to get out.”
“Why?” she asked, even as she slid out so I could get past her.
“Can I finish the bacon?” Tom called as I practically ran up to the bulletin board and started scanning it. There was nothing hugely promising right away, but there were a few that looked like possibilities. I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of the flyers. Looking for summer tutor—must be proficient in French; COMPUTER HELP REQUIRED WILL PAY $$; Mother’s helper needed, 30hrs/week. None of them would be perfect—and I’d stopped taking French in eighth grade—but it was something. I’d started to put my phone away when my eye landed on one all the way in the corner. NEED A SUMMER JOB? the top of it read in twenty-four-point type. I leaned a little closer. Great Pay! Flexible Hours! Work Experience that will look great on any application or résumé!! Call or e-mail SOON! There was a phone number and an e-mail address listed beneath it.
I read it over again, wondering if I’d missed what this job actually was. But there was no explanation, which actually made me a little wary. It reminded me of that time Palmer’s sister Megan was home from college on Christmas break and took what she thought was a job selling knives that actually turned out to be part of an elaborate pyramid scheme.
“Find anything?” Bri asked, and I turned my head to see she was leaning over my shoulder, looking at the bulletin board as well. I nodded, then tapped the vague one in the corner.
Bri read the ad, then frowned. “But what is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, pulling out my phone and taking a picture of it as well. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter FOUR
“I don’t like this,” Toby said through my phone as I parked in front of Flask’s Coffee and cut my engine.
“Me neither,” said Bri. It was two days later, and I was on a conference call with all of them. But since Palmer was stage-managing, she had to pretend she was paying attention to the play. She had one of her earbuds in, hidden by her hair, and could only say “Mmm-hmm” occasionally.
“Mmm-hmm,” Palmer said, somehow managing to convey great disapproval in two syllables.
“Guys,” I said, glancing through my windshield to the coffee shop. “There’s nothing else. This is my best shot.”
“I’m pretty sure this is how kidnapping movies begin,” said Toby. “And there’s that scene where the girl is going to meet the person who’s going to kidnap her and her friends are like ‘No, don’t do it,’ but she does it anyway.”
“Well, otherwise there would be no movie,” Bri pointed out. “But Toby is actually making a point.”
“What do you mean actually?” Toby asked, sounding offended.
“I don’t like that you don’t know what this job is,” Bri said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Palmer agreed.
I let out a breath as I smoothed down my dress. I didn’t love it either, but I really was out of options. In the two days since I’d found out I wouldn’t be attending the Young Scholars Program, I had tried everything I could to line up something for the summer. I’d been practically laughed out of the career office at school when I’d explained I was looking for something for this summer. None of my other leads had panned out—the parents of the kid looking for a tutor realized pretty quickly that my French wasn’t up to par; I could handle my own computer, but couldn’t code or work within multiple operating systems; and when I’d called about it, the mother’s helper gig had already been filled—which I was actually fine with, since I didn’t love little kids. Finally, I’d called the vaguely worded listing, and the girl who’d answered—her name was Maya—had seemed thrilled to get my call and only too happy to meet whenever was convenient for me, causing my pyramid-knife-scheme sensors to move to high alert. After we’d agreed to meet at Flask’s (my favorite coffee shop and the place where I acquired my daily iced latte) and settled on the time, she’d said good-bye before I could find out what, exactly, this job was.
“Look,” I said, after pulling the phone away from my ear for a moment to check the time. “We’re meeting at a coffee shop. I’ll call as soon as
it’s over. It’ll be fine.”
“Hmm,” Palmer said.
“I don’t know,” Toby sighed.
“Aren’t you at work?” I asked her. “How are you able to spend this much time lecturing me?”
“I’m just being a caring friend,” Toby said, her voice rising, “and—” There was a pause, and when Toby came back she was speaking much lower. “Actually, gotta go. Call me later. Don’t get kidnapped.”
“Me too,” Palmer whispered. “Call me.”
“Bri?” I asked, after they’d both hung up.
“Still here.”
“You don’t think I have anything to worry about, do you?”
“Nah,” Bri said easily. “Putting a flyer up at the diner is a super-inefficient way to go about kidnapping someone.”
“Thanks, B. I’ll call you later.” Bri said good-bye, and I hung up and took a breath before carefully stepping out of the car. I was wearing one of my best dresses—blue, with a tight-fitting bodice and slightly flared skirt—along with heels and light, tasteful makeup. I’d printed out a copy of my résumé on thick paper stock and was carrying it in a folder so it wouldn’t get bent on my way inside.
I stepped inside and looked around. The place was half-filled, mostly with people typing on laptops and groups of moms with strollers. There was a girl who looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but my eyes skipped over her until I realized she was smiling big at me and waving. “Andie?”
I nodded, my hopes plummeting as I made my way over to her table. “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand, feeling myself inwardly groan as she stood up to shake my hand. Her blond hair had pink tips, and she was dressed casually—jean shorts, tank top, sneakers. Even though it was the very beginning of summer, she was already tan, with tattoos that peeked out from under her tank top straps and twisted up her ankles like vines.
“I’m Maya,” she said, smiling at me, revealing slightly crooked teeth. If she thought anything about the fact that I was either seriously overdressed or she was underdressed, it didn’t show. She took a seat, and I sat across from her, trying to hide the disappointment on my face as I took my résumé out of the folder and slid it across the table to her.
She looked at it while she took a sip of her blended drink, the kind with whipped cream and sprinkles that always seemed more like milk shakes to me than anything else. (I kept this opinion to myself around Palmer, though, who was addicted to the mint java chip flavor.) While she was reading it over, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my friends. Normally, I never would have done this during an interview, but it was clear to me already this wasn’t an interview that was going to matter.
ME
All fine. Nothing to worry about.
“This looks great!” Maya said, her eyes scanning down my résumé as I dropped my phone back in my bag. She looked up at me and her smile faltered, and she glanced back down at the paper for a second. “Walker . . . ,” she said, like she was trying to place my last name. “Didn’t I . . . ?”
“My dad’s a congressman,” I said easily, automatically. “Maybe that’s where you . . .” But a moment later it hit me that maybe her recognizing my name was not in the normal way people sometimes did. That this probably had more to do with my dad’s scandal having taken over the news a few days ago. “Um,” I said, realizing I wasn’t sure how to handle this. “I . . .”
“Well,” Maya said, giving me a smile that let me know she probably had seen my dad on TV but wasn’t going to press the issue. “You’ve got a lot of awesome experience here. I’m surprised you’re still looking for a job, actually.”
“Yes,” I started, then hesitated. “My, uh, summer plans changed at the last minute. So I’m at a bit of a loose end.” As soon as I spoke these words, I felt myself cringe. I didn’t even know what this job was, let alone if I wanted it, but I knew that you never made yourself seem too available.
“Oh, man, I know all about that,” Maya said, not seeming to realize that I’d violated a core interview technique. “Like, I only put up the flyers when one of my best employees quit because she decided to move to Seattle.” She took a long drink, then shook her head. “I think she’ll be back, though. Do you know how much it rains there?”
“So about the job,” I said, trying to steer us back to the reason we were both sitting there, which I was pretty certain was not to discuss weather in the Pacific Northwest.
“Right!” Maya said, sitting up straighter. “Of course. So I run a dog-walking and pet-sitting operation I started two years ago. It’s primarily me and my fiancé and one other employee, along with some people who fill in on an occasional basis.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding, feeling myself start to deflate. Not only did I not have any experience with animals, but I couldn’t imagine a single college being impressed that I’d walked dogs all summer.
“It’s hard work,” Maya said, her tone serious. “And it’s a lot of responsibility. People are entrusting their pets—members of their family—to our care. Do you have experience with animals?”
“Yes. In fact, a few days ago, I was . . . with a dog.” A second too late, I realized what I was doing. I didn’t even want this job, so why was I trying to impress her? “But—”
“As long as you like animals and are good with them, everything else can be learned,” she said, giving me another big smile. “Just like anything in life.” She looked down at her watch, then back up at me. “I’m actually going to pick up some dogs for a walk now. Want to come along? You can see if the job’s for you.”
I hesitated. This was not the job for me. It was even a step below what I’d been thinking I might have to sink to, which was seeing if Flask was hiring baristas. This would be outside, with no air-conditioning, and I had a feeling it would involve dealing with a lot of crap, both literal and figurative. And what was worse, I would have nothing to show for it when the summer was over. Also, I was wearing one of my best dresses and four-inch heels. I was supposed to walk a dog in this?
“Unless you have somewhere to be?” Maya asked, raising an eyebrow.
And maybe that’s what did it. The fact that I had nowhere to be, no plans, no structure to my summer whatsoever. Maybe it was that even though I knew, rationally, I didn’t want this job, there was still a part of me that wanted to get it. For whatever reason, I found myself sitting up straight and looking her right in the eye. “I’m totally free,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
• • •
“All right!” Maya said cheerfully as she put her SUV in park and smiled at me. “You ready?”
“Um,” I said, with difficulty. There was a very large and fluffy dog on my lap. He had clambered into the front seat as soon as we’d picked him up, and he’d sat there the whole ride, shaking slightly, while I’d tried my best to see around him. He had to weigh at least seventy-five pounds, and at first Maya had tried to get him to move to the back, saying apologetically, “I think he’s just going to keep coming up, though. Jasper gets scared in cars, don’t you, buddy?” Jasper had whimpered then, like he could understand her, and I’d tentatively patted his fluffy black fur, feeling him trembling under my hands.
It wasn’t like I’d had a ton of time to focus on the fact that I was slowly losing feeling in my legs, either, because there were three other dogs in the back. We’d driven all over Stanwich picking them up, Maya keeping up a cheerful running commentary as we drove.
“So I have all the keys color-coded,” she said, holding up an enormous key ring, the top of each key painted a bright metallic color. “And we keep a log of all the pets—their habits, things to watch out for. It gets a little more complicated when it’s pet sitting, but that’s a different conversation. Also, sometimes we take groups out for longer hikes, or to the dog beach, but you wouldn’t be doing that right away, so don’t worry.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, trying my best to pay attention. But I was distracted by the fact that there were three dogs in the backseat, all of whom seemed to be starin
g at me. What was she supposed to do if one of them started freaking out or something? Wasn’t this a huge driving distraction? “So you normally do this on your own—just you in the car with four dogs?”
“Oh no,” she said easily, and I felt myself relax. “Usually it’s more like five or six.”
“What?” I asked, as Maya cut the engine and hopped out of the front door. Jasper seemed to realize this meant he no longer needed to be afraid, and he lumbered over me to climb into the back. I looked down at my lap and saw it was covered with dog hair and what looked suspiciously like drool. I shook my head, then got out of the car, brushing off my dress.
“Sometimes dogs get walked alone,” Maya said. “Dogs that don’t play well with others—and sometimes it’s down to scheduling. But Dave—that’s my fiancé—and I have a philosophy that dogs are social animals. They’re happiest when they’re with friends. Just like us.”
“Okay,” I said, even as I was pretty sure this was the opposite of okay. One dog seemed challenging enough. But six? I looked around and realized where I was—what I’d missed with my visibility blocked by Jasper. I was right back where I’d been two days ago, just a few streets over from where Dr. Rizzoli lived. I followed Maya around to the other side of the car, wobbling on my heels.
“Here,” Maya said, handing me an armful of leashes. “I usually take them off when we drive, because it’s a choking hazard if they get tangled. But they tend to rush the door and get really excited when they know we’re going on a walk, so you have to be careful and make sure they don’t go running when you open it.”
I nodded, and even as I took the leashes, I was realizing that I’d let this go way too far. My competitive instinct had kicked in, but this was getting ridiculous. Was there a way to turn this around at this point without being rude? I set about untangling the leashes, trying to work through the possibilities. After a moment I concluded that there was really no way to tell her that she needed to get back in the car, drive me back to the coffee shop, and probably really confuse the dogs as a result. I needed to just get through this, and then I could walk away and never have to tell anyone that I got dressed up to try to be a dog walker. I had a feeling Toby would never let me hear the end of it if she found out.