MADDIE GRABBED HER RING of keys, pulled on her jacket, and carted the box outside. She called it very odd that there were no lurking reporters. What was going on? She shrugged away her concern, though. So they were gone. Like a case of the hives, they wouldn’t be missed. Setting down the box on the musty earth, she locked the delivery door behind her, then pocketed her keys. She stood there a moment, feeling the cold in the air and eyeing the box of James’s things. She looked to her Jeep Wagoneer parked a ways down the dirt drive. Did she really have the courage to do this?
She hesitated, wavering a bit. She leaned against the door behind her and lowered her head, staring at her lace-up boots. So, what was she doing here? What was her point? Did she just not want to see the obvious? And what was the obvious? That she and Hank had been manipulated by James’s will into becoming a public spectacle? Surely James hadn’t intended that. And Hank. In her mind, she saw him again after their chili dinner at the cottage. He’d walked her to her Wagoneer, put Beamer in the back, and then had opened and closed her door for her. Then she’d rolled down her window, he’d lingered, talking, and they’d had trouble saying goodbye. Like two silly kids on the phone playing “you hang up, no you hang up.” Overall, the scene had been poignant, friendly.
Then there’d been that beautiful Monday last week. Why was it always Monday? Anyway, it had been beautiful—until he’d told her she was good for six weeks and then he was leaving. Maddie quirked her mouth. Oh, come on. It’s not like they’re tearing up the roads between here and New York after that. He could come back. Or I could go there.
But what would be the point if he thought of her as a fling? She didn’t think she could go throw herself at him, if that was how he felt. So it was better not to start. See? There was just nothing there. Hank had pretty much said she was a pleasant diversion to get through his enforced ordeal here before he could get back to his real life. How wildly complimentary was that? Even women who were one-night stands didn’t like to think they were, she’d bet. Every woman wanted to feel—deserved to feel—that she was special, that she’d made that perfect guy fall for her on the basis of her own personality.
That’s not how this was between her and Hank. At best, it had all the charm of an arranged marriage between reluctant strangers. And at its worst, it was, well, pretty much the same thing.
Maddie grimaced, her self-esteem further plummeting. Could I be easier to manipulate? Just tug on my lonely heartstrings and watch me cave. That was when she heard herself and felt nothing but disgust. She jerked away from the door and threw her hands up in the air, exhorting a cold and uncaring sky. “Well, you know what, James? You had no right to do this, my friend. I don’t mind telling you, you made a mess down here. Just paved that road right straight to hell with your good intentions, buddy. And now it’s up to me to straighten it out.”
Having worked herself back into the proper frame of mind to complete her final task, and still clad in her dusty jeans and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Maddie picked up the cardboard box of James’s things, atop which lay the stupid lobster clock, and strode toward her Wagoneer. This was right. This felt good. This had the ring of finality to it. Goodbye, yellow brick road …
As if reality and the present would intrude and try to dissuade her, the chilly air nipped at her nose and cheeks. Her fingers, wrapped around the square of cardboard, felt numb. And the box was heavy, as much from memories as content. Maddie drew in a ragged, emotional breath. Tears threatened. Her kind and sentimental heart wanted to cry. This was so hard. And James had been her friend. A real person. Sweet. Funny. A lonely little figure, sick and dying, who had loved simply to sit in her shop and work a jigsaw puzzle and talk to her and Celeste. He’d loved to bring her ice cream and then have dinner with her. Why was she so mad at him? The poor man was a victim of the saying that no good deed goes unpunished.
And now she carried in her arms James’s old shirts and his shaving kit and the little gifts from her shop that he’d bought. She had his shoes, his battered old hat he always wore, and a framed picture of the two of them, taken at that silly booth in the arcade. Maddie tried her best not to cry, not to waver in her resolve. Until today, she’d never even gone through the box. Hadn’t even looked in it or rummaged through its contents to see what James had kept.
But Beamer had. She’d pulled out that old sweater of James’s and had dragged it off to add to her bedding. Okay, that had really gotten to Maddie. What Beamer had done was so human and such a statement of bereavement. Who with a heart wouldn’t have been touched and saddened after witnessing that?
So today had been Maddie’s turn to go into her darkened shop and face her conflicting thoughts. She’d lost a friend and gained … What? A dog. A ton of money. And a handsome guy. Maddie mentally scratched at her head. Why again was she mad at James? Oh yeah, she felt used. Used how? Then that old José Feliciano song came back to her. Something about if you’re using me, then use me all up. She pictured Hank. And felt warm. In bed with Hank. For six weeks, if that was all they had. What would suck about that? But she knew. The aftermath would. The day he left. The day she felt cheap and knew she’d been a six-week stand. Hello, unhappy ending. When would it be her turn to get one right?
Today? No. Today wasn’t so special. Then why was she so giddy about the prospect of seeing Hank? Why was her stomach aflutter and her hands shaky? All she was doing was taking his grandfather’s things to him, things he had a right to have.
But she didn’t believe her own motivation for a minute. Sure, she wanted to take Hank’s grandfather’s things to him. And sure she could have given them to Lillian Madison to give to Hank, but she hadn’t. She’d kept them until she could get her nerve up to go see Hank herself. There it was: she wanted to see Hank Madison. Even with everything she knew about the will and James’s intent and Hank’s … whatever it was he felt, she wanted to see him.
Freakin’ pathetic. That’s what I am. Just throw myself at the man. Like Miss Prissy, that skinny, desperate hen in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons. Well, that “happy” thought accompanied her to the back of her Wagoneer, where she set the box down. She fished out her keys, stuck the appropriate one in the lock on the tailgate, and turned it to lower the window into the tailgate frame. That done, she then lowered the tailgate itself. The devil was in the details, she fussed as she leaned over and hefted the box into her arms. She lugged it up onto the lowered gate and slid it across the Wagoneer’s cargo bed.
A bit winded from her day’s exertions, Maddie stood there, content to absorb her surroundings for a breath-catching moment. Her Jeep was parked in the grassy, rutted driveway that ran alongside her small house at the back of her shop. A rickety old one-car garage faced the Jeep and pleaded with Maddie to use it. At least that was one thing she hadn’t fallen for. All she had to do was look at the garage’s wormy wood to see the darned thing would collapse around her vehicle. And then what would she do? She didn’t have the money to buy—Wait a minute. Yes she did. She had enough money—or would have soon—to buy a small country, if she wanted to. Or even a medium-sized one.
Maddie smiled diabolically. Okay, so maybe she would buy her own country. An island in the South Pacific would be nice. Maybe she’d live there as the queen of all she surveyed. That tropical image, with her in a grass skirt and a coconut bra, had her chuckling. Add Celeste to the scene and in the same outfit and it got downright hilarious. Wait, Maddie admonished herself, was that an old-people joke? Okay, maybe it was. Still, the concept that she could possibly command a monetary number with that many zeroes in it boggled her mind. Maddie quickly shook her head, telling herself that today wasn’t the day for worrying about how to spend Madison money. Today was the day to deal with one particularly frustrating Madison.
Certainly, the chilly weather seemed to agree with her timing. The afternoon’s air was redolent with the pungent scent of cold damp earth. There was also a sharp tang to the air, a certain slant to the sun’s light, and a bone-deep awareness inside her that whispered winter would soon be on its way. Only this morning frost had coated the ground. It had melted into dew as the sun rose. But one day soon, she knew, the frost wouldn’t be so quick to melt. Or the sun so eager to rise.
Suddenly a bit melancholy with knowing that by the time that happened Hank would be gone, Maddie raised the tailgate and locked it into place. She plucked her keys out of the lock and told herself she was all done. She was ready to go. Nothing to do but go. She stuck her hands in her corduroy jacket’s pockets and looked around her. Had she forgotten anything? Like what? The route out to the old beach houses where Hank was? Hardly. So, it was time to go. Time to get on the road. Time to put one foot in front of the other. Time to—
A sudden mournful howling behind Maddie made her jump and chilled her to the bone. She jerked around and stumbled against the Jeep at her back. She stared wide-eyed, her heart pounding. It was Beamer. The dog was on her hind legs, her front ones braced against the low wooden fence that encircled Maddie’s bit of backyard. The animal, looking more wolf than domesticated pet right now, stared unblinking into Maddie’s eyes and then raised her head to the skies, again howling—a long, ululating sound that prickled the hairs at the back of Maddie’s neck and sent her skin crawling over her body.
“My God, Beamer, what’s wrong?” Maddie didn’t know what to do, or if she could even move to do anything. Then she knew. Without a doubt, she knew. It was the box. It represented James. And the dog smelled James’s scent on his things. Maddie put a hand over her mouth. Ohmigod, I didn’t even think how this would affect Beamer. The poor thing.
“Oh, Beamer, honey, I’m so sorry. You miss James, don’t you?” Maddie walked toward the mournful dog. Beamer remained on her back legs, panting and whining and watching Maddie, who held a hand out to the golden retriever. “It’s okay, Beamer. I know this is tough. And I know you hurt. But I’m just taking James’s things out to Hank, all right? You have your sweater of his. So I think Hank should have something of his grandfather’s, too. I know you’re upset. But I really have to do this.”
The dog cocked her head to one side and perked her ears up, considering Maddie. A bit encouraged, Maddie smiled. “There now. See? Good girl. That’s a nice doggy—”
Beamer yapped suddenly and jerked her head up and howled for all she was worth. Startled, Maddie’s old fears surfaced and she yelped and ran, not stopping until she was on the other side of the Jeep. Feeling a bit foolish, but more frightened, she peered at the dog from around the dinosaur vehicle’s back end. With a perceived safe distance between them, and hoping the dog wouldn’t remember it could jump the fence, Maddie scolded the animal. “Now, stop that, you hear me? You stop that right now. You scared me. Is that nice? I’m trying to do the right thing here and the least you could do is be supportive.”
It’s a dog, Maddie, she reminded herself. I know that, but she still understands, I’ll bet.
Sure enough, Beamer eyed Maddie as if listening to every word. Then she dropped down from the fence and turned away, trotting for the other side of the yard. The animal passed out of Maddie’s line of vision. “So there,” Maddie marveled, coming out from behind the Jeep’s protective bulk and putting her fisted hands to her waist. “I did it. Cool.”
Victory was short-lived. What was the dog doing now? Maddie put a finger to her mouth and worried the nail. Though not completely convinced this wasn’t some kind of a canine trick, Maddie nevertheless couldn’t restrain her curiosity. She edged closer to the yard and craned her neck to see what, if anything, Beamer might be up to. But she couldn’t see the retriever, not from where she was standing.
So, feeling somewhat like the witless heroine in the horror movies who always, always—unarmed and in her nightgown—went to check out the slithery, groaning, hideous noises in the basement on a dark and stormy night, Maddie sidled closer to her backyard’s fence. She’d advanced about four or five steps closer when she suddenly remembered she never had happy endings.
Sure enough, in split-second sequences, the dog came trotting back into view, bunched her muscles, and went airborne, sailing effortlessly over the fence, her big furry body a projectile missile hurtling straight for a terrified Maddie. That old fight-or-flight instinct told her to choose. She did. She jerked around, running as fast as she could and screaming all the way. The hounds of hell were after her, she was sure of it. The dog was possessed. Any second now she’d be dragged down, killed, and devoured.
Completely panicked, she tore around the Jeep, up the driveway, turned right and flew past Maddie’s Gifts, past the hardware store, and up the hill toward Cobblestone Drive.
On and on she ran. Only the steep angle of the hill, and a vicious stitch in her side, finally slowed her down and had her stumbling to a stop. Completely winded, and undevoured—and apparently even unchased by the dog since it was nowhere to be seen—she bent over at the waist and clutched her knees. As she sucked in great draughts of air, she stared numbly at a little tuft of grass clinging tenaciously to life in a crack in the sidewalk. She felt hot and weak all over, her nose was running, she was crying, her ponytail was hanging over her shoulder, she felt like the world’s biggest coward, and—
Maddie turned her head. Dammit. A big, new, shiny SUV monster machine that had been wending its way down the hill was now pulling over to the curb on the opposite side of the road from her and slowing to a stop.
She wanted to scream. Throw a rock at him. Tell him to go away. But she couldn’t catch her breath or straighten up, nor could she see a handy-sized rock. Worse, her sides were cramping and her legs were shaking with her exertion and her emotion. And now, here he was. Are life and the fates just totally against me or what? Maddie didn’t have to look up to know who this was. This was a no-brainer. Hank Madison was riding to her rescue. Her knight encased in a vehicle of shining armor.
Sure enough, she heard the smooth, metallic motions of the machine’s gears as he shifted his Navigator into park. She heard the driver’s-side door open. Saw his jeans-clad legs as he stepped out onto the cobblestoned road. Heard the door being closed. And heard him call out her name and then, given the obvious sight she made, ask the world’s dumbest question …
* * *
“Maddie? Are you all right?” It was a stupid question, Hank knew it. Of course she wasn’t all right because here she was, around the corner from her house, alone, inexplicably halfway up a hill, and bent over and crying.
Without straightening up, she shoved her ponytail out of her face. Her puckered expression clearly said she agreed that his question had been the world’s stupidest. “No, I’m not okay, Hank. Do I in any way look okay to you? I mean, do I really?”
Hank’s frown punctuated his burgeoning alarm. What the hell had happened to her? He started to dart across the street, but a passing subcompact-sized car slowly climbing the hill prevented him from immediately going to Maddie. The driver, a sweet-faced, gray-haired lady Hank couldn’t place, honked and waved first at Maddie, who ignored her, and then at him. He waved back, as much telling her to keep going as to return her greeting.
Hank then looked both ways. No more traffic. Apparently the lone designated vehicle for today’s rush hour in Hanscomb Harbor had just driven past. Mindful of the slippery nature of such an uneven surface and how it could turn an ankle, Hank gingerly sprinted across the damp cobblestone road. Safely achieving the other side, he stepped up onto the curb. This put him right at Maddie’s side. He bent over her, putting a comforting hand on her back and his other on her arm. “Maddie? What happened?”
He thought his tone of voice was tender and solicitous enough, but apparently she didn’t because she said, “Don’t you touch me, Hank Madison.”
Surprised but ever accommodating, Hank took his hands off her. “All right.” He stepped back, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his lined nylon jacket. “So what’s wrong?”
As he watched, Maddie walked her hands up her thighs and stood up straight. Her face was red, her nose was runny, and tears streaked her cheeks. Hank’s heart ached for her. Looking very much like a little girl whose heart had just been broken, she swiped a sleeve under her nose and used her hands to wipe at her face. Her expression was a mixture of hurt and anger, seemingly aimed at him. “You’re asking me what’s wrong with me? As if you don’t already know.”
“I don’t. If I knew I wouldn’t be asking.”
“What are you doing here, Hank?” Her bottom lip poked out in a serious pout.
Hank proceeded with caution. “Do you mean in a philosophical sense, the meaning of life?”
“No. Here.” She sketched a big, angry arc in the air, as if to include the whole town. “Here. Right now. You know.”
“But I don’t. And Maddie, you’re not making any sense.”
She frowned, cocking her head at a disbelieving angle. “I don’t believe you. You know what I’m talking about.”
He shrugged. “I really do not.”
“Where are all the media today? Why aren’t they here swamping us?”
“Oh. Them. I got tired of their constant harassment so I rented the Captain’s Tavern for the evening and treated them all. Anything for an afternoon of peace. And maybe tomorrow they’ll all have hangovers and won’t get out of bed for a while.”
She looked askance at him. “That was smart.”
“And expensive.”
Maddie stared mutely at him, her assessing, doubting expression making it clear that it had cost her big-time to say something nice about him. Hank withdrew a hand from his jacket pocket and scratched at his temple. It didn’t itch, but he was just confused. What in her world here in picturesque Hanscomb Harbor could possibly produce this dire a result? It was akin to being cranky while at Walt Disney World. You just couldn’t be. Then Hank came up with a possible candidate. “Hey, where’s Beamer?”
Maddie tensed, her eyes rounded.
Bingo. Hank looked all around for the dog as he asked, “Did Beamer do something to you?”
“She howled. It was awful.” Maddie seemed to come back to herself. She closed her eyes and held her head with both hands. Her chin trembled. “She howled and jumped over the fence at me. I really thought I was over being afraid of dogs. But I ran away like some scared little kid. How stupid is that?”
Relief coursed through Hank. She’d just been scared by the dog. That was all. Thank God. Still, he had enough sense not to let her see he thought her experience pretty much a two on a scale of possible tragedies, one hundred being the worst. “It’s not stupid at all,” he said supportively. “Not if you’re already scared of dogs. Beamer is a big dog, and you could have been hurt. So you probably did the smart thing in running.”
Maddie opened her eyes, revealing ice-blue irises that saw right through him. “Oh, shut up. And quit trying to make me feel better.”
A bit taken aback, Hank said simply enough, “Okay.”
“And quit being so agreeable.”
Well, how do you agree to do that without being agreeable? What do you say? Hank settled for “All right,” but wisely said no more. Yet he had to fist his hands in his pockets in an effort not to reach out and try to comfort her.
God, he wanted so badly to take her in his arms and hold her. He wanted to tuck her head up under his chin and wrap his arms around her. She looked so sad and alone, even with him standing here in front of her. Something inside Hank melted at the sight of her hair coming undone from her ponytail. Fuzzy blond tendrils framed her face. Could she look more vulnerable or adorable?
She aroused such fierce protective instincts in him. If only she’d let him touch her. But she wouldn’t. She’d already told him not to. And she’d told him last Monday to stay away from her. He hadn’t understood why then, and still didn’t. But he’d honored her wish. It had been hell, but he’d done it. And now, here she was. And all he could do was keep his distance and try to talk to her. This totally sucked. He tried another tack. “You want a glass of water or something?”
She looked at him as if he’d just offered to tear his arm out at the socket. “No, Hank, I don’t. But what if I did? Are you going to tell me you have one there in your pocket?”
“Okay, so it was a stupid question. I’m just trying to help. You want to tell me about it? Or do you want me to just get back in my Navigator and go navigate myself right off the first high cliff I come to?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’d do that for me?”
This sarcasm was really unlike her. “Okay, Maddie, this is more than the dog. You’ve been giving me grief since I got out of my car. What’s really going on?”
She exhaled sharply. “Just get in your SUV and come to my place. And I’ll show you what’s going on.”
“Fair enough. You want a ride?”
“No. I live just around the corner.”
“I remember. But I was trying to be nice. So … see you there?”
“Fine.” Without further ado or ceremony, she turned and walked away, heading back down the hill on the narrow band of sidewalk. Her steps were short and halting, owing to the steep grade.
Still worried about her emotional state, Hank stared at her back, noting her swaying ponytail, then her narrow feminine shoulders, the smooth swing of her cute behind, and the effortless stride of her long legs as she achieved more level ground. He watched her until she rounded the corner and the hardware store blocked her from his view. Hank shook his head, wondered again what the hell was going on, and then looked both ways up and down the road. No traffic. No surprise. He sprinted back across the road, got into his Navigator, started it up, put it in gear, and headed for Maddie’s Gifts.
Somehow, he didn’t think he was going to like what it was she had to show him.
In only seconds, Hank pulled into the narrow, grassy, wheel-rutted driveway next to Maddie’s shop. He inched his vehicle up to the Wagoneer and stopped it about a foot from the other vehicle’s nose. As he put his Navigator in park and killed the engine, he looked for but didn’t see Maddie. He climbed out and closed the door. Then he saw her. Standing with her arms crossed, she was at the back of her beat-up Wagoneer. Eyeing the green simulated-wood-paneled vehicle as he walked along its side, Hank fought a grin. The woman would soon have most of the money in the Western Hemisphere and she drove this bucket of bolts. Ah, the eccentric rich.
He joined Maddie at the back of her Jeep, met her unhappy eyes, and then followed her gaze to the vehicle’s interior. She lowered the tailgate to show him that the cargo space was occupied. “Well,” he remarked, glancing over at Maddie, “I was going to ask—yet again—what’s going on. But now I see.” He faced the Jeep’s cargo bed. “Hello, Beamer. How you doing?”
Sitting nicely, Beamer was in the rear cargo compartment. She wore a dog grin and woofed her greeting at Hank. He noticed that she shared the space with a good-sized cardboard box, but didn’t think anything about it—until, on a second glance, he saw the red ceramic lobster clock lying atop a bed of folded clothes. A feeling of fatalism assailed him. Hank pretty much knew what this was, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, anyway. “What’s all this?”
“It’s everything I have of your grandfather’s.” Her face was absolutely expressionless … and unnerving.
Okay. This was a clue. All of his grandfather’s belongings were boxed and in the rear of her car. “I see. Where were you going with it?”
“Out to your cottage.”
Hank nodded but couldn’t quite hold Maddie’s steady gaze. Just seeing his grandfather’s things like this made everything so real, the loss so new again. Emotion tightened in Hank’s throat. He cleared it discreetly and said, “So apparently Beamer wanted to go, too. Am I right?”
Maddie nodded. “By all appearances.”
God, he wished she’d yell or be sarcastic or tell him to go to hell. That he knew how to deal with. But not this blank staring and the monotonal, emotionless voice. “Why were you bringing me my grandfather’s things?”
“Because I thought you should have them. He was your kin, not mine.”
Oh, boy. Something major had happened. “He was your friend.”
“So I thought.”
“So you thought? Dammit, Maddie, talk to me.”
She didn’t even blink. “I am.”
“No you’re not. You’re speaking to me, but you’re not talking to me. Talk to me now, or I’m leaving and I’m not taking any of this stuff with me.”
She shifted her stance, putting her weight on one leg. “All right. Yesterday, Celeste told me everything. And I think you know what I mean by everything. So here I am—your sacrificial virgin.”
Hank ducked his head. “My what? Come again?”
“Your sacrificial virgin. Figuratively speaking, of course. But you know all of this, Hank. One of two things is going on here and neither one of them is pretty.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What are the two things?”
Maddie’s chin quivered as she sucked in a breath and appeared to struggle for control. “Scenario number one. Your grandfather befriended me because he wanted me for you—”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“Not so much. You yourself thought something like this was behind Jim Thornton’s hints to you.”
“Something, yes. But not a conspiracy, for crying out loud.”
“Yet that may be exactly what it is. If he set this up like I think in scenario number one, then he left me everything that is rightfully yours, so you and I would be forced to meet and would hopefully fall in love and get married. How manipulative is that?”
“Pretty damned.” Hank felt a bit numb, but not totally turned off by the whole idea, either. “Where are you getting all this, Maddie?”
“Mostly from Celeste, who has never lied to me. But the rest of it I came up with on my own.”
Hank exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his jaw. “What ‘rest of it’?”
“You tell me, Hank.” Maddie’s eyes were narrowed … and accusatory.
Why would she—? Suddenly, he got it. And didn’t like it. “Oh, hold on. Do you honestly think I’d be in on something that … that screwball, Maddie? How could I be? I didn’t know about the will until the same moment you did. And even if I had, why would I be? All I have to do is sit out here for six weeks and then go on with the rest of my life with everything back in place.”
She closed her eyes and put a hand over her face, speaking through her spread fingers. “That’s the part I hate the most. That you would toy with me.”
Hank’s chest tightened. “Toy with you? I have never toyed with you, Maddie. Never. I don’t know what makes you think I have.”
She dropped her hand to her side and stretched over the lowered tailgate. With her fingers, she snagged a corner of the box and pulled it toward her. Smoothly, she picked it up and, without warning, shoved it into his hands. “Here. This belongs to you. Take it and go. I never want to see you or that lobster clock again. And take the dog, too.”
She made a move to step around him, but Hank, his arms wrapped around the box, purposely blocked her way. “Maddie, you are so wrong. You’re wrong about me. And you’re wrong to be doing this. You’re not even in the ballpark with this behavior. Look, I don’t know what’s happened. But I know I didn’t have any hand in it. I swear it.”
“I wish I could believe you. But I know what James wanted. And I know what you said to me last Monday out at the cottage. And I know how your mother is not pleased with any of this and feels threatened. Well, I’m not happy, either. Maybe we were all used by James, I don’t know. But really, Hank, when it’s all said and done, none of it matters. It’s just another day. And I’m sick to death of you Madisons and all your intrigue and the publicity. I mean, who needs it? I certainly don’t.”
This time, when she went to step around him, Hank let her go and turned to watch her. She stalked off, her hands in her pockets as she searched for, and then produced, a set of keys that fit the door on the side of her shop. She unlocked it, stepped through, and slammed it behind her.
Stunned, Hank swung his gaze to Beamer. The golden retriever arched her eyebrows dramatically. “What the hell did you do?” Hank asked her.
She whined and shifted about in the cargo hold … and then barked.
“Exactly,” Hank said. “Well, thanks a lot. You and I have just been told to get the heck out of Dodge because it’s not big enough for the three of us.”
Beamer again barked her agreement with Hank’s assessment.