* **
The next morning, Bridget has enlisted me for an early hot girl walk, so I’ve got Captain with us and we’re reviewing my recon on all the spaces when we pass the old dog daycare—and I stop in my tracks.
The brown paper’s down. The lights are on. And there’s a brand-new name painted on the windows in bright-blue letters:Dog Tails.
Cute.
“When did this happen?” I ask, since Bridget knows everything about downtown.
“I’m going to have to fire myself as town gossip. This is a major fail in my Darling Springs intel,” she says, holding out her hands in a classic no idea gesture.
With Captain’s leash in one hand, I cup my hands around my face and peer inside—and holy shit—that’s Zuri. The one Mom was going to talk to, a statuesque woman with long braids twisted in a bun on top of her head and tattoos of vines snaking down the rich, deep brown skin on her toned arms, courtesy of Delilah’s artistry. She’s writing something on the chalkboard behind the counter—Group Play, I think. It’s listed after the prices of various baths—some with lavender shampoo, no doubt harvested from Ripley’s lavender farm. The place looks airy and light, a far cry from the dark and, honestly, dingy vibe the prior orange-and-brown space had.
I rap on the locked door.
Zuri glances up, and when she sees me, her whole face lights up. She hustles over and unlocks it. “Chloe! Your mom and I were just talking about you.”
“I swear I didn’t drive my car into her mailbox when I was seventeen—it was Bridget,” I say, grabbing Bridget’s arm.
Bridget shoots me a look. “That one was all you, honey.”
I bring my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
Zuri winks my way. “I still haven’t told your mom it was really you and not some random stranger.”
“Bless you for keeping my secret and Bridget’s,” I say.
“Again, not me,” Bridget adds.
“Of course, of course,” I say, then peer behind Zuri at the low walls and play zones—little gated areas with spit-shined concrete flooring, fluffy dog beds, and toy bins. It’s perfect. And so much brighter and more inviting than it was before. Captain lifts his snout, checking it out too. “I thought this place was closing for good.”
“It was,” she says, reaching down and stroking my pup’s head. “But it’s being reopened as a franchise. Oops. Secret’s out.”
“It sounds like this is a good change, right?”
“Well, they kept me, so it must be,” she says, grinning. She gestures to the hallway past the play area. “Plus, all the grooming and the primping stations have been upgraded. It’s seriously fancy now. For the discerning dog.”
I laugh. “And the bougie owners.”
“We love them,” Zuri says.
I glance around again—and wouldn’t you know it? There’s a small nook right near the front desk that would be perfect for training sessions. My brain spins forward, and I nearly trip over the possibilities. I point to it. “Zuri…any chance I could lease that space?”
“As a matter of fact, the owner asked me to handle that. I bet they’ll be thrilled it’s taken care of so quickly,” she says, then lowers her voice. “And between you, me, and the lamppost, it’s not as if there are a lot of businesses wecanlease it to.”
We work out the details for a month-to-month rental. Flexible. Affordable. Without a ton of conditions. Just what I need. She shoots me over the lease and after a quick review, I sign it digitally.
As I’m getting ready to leave, the door swings open in a dramatic flurry, and in comes Mayor Wong, fedora in hand, tie slightly crooked, gaze lasered in on Zuri.
“Ms. May!” he says, breathless. “I desperately need your help. The production company just greenlit the Webflix show, and guess what I negotiated?”
Zuri sets her finger on her chin, like she’s deep in thought. “A new supply of hats? Some fresh ties? The recipe for those delicious chocolate chip cookies from The Sweet Spot?”
He laughs, then wags a finger at her. “Ms. May, you’re something else. But it wasn’t any of those things,” the overly earnest hometown mayor says. He was born and raised here, and will proudly tell you he’s first generation, since his parents moved here from Beijing to teach at the local university.
“Was it composting bins for the whole town?” I ask, taking my best shot since Linus ran on a platform of recycling programs.
He gives me a playful smile. “I already did that. First month on the job,” he says proudly.
