Free Hair of the Dog by Laurien Berenson Page B

did.”
    â€œI wonder if the baby would have made a difference,” said Peg.
    â€œBaby?” Viv turned and stared. “What baby?”
    Terry grinned with delight. “I guess we won’t be keeping that cat in the bag any longer.”
    â€œAlicia is pregnant?”
    â€œApparently so,” Ron told his wife.
    â€œThree months. She told me about it yesterday. How did you find out?” I asked Terry.
    â€œWho had to find out? It was perfectly obvious to anyone who was paying attention. Poor Alicia, for a while she had morning sickness something awful. And if you’ve ever been in a Portosan at a show, you know nobody visits them unless they absolutely have to. When I saw Alicia heading that way two and three times in a morning, it was pretty easy to figure out.”
    â€œPortosans? Is that what you’re all standing over here talking about?” Austin Beamish’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried with authority. He strolled up to join the group. “And here I thought it would be something interesting.”
    â€œWe know the only thing that interests you,” said Ron. I wondered if I was imagining the edge to his voice. “And that’s who’s winning Best in Show this afternoon. Care to clue us in?”
    â€œI wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to speculate this early in the day.” Austin’s gaze swept around the group, settling on Peg, Viv, and me. “Ladies, may I say you’re all looking extremely lovely?”
    â€œI don’t see why not,” Peg responded lightly, but I could tell she was flattered.
    â€œNow, now,” said Douglas, coming to join us with Davey in tow. “Enough of that. Get your own girl, Austin.”
    â€œI would, but all the best ones seem to be taken.”
    â€œPish,” said Peg. “Surely you don’t expect us to believe you’re looking for sympathy?”
    â€œI doubt it,” Ron said dryly. “More likely he’s come over to size up the competition.”
    â€œYou’ve seen through me again.” Austin peered around the setup until he found Leo’s crate. “And how’s your boy today?”
    â€œVery well, thank you,” Crawford shifted his weight ever so slightly, blocking Austin’s view. “I trust Midas is the same?”
    â€œAlways. Luckily for me, that dog never seems to have a bad day.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear that.” Crawford was obviously unimpressed by Austin’s attempts to psych him out. “Tell Tom I hope I have the chance to give him a run for his money later. Terry? We’ve got Affenpinschers in twenty minutes.”
    â€œYes sir!” Snapping to attention, Terry cleared away the remains of their lunch.
    Ron and Viv wandered off; and Douglas and Austin continued a conversation about municipal bonds that they’d apparently started at Peg’s party. While Aunt Peg took Tory’s topknot down and spritzed her coat with a conditioner that would dilute the hair spray, I reached for my catalogue and looked up the group schedule. Non-Sporting was first, at two o’clock.
    â€œGo get some lunch,” said Peg. “And bring back plenty for me. I’m starving.”
    Was there ever a time when she wasn’t? Peg tends to argue the point, but I don’t think it’s any coincidence that in the year we’d been going to dog shows together, I’ve put on five pounds. As if that isn’t bad enough, but it seems to have attached itself to all the least becoming places. When Aunt Peg puts on an extra pound or two, I think it lands in her feet.
    With a selection consisting of greasy hamburgers or generic hot dogs, lunch was hardly a gastronomic treat. After we ate, I took Davey for a walk around the back parking lot, where the exhibitors park the vans and motor homes they use to transport their strings of dogs to the shows. Davey is into big rigs, so the knowledge that he’ll