Page 5

“Where’s this bar you inherited, anyway?” she asked as we were approaching Gurley Street.

“Not too far,” I said. “If you turn left on Gurley and then right on Montezuma, we’ll kind of go past it, except it opens onto the alley rather than facing out on the street.”

“Well, let’s do a drive-by,” Celeste suggested. “That’s not going too out of the way, is it?”

I didn’t think so, but I also had to admit I hadn’t gotten anywhere close to memorizing all of Prescott’s downtown area. “It should be okay.”

She nodded and hung a left on Gurley and then headed over to Montezuma. This was definitely the most touristy part of town, with the Palace Restaurant & Saloon on our right and the big old historic courthouse and its plaza to the left.

“Now what?” she asked as we came to the next intersection.

“Another right, and then a right down the alley,” I said. “I know the location seems kind of funky, but there’s parking in a structure right across the alley, so it’s actually kind of convenient.”

She slowed and made the turn, and then eased past Copper State Cellars. I’d done a quick brush-by on my way back to the house from the lawyer’s office, but since I wasn’t driving this time, I could take in the hanging sign above the door, a long oval emblazoned with the CSC logo, along with a shadowy, welcoming interior where I saw an antique bar against one wall and people moving inside.

Then we were past it and heading to the end of the alley, where we jogged left so we could keep going to the house.

“It looks nice,” Celeste said. Something about her tone sounded almost dubious, though, and I sent her a quick glance.

“But…?” I prompted, and she shrugged.

“But nothing,” she replied. “I mean, it looks like a great place, and since it faces the parking garage off the alley, it probably gets more foot traffic than I thought it would. It’s just…are you sure you’re ready to take it on?”

A question I’d already asked myself more than once. But I’d had a moment of clarity back there at the hospital, and it felt as if the universe was offering me a second chance.

I’d be stupid not to take it…wouldn’t I?

“Well, it’s not as if I’d have to handle everything myself,” I said, trying to focus on the practical. “The staff will be there. I’ll have a bar manager and a bartender and a couple of part-timers, so I should have plenty of people to show me the ropes.”

“Oh,” was all Celeste said, but I saw the way she relaxed a bit against the cracked leather seat back and knew my reply had relieved her a little. I got the feeling she’d thought I’d be in there trying to serve ten wines and fifteen beers and God knows how many meads I’d never heard of before without any backup, but that wasn’t the situation at all.

I found myself relaxing a bit, too…well, for all of four or five seconds before I bolted upright and blurted, “Chauncey!”

Celeste stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Who the hell is Chauncey?”

“The dog,” I replied, panic starting to flare along all my nerve endings. Man, I’d really screwed this one up big-time. “Hazel’s dog,” I went on. “I inherited him along with the house. He was sort of moping when I got there yesterday — totally understandable, since he recently lost his mama — so I just gave him a fresh bowl of water and some food. But he was hiding under the piano when I went out to the garden, and now he’s been stuck in the house this whole time without anyone to look out for him!”

Celeste’s brows had briefly creased with worry, but now she seemed to think the best thing to do was to reassure me as much as possible, because she said, “You gave him food and water, and it’s only been a day. Okay, maybe we’ll have to clean up some poop and pee, but it’s not like you were in the hospital for a week or something.”

All right, that was true enough, but guilt assailed me anyway. That poor dog had just lost his only family, and then I’d abandoned him, leaving him all alone in that big house.

“We’ll take care of it,” Celeste said, her tone a little firmer now, as if she wanted to make sure she nipped my shame spiral in the bud.

I only nodded and gulped in some air, even as I made a promise to myself that I’d make sure Chauncey got some awesome treats — maybe a steak, or whatever else he liked — to apologize for leaving him alone like that.

Celeste guided the Honda onto Park Avenue, and the house came into view, partially hidden by tall pines and a big tree I couldn’t identify, one that was just beginning to turn brilliant orange-red.

The house was three stories tall and painted a dark gray-green with burgundy and deep gold accents. The street had a gentle incline, so the front yard sloped a little, although I knew the extensive gardens to the back were flat. Stained-glass windows flanked the wide front door, and more stained glass glimmered in the turret to one side and in the tiny dormer that protruded from the third story. A swing hung on the big wraparound porch, just inviting you to settle yourself for the afternoon with a book and a cup of tea.

When I was a little girl and had come here for the first time, I’d thought it was the most amazing house in the world, like something out of a movie or a book, completely different from the stucco and tile roofs that surrounded me in Scottsdale. And the trees had felt like a miracle, too, their branches wide and strong, providing the kind of shade a kid used to cactus and ocotillo could only dream of.

It still had a storybook quality, or maybe that was simply because I still hadn’t quite wrapped my brain around the fact that this home was mine, that Hazel had entrusted it to my care. The grass out front had started to yellow, but it was impeccably groomed nonetheless. The contact information for a gardener had been included in the little packet Aunt Hazel’s lawyer had given me, and I supposed he was the reason for the yard’s current state of perfection.

We pulled into the driveway, and Celeste turned off the engine. Even as we were climbing out of the car, the front door of the house opened, and a woman — short and round, with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a ponytail — emerged with a long-haired Dachshund on a leash.

The dog caught sight of me where I stood next to Celeste’s Honda and went absolutely nuts, yipping and dancing at the end of his leash, tail going about a hundred miles an hour. We’d only met briefly the day before, but it sure looked as if he recognized me.

I hurried up the porch steps and knelt to pet the dog. He went on his hind legs and lapped my cheeks, showering me with little doggie kisses.