Meanwhile, the stay back vibe I was trying to project didn't seem to be working, since every time I went to the grocery store or Walmart, random people struck up conversations with me. I wished I could be a little more oblivious.
My brother and I were like the walking wounded, and anyone who dared to attempt a relationship with either of us was likely to get burned.
Summer Adkins was not really what I expected from our phone conversation. I'd anticipated meeting an uptight, older sourpuss. But Summer was my age, had pale violet hair, and wore flowy pants and a leather vest-shirt that looked straight out of the Sixties.
As she took me on a tour of the facility, she asked, "What kinds of dogs do you want? Big, small, fluffy?"
"As long as they're not aggressive, we'll take any kind." I slowed by a kennel with a tiny dog that was jumping to get my attention. "We'll probably need four to five dogs a day, depending on what you have."
She gestured around the kennel area with her numerous turquoise rings. "As you can see, we have lots to choose from. Take your pick. The only one with behavior issues is that old Husky mix over there."
I peered in at the Husky mix and he gave a low growl. It was sad that his distrust of people would inevitably hinder his chances of being adopted.
Summer must've read the look on my face. "Tough cases, like this one, do sometimes get adopted. It just takes a lot of rehab type work. I'm surprised he's not barking at you." She came over and dropped a dog treat in his kennel, which he snapped up. He sniffed at the fencing, but I knew better than to try to pet him.
I chose six dogs to come in for our grand opening the next day. Summer agreed to transport them over early in the morning, then I'd take them back at the end of the day with Bo's heavy duty truck.
Cute as the dogs were, none of them really appealed to me, which was unfortunate. I'd been eagerly anticipating finding a doggie companion to share Auntie A's home with, since her old golden retriever Jasper had died just a month after she had. Dogs had always clattered up Auntie A's wooden stairs or woofed at strangers in her kitchen. The place seemed empty without one.
After reiterating that cafe customers who wanted to adopt would have to go directly to the shelter to fill out paperwork, Summer asked if I had any questions.
"Not really," I said. "Are you from around here? I don't think I went to school with you, did I?"
"No, I'm from Pennsylvania," she said. "I actually grew up Mennonite, if you can believe it." She pointed to her colorful hair and clinked her rings together. "I'm not anymore."
She walked me out to my red car and I shook her hand. "I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow," I said. "This is going to be fun."
To my surprise, she smiled. "You know what, Macy Hatfield? I actually believe it is."
When Summer dropped the dogs off at five thirty in the morning, she was able to meet Kylie as well as Jimmy, an older high school bus driver who'd wanted a change of pace. Kylie and Jimmy were covering the early shift. Bo was planning to come in when the place opened at six and supervise.
Summer seemed genuinely impressed with our petting room. She helped me walk the dogs around their play area and outside run, then she bought a coffee and headed out before the doors opened.
And once the doors opened, customers began to steadily trickle in. Bo was thrilled when he arrived and found we were already on the second box of pastries from Charity, our older baker who was raising her four year old grandson on her own.
The dogs were lapping up the attention and behaving themselves fairly well—Summer seemed to have chosen them carefully. There was a golden retriever mix that reminded me of Jasper. He must've sensed I liked him, because he stayed right around me.
By lunchtime, all the dogs were getting antsy, so Bo and I took turns taking them out to their run. Two tiny dogs started nipping at each other, but I was able to distract them and get them inside unscathed.
A couple of women in fashionable heels sat on a bench in the doggie room. The younger blonde woman squealed when I brought the little dogs in and surprised me by sweeping up the Chihuahua mix and plopping him onto her expensive skirt. She began to vigorously scratch behind his ears, and instead of nipping at her, as I'd fully expected, he rolled over and seemed to pant with delight.
"Oh, look, Mary Anne," she gushed to her friend. "Isn't he just the sweetest little thing?"
I was curious as to how this obviously high maintenance woman had such a rapport with dogs. She began speaking and didn't make any attempt to modulate her voice for the enclosed space, so her every word was loud and clear.
"Let me tell you, I've found a gem." Apparently I'd walked into the middle of an ongoing conversation, since her next words made it clear she wasn't talking about the dog in her lap. "A golf instructor who can explain how to play without sounding condescending, can you imagine? The last club we belonged to, I swear the instructor did nothing but talk down to me, like I was brainless."
Mary Anne murmured, "Oh, Isabella. It happens all the time, doesn't it?" She blew air kisses to the little mutt she'd awkwardly positioned on her lap.
Isabella continued. "Yes! Now listen, you've got to visit this place—the Ivy Hill Spiritual Center for Healing, that's the one. I know the name sounds kooky, but the golf course is gorgeous. It's not as large as The Greenbrier of course, but I know you and Darren were looking for a more private place..."
Conversation trailed off as Kylie delivered coffee to the women, which was an event in and of itself. The posh socialites eyed Kylie's tight leather pants, leopard-print shirt, and combat boots. Then they looked down at their wide coffee cups, which bore delicate foam art representations of a peacock and a panda bear, respectively.
Isabella gushed over Kylie's work, and Mary Anne swore she'd never seen a more beautiful coffee, even in Italy. Kylie walked away with a wide smile on her ruby red lips.
Something good was happening at Barks & Beans—people from very different walks of life were bonding over coffee and dogs. A sense of pride washed over me to be a part of this business. There might be some good left in my life, after all.
As the women sipped their coffee, Isabella piped up again, and I realized she was still talking about her golf instructor. "His name is Gerard Fontaine, so be sure to ask for him. He's wonderful. Although he had an off day yesterday—he kept glancing around while I was practicing my swing. But I saw this tall woman walk by on the hill and that seemed to be what he was looking at. I think she's the masseuse there? Anyway, he got the strangest look on his face when he spotted her and really lost focus." She giggled, giving her pup's tummy a rub. "Of course, it wasn't hard for me to pull his attention back with my many charms."
Mary Anne laughed. I tossed a ball to the golden retriever mix like I wasn't listening, but now I was fully engaged in this conversation I wasn't even a part of.
"Although, come to think of it," Isabella continued, "Gerard was distracted the whole time I was there. When he took me to the director's office to pay, there was this weird tension between the two of them. I didn't know if it was attraction or dislike, you know?" She set the dog on the floor and took a long, thoughtful sip of coffee. "She had all this natural decor in the office—a bit gauche, you know? Like dried wood and seed pods and wooden vases."