Free Dog Eat Dog by Laurien Berenson Page A

crystal.”
    â€œGlass, you mean.” Monica sniffed. “That’s really all it is. Surely a club like Belle Haven could afford to offer trophies that are a cut above the norm.”
    â€œIn the past, maybe so. But trophy donations were down this year. Even in an affluent area like Fairfield County, people are cutting back.”
    â€œNot according to Bertie,” Penny Romano yelled out. “She pulled in more money than ever.”
    â€œYes, but ...” Joanne flipped through the papers in front of her, looking flustered. “In some ways, that’s precisely the problem. People allot a certain amount that they’re going to give, and they know that with advertising, they’ll see a return. There’s a page in the catalogue with their dog’s picture on it. On the other hand, a trophy donation is really just that ...”
    â€œWe see your point.” Louis sounded ready to move on. “I’m sure the trophies you’ve picked out are lovely.”
    â€œWell, I’m not,” Monica snapped. I wondered if this was her way of getting back at the membership for not making a bigger fuss over her presentation. “I made a suggestion and Joanne ignored it. Those trophies represent our club. Why should she get to choose what they look like?”
    â€œBecause that’s her job,” said Aunt Peg, speaking up firmly. “Heading the trophy committee is a great deal of work, I’ve done it myself. Joanne seems to have everything under control. Monica, if you’re dissatisfied, perhaps you’d like to volunteer to chair the trophy committee for next year’s show.”
    â€œMaybe I would. It’s not like doing the raffle is easy.”
    Abruptly, Lydia pushed back her chair and stood. She wasn’t a tall woman, but she had presence to spare. Even though this wasn’t her meeting, it didn’t take long before she had everyone’s attention.
    â€œNone of these jobs are easy,” she said. “Running a dog show takes a great deal of work and this club is very fortunate in the number of dedicated members it has who are willing to volunteer their time and energy to make it happen.”
    Lydia moved her gaze slowly around the room, until each person felt that his or her own contribution had been recognized. It was a masterful stroke of gamesmanship and I could see why she’d been elected president. With this group, there was probably a lot of call for her peace making skills.
    â€œNow then, Louis,” she said, ceding the floor gracefully to the show chairman, “is there anything else you wanted to cover?”
    â€œNo, I think that about does it.” His meerschaum pipe was already out, sitting on the table beside his empty coffee cup. “From what I’ve heard here tonight, I think this year’s show is going to be our best ever. Keep up the good work, and we’ll see you all in three weeks at the regular monthly meeting.”
    Class dismissed. Chairs scraped back; belongings were gathered. This time, I’d hung my coat over the back of my seat. Aunt Peg had done the same, so we were near the front of the group as we emerged from the restaurant. The parking lot seemed colder and darker than it had been the week before. Looking up, I saw that two of the overhead spotlights were out.
    I blew out a breath in a long puff of steam and dug in my pocket for gloves. “Just when you think spring might finally be coming, Mother Nature turns around and takes you back to square one.”
    â€œOh pish,” said Aunt Peg. “A little cold air is good for you, especially after all that stuffiness inside.”
    â€œThe room?” I inquired archly. “Or the people?”
    Before she could answer, I heard a van door slide open and Monica’s Beagles began to howl. It didn’t matter that I knew what they were—the eerie sound coming out of the quiet night still sent a shiver slipping down my