Fields' Pedigrees wasn't what Stella Burnside expected. The forty year old divorcee had picked the dog breeder's name out of the phone book, and she expected to find a pet shop, or at least a kennel, at the address listed in the yellow pages. Instead, she found a sparkling white, old-fashioned wood-frame house, nestled calmly in the center of a residential block, looking no different from any of the other houses. The voluptuous black-haired woman checked the envelope on which she had jotted down the address, and she reviewed the directions that the young man had given her over the phone. Then she squinted carefully at the address over the green wood door to the white house. It all checked out – this pleasantly homey looking house must be Fields' Pedigrees, even though there wasn't so much as a sign outside.

It's a wonder they do any business, the gorgeous divorced woman thought as she mounted the gray-painted steps to the front door. It occurred to her that maybe she'd better go somewhere else to buy a watchdog. But that man sounded so nice on the phone! Stella had deliberately postponed several other errands that she had to run on her day off, just because she was anxious to meet the dog breeder. He was young, she could tell by his voice, and he had sounded positively charming! The magnificently proportioned woman couldn't put off the chance to meet another handsome young man.

She pushed the buzzer beside the door, and found to her relief that there was a small bronze plaque above the doorbell, saying, "Fields' Pedigrees – Please Ring". There were two other doorbell buttons, and Stella guessed that the large old house had probably been divided into apartments. But how could anyone raise dogs in an apartment?

Her silent question was met with the sudden presence of a tall, athletically proportioned man, who seemed to materialize in the doorway. He had come around from the back of the house, and Stella turned slightly to talk to him.