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Michael, on the settee. “Where’s Cheri?”
    Michael shrugged. “She was gone when we got here.”
    Charlotte finally settled in the chair Ivan had used. Two spots of pink burned in her cheeks. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Lila jumped on her lap, and she stroked the dog. “Bob is an old friend of the family’s. He and Thomas want to start a dog-food business together, and they want me to fund it. Len Pendergast is a relative of mine by marriage, so he may have filled you in a little.”
    “He was very discreet,” Angus said smoothly.
    Charlotte sighed. “Thomas wasn’t always like this, but his family is very proud and … He didn’t have very many challenges growing up.” She smiled. “Whereas I was the daughter of an alterations tailor.”
    “How did you and Thomas meet?” Angus asked.
    “We were both in community theater, in New York. Thomas painted sets. He was a bit of an artist and rebel back then, very strong-willed, but then I am, too. For a long time we wanted the same things, so it didn’t matter.”
    “What changed?”
    “Money.” She smiled slightly. “It all started with a little bug. The Baskerville fortune was in lumber. For a long time Thomas did very well as the head of the company, until the pine-bark beetle destroyed most of the timber. Thomas, trying to diversify, made some investments that didn’t pan out. Then there was a hostile takeover bid. Instead of bowing to the inevitable, he sold many of the family assets, trying to buy enough stock to keep the takeover from happening. But it did, because another family stockholder decided to sell.”
    “Ouch,” Michael said.
    “I had this house as a bequest from one of Thomas’s aunts who had taken a shine to me. So we moved here to live out our lives on a limited income.”
    Angus looked at Lila, in her perky outfit. “But that didn’t happen.”
    “No.” Charlotte chucked Lila under the chin, and the dog nosed her fingers. “Shortly after we moved here, Thomas fell into a depression. When he took a double dose of his medications and wound up in the hospital, he swore it was an accident, but I wondered. I bought Petey hoping to cheer him up.” She put Lila down and went to a drop-front desk, where she took a small photo album from the drawer. She handed it to Angus and resumed her seat.
    Angus flipped open the cover. “Aww … Look at the wee mite.”
    “Wow, Chihuahua puppies are really small!” Michael said, looking at a photo. In it, a smiling Thomas held Petey cupped in one large hand.
    Suki came over. “Can I get a shot of you with that picture, Charlotte? It’s all right if you look sad.” She took a few pictures. “Thanks.”
    Charlotte handed the album back to Angus. “Petey was irresistible. Thomas taught him to sit and lie down—all the things that made him such a good photography subject later on.”
    Angus turned a few pages, then held up a picture that showed Petey wearing a plaid raincoat. “Is this the first outfit you made?”
    “No, I bought that one.” She took the book and flipped the pages, then held it out. “This was the first, and I had no idea of selling it.”
    The photo showed Petey, grown up and wearing a tuxedo dickey, complete with bow tie. Other dogs and their owners surrounded him, and many of the humans wore party hats. “Thomas was happier after I got Petey,” Charlotte said, “but we had missed our initial opportunity to make friends in the community. I’d spent all my time trying to cheer him up, and people thought of us as a couple who didn’t like to socialize.”
    “So you threw a party,” Michael said, looking at the photo.
    “A birthday party for Petey. I invited the few people I did know—other dog owners I’d met while out walking. When I brought Petey out in his tuxedo, he was an instant hit. I got a few informal orders that night.”
    “How long ago was that?” Angus asked.
    “About ten years. I built up a small business on eBay and sent out a