Read Online Live and Let Growl by Laurien Berenson - Free Book Online Page B

You were supposed to call me. I was going to come and help.”
    â€œAbout that,” said Bertie.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI don’t actually need your help.”
    â€œOf course you do. You said you did. You’re pregnant, remember?”
    â€œOh please.” Bertie laughed. “As if I could forget.”
    â€œPrecisely!” I announced with satisfaction.
    â€œMel, I’ve been managing this business all by myself for years.”
    â€œI know that.”
    â€œIncluding during my last pregnancy,” she pointed out.
    When I’m pregnant, all I want to do is sleep. And wear stretchy clothes and no makeup. Not Bertie. As I recalled, she’d sailed through her previous pregnancy with all the aplomb of Helen racing triumphantly across the Aegean Sea to Troy.
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œI’m pregnant, not incapacitated.”
    To add insult to injury, I could hear noises in the background. It sounded as though Bertie was stacking crates while we talked. Me? All I was doing was sitting on a seat and holding a dog.
    â€œIt’s a perfectly normal condition,” she added. “Not only that, but it’s barely twelve weeks. I’m hardly pregnant at all.”
    â€œThat’s not funny,” I said. “If you don’t need my help, what am I doing in Kentucky?”
    â€œEnjoying your vacation? Taking a break? Having a good time? All of the above?”
    True enough. Even so, I refused to be mollified.
    â€œYou set me up,” I said.
    â€œActually Sam did that. And Peg. It was their idea. My pregnancy was just a convenient excuse.”
    â€œWonderful,” I muttered.
    â€œSo we’re good, right?” asked Bertie. “I’ll be done here soon. See you back at the hotel!”
    The connection ended. I tucked the phone back in my pocket. Then I sat and stared at the back of Aunt Peg’s head. She didn’t turn around. My aunt, who could probably navigate New York City traffic and knit an argyle sweater at the same time, studiously kept her eyes on the road ahead.
    â€œI feel manipulated,” I said.
    I saw Aunt Peg’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “We wouldn’t do it if you didn’t make it so easy,” she told me.
    * * *
    Bertie was right about pregnancy not slowing her down. With a full string of dogs to feed and exercise before the show started, she was up and out of the hotel room at sunrise the next morning. Aunt Peg would be judging half the breeds in the Non-Sporting Group on this first day of the dog show cluster, but since her duties didn’t begin until nine A.M. , she, Faith, and I followed along at a more reasonable hour.
    â€œI have a surprise for you,” Aunt Peg said as we made the short drive over to the Expo Center.
    Of course she did. I should have seen the announcement coming. It was how most of my days started when I was with Aunt Peg.
    â€œAfter we left last night, I called Miss Ellie to tell her about our visit to Six Oaks.”
    â€œThat’s hardly a surprise.”
    Aunt Peg slanted me a look. “Shush and let me talk. After Miss Ellie and I discussed Lucky Luna, we started talking about Poodles.”
    Again, I thought, not a surprise.
    â€œIt turns out that she hasn’t been to a dog show in more than a dozen years.”
    Now that was unexpected.
    â€œHow very odd,” I said. “Especially for someone who was once so involved in the sport. When Miss Ellie stopped breeding Standard Poodles, did she apply for a judge’s license?”
    That was the direction many former exhibitors chose when they were ready to cut back on breeding or handling. It was an excellent way to put years of hard-won knowledge to good use. It was also a means of giving back to the sport which was a lifelong passion for many of its participants.
    â€œNot that I’m aware of,” Aunt Peg replied. Which basically meant no.
    â€œHow come?”
    She paused at the kiosk,