“Rob Howell, pleasure to meet you,” he said, smiling an instantly likeable smile. A lank six footer with a dark scruff of beard, he held a cell phone in his right hand, offered her the other. A pair of heavy rubber gloves was stuffed into his back pocket. “Today’s my day to clean the exercise area out back. Cynthia . . . that’s my wife . . . saw you drive up and called to let me know. I’ll introduce you later, when she’s through feeding our six-month-old.”

Julia nodded again and stood quietly in the warm sunlight.

“So,” Howell said after a moment. “How was your trip here?”

“Oh, great,” Julia said. “Very relaxing, in fact.”

“Any trouble spotting that sign down the hill? Guess it’s kind of hard to notice sometimes. With all the branches I’m always forgetting to trim—”

“No, no, I saw it just fine.” She nodded over toward the house. “Those are beautiful dogs back there . . . are they up for placement?”

“Actually, they’re our personal brood. Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Ross, and Joey. Don’t ask how we got stuck with them—”

“What about Chandler?” Julia said. “I assume they’re named after characters from that TV show Friends. . . .”

“Right, that’s it.”

“And Chandler being the sixth, well, friend . . .”

“Cynthia and I try to leave an open slot. Just in case another dog turns out to be irresistible,” Howell said with another smile. “You have, what, two ex-racers of your own?”

“Jack and Jill,” Julia said. “Which means a third pooch would have to be named Hill or Pail of Water. If I use your general naming formula.”

“There’s a lesson in that for prospective adopters, I suppose,” he said. “Stick to nursery rhymes with lots of characters—”

“And sitcoms with large ensemble casts.”

Both were grinning now.

“Follow me,” Howell said and nodded toward the center. “We should talk about the job.”

The area just inside the building’s doorway turned out to be a combination waiting area and supply-and-gift shop. There were folding chairs to one side of the room that Julia guessed were for visitors, a counter and cash register, and walls lined with all manner of greyhound-related merchandise: books on the breed’s history and care; porcelain statues and life-size posters of greys; ashtrays, coffee mugs, pens, beach towels, cooking aprons, sweatshirts, T-shirts, jackets, and even socks featuring their likenesses. There were also leashes, collars, and coats as well as plenty of general dog health and grooming items.

Howell had noticed Julia looking around the place.

“Every cent we make here at our In the Money store . . . that’s a little play on words, since racing greyhounds get retired, really discarded, by their kennel owners and trainers after they’ve finished out of the money once too often . . . goes toward the upkeep of our facility and maintenance and veterinary expenses for the dogs,” he said. “We do lots of mail order and are just getting into online sales.”