MADDIE HELD HER SKIRT up and stumbled along beside Hank as he hurried them toward the rental cottage. When she could, when all her faculties weren’t needed to help her keep her feet, she owned up to being so embarrassed right now that she’d like to throw herself headlong into the ocean. Why had she said that about them getting together? Why? He had to be thinking “gold digger” again.
She got no farther than that in her thoughts before she saw they’d successfully navigated their way to the back of the little square cottage set away from the others. Hank aimed his flashlight toward the front and Maddie saw a tiny screened-in front porch attached to the one-room weathered-wood structure. It didn’t have the look of being occupied. In fact, it didn’t have the look of a dwelling that could be safely occupied.
Hank stopped and turned to her. “Why don’t you let me go first? In case Beamer is here. Or in case she isn’t and someone human is. You never know.”
“Okay. But, look, Hank, what I said back there at the car—”
“Drop it. Forget it.”
“You really need to quit flattering yourself. I don’t have designs on you.”
“Good. Wait here.”
Boy, he really didn’t want to talk about it. Maddie’s temper surfaced. “All right. Fine. Go ahead.”
“I will.”
“Good. Fine. Go.”
“I am.”
“I believe you.”
“Wait here.”
“I said I would.”
Towering over her, Hank looked up and away from her. Perhaps he was asking for patience. He swung his gaze back to hers. “You do understand that if Beamer is here, I’m going to have to put her in the back of my car for the ride back to town, right? You know that?”
Maddie swallowed and pronounced herself the first person in history to actually feel her face growing pale—not that she was going to let him know that. “Great. She’ll have me licked hairless by then. Oh, God.”
“Jesus,” Hank said as if that were the appropriate response in a litany they were reciting. He rubbed at his mouth and jaw, but didn’t say anything else. He just stood there staring down at her. “Maddie, there’s no other way. Why didn’t you just tell me about this place and stay in town?”
“Because I … well, I just didn’t think about that until now.” And because I pretty much wanted to be with you, you conceited hunk.
“All right. Neither did I,” Hank conceded. “But here we are now.” He stared at the cottage, then inhaled deeply. “It’s not like this little run-down beach house holds a lot of memories for me.” Maddie wondered who he was trying to convince. “And it’s not like this is the family home and he lived here for fifty years.”
“I believe you. And where is that, by the way? Your family home.”
“Long Island.” His dark eyes accused her. “You ought to know. You own it now.”
“I do?”
“You didn’t read what you were signing the other day?”
“No. There had to be a hundred pages. I’d still be there.”
“Right.” Hank turned away.
“No.” Her involuntary cry stopped him and had him turning to face her. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be out here alone. I’ve seen that movie. The girl left behind always gets killed by the monster.”
Hank stared at her. “For God’s sake, Maddie, there is no monster. Only a dog. Besides, Beamer probably isn’t even here. I’d think if she was, she’d have barked or come running around the corner when she heard us.”
“That’s true,” Maddie said to his departing back, and hating it about herself that all she could do was admire his broad shoulders and narrow hips.
Then he went around the corner, out of view. Maddie began her vigil. She had to physically stop herself from whistling nervously. To her, standing there alone in the moon-silvered dark, it seemed as if he’d already been gone for hours. Of course, he’d only just left. Maddie crossed her arms under her breasts and hummed to herself, toeing the sand. Slowly the sounds around her began to encroach … and to comfort her. The wonderful salty scent of the briny water. The feel of the sand between her toes. The cool air on the bare skin of her arms. The way the breeze lifted her hair. The sound of the waves hitting the shore, relentlessly, patiently …
The cold, wet thing behind her that had just poked against her leg.
Maddie froze, much as if someone had stuck a gun in her back. She prayed that the thing behind her would be a squid that had taken several recent giant steps up the evolutionary ladder and could now walk on dry land. Or maybe a hideously large Jules Verne–esque crab. Or a 1950s horror-movie lobster that had crawled through some nuclear-disaster vapor cloud and was now fifty feet tall. That wouldn’t be so bad. Anything but the dog with the slurpy tongue and the tremendous affection for her. Please. Not that.
An idle woof behind her put the lie to any but the dog theories. It was the dog. And it was behind her. And she was alone with it. And it loved her. No.
“H-Hank?” Maddie stuttered. She wet her lips and tried again, this time out loud. “Hank? Come here please.” Well, it was a little louder. Still, no answer and no Hank. Maybe that was because she was facing the wind. Which meant the sound of her voice would carry in the opposite direction. Behind her. Where the dog was. Was all of nature against her tonight?
The good news was that the cold wet thing, the doggy nose most likely, was no longer poking at her leg. The canine had retreated. But how far? And what was it doing? Maddie tensed, her hands fisted. She was about one second away from panicking and running, screaming into the night. Then she heard herself. She was being silly. It was a dog, one that had never bitten her. And it loved her. And wanted to share its love in doggy kisses. How awful was that?
Maddie frowned, trying to find courage. Okay, this was her chance to take control and make the dog behave. Right here, she would draw a line in the sand. She felt the sand under her feet. And drew a line in it with her toe. So far, so good. Determined, yet with her heart pounding, with her pulse vibrating in her ears, and alive with adrenaline, Maddie whipped around. She pointed in a very commanding way, arm stiff and her face grim. “Stay, Beamer,” she ordered. “Sit.”
Which was pretty silly because the dog already was. Sitting, that is. Beamer’s ears jerked erect—no doubt with surprise—when Maddie spun around to face her. But the golden retriever remained sitting. The result of Maddie’s mastery over her? She decided yes and started getting cocky. That was easy. Cool. Maddie eyed the dog right back, absorbing other details.
“You’re all wet,” she heard herself say. “Nothing personal. It’s just that you are.” She was. She was soaked. And dotted with clumps of sand that stuck to her fur. Obviously she’d been swimming. And rolling in the sand.
As if being spoken to were a cue, Beamer got up and, grinning, padded toward Maddie.
“Oh, God.” Maddie began backing up, a hand held out defensively toward the advancing dog. “No, Beamer. Sit. Stay.”
She should have been more specific. Because Beamer didn’t sit or stay, not until she stopped directly in front of Maddie, where she planted her four legs and vigorously shook herself all over, slinging excess salty water and sand all over Maddie.
Maddie put her arms up in front of her face and screamed.
* * *
Hank froze, his flashlight still illuminating the locked screen door to the cabin’s ramshackle porch. He stared straight ahead, unseeing, as his mind replayed the sound. That was Maddie, all right. Somehow he knew the reason why she had screamed, too. Beamer.
Maddie had found or had been confronted by the dog. All of this flashed through his mind in a split second. In the next one, he rounded the front of the cabin and headed for the spot where he’d left Maddie alone. Hank aimed the flashlight’s brightness at anything that moved. Which was a considerable feat because most everything was moving. He stopped cold, staring. What the hell…?
He hadn’t been the only one to heed Maddie’s cry. A score of vacationers in various states of dress and undress had poured out of their rented cabins. With flashlights in hand, they were everywhere. Running, looking, holding small children and pets back in lighted doorways, pointing, and calling out what was the matter. The scene was that of a Keystone Kops fire drill gone awry.
In the center of the maelstrom of late-evening seaside activity were—no surprises here—Maddie and Beamer. Hank could see them through the gaps in the space between some of the concerned citizens. With a hand covering her mouth, Maddie’s expression could only be called sheepish. Sheepish for having screamed, no doubt. For her part, Beamer stood her ground close to Maddie and barked her intent to protect the woman she adored from the unwanted advance of those bent on coming to rescue her from the dog.
“Great,” was Hank’s opinion. Wedging a shoulder between a skinny man in cut-off jeans and a grandmotherly lady in curlers, Hank worked his way through the crowd coalescing around Maddie and the dog. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Thank you. Yes, I know them. Everything is under control. The dog just startled her. No, it’s not my dog. It’s her dog. I know she screamed. No, there’s no need for the police. Step back, please. She’ll be fine. Just give her some air. Thanks.”
In that way, Hank loosened the knot of titillated onlookers and insinuated himself into the center of the circle. He immediately gripped Beamer’s collar and warmly encouraged her to step away from Maddie. The dog obeyed—with Hank helping her to retreat several paces away. The cabin dwellers did likewise, warily eyeing the dog. Beamer sat alert and grinning as she watched these human proceedings with great interest. Hank turned to the crowd. “Thanks. We appreciate your concern and your good citizenship. But it’s over now. And you can return to your cabins.”
“Hey,” the man in the cutoffs called out, using his flashlight as a pointer and aiming it at Hank. “You look like that rich guy in the paper whose grandfather died. It was all over the news.” He turned to his companions. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
They all agreed it was. A conversational buzz went through the gathering. He’d been discovered. Hank exhaled and met the openly curious stares directed at him and tried to dissuade them. “It’s just a coincidence that I look like him.”
“No. You’re him,” the older woman in curlers chimed in with great authority. “I saw you about a week ago on that news show with all those reporters around you. I never forget a handsome face. Now, tell the truth, son. You’re Hank Madison, aren’t you?”
What to do? He could either tell the truth, as the lady suggested, or he could engage in further and damning questioning. Hank’s jaw tightened. This was about the last in a long list of things he needed. He was only too aware of Maddie’s nearness, her silence, and his surprising desire to protect her from these well-meaning but interfering people. “Yes, I am,” he finally replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…?”
“Can I get your autograph?” The curler woman held out a napkin and a crayon to him. Hank stared at them in disbelief. “I was drawing with the kids when I heard the young lady here scream,” the woman explained.
Hank nodded, then shook his head about the autograph. “I’m sorry, but there’s really no reason to have my autograph. I’m not a celebrity of any sort.”
“Sure you are. You were on the TV.”
The very definition of celebrity. Hank snapped his fingers for Beamer to come, which she did, and he then gripped Maddie’s elbow. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, the lady and I need to—”
“Hey, what about the young woman? Who’s she? Is she anybody?”
“No. I mean yes. Certainly she’s somebody. She’s just not—”
“I know her. That’s the lady who runs the gift shop in town.”
“I don’t do autographs, either,” Maddie said quickly.
Hank was about one second from turning Beamer loose on the crowd. But instead of fangs, he decided on diplomacy. “Look,” he said with authority, addressing those around them, “thank you for your concern here tonight. Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to be moving along. And we’ll let you get back to your evening, too. Good night, all.”
Not brooking any arguments, Hank turned Maddie with him, put an arm around her shoulders, and again snapped his fingers for Beamer to follow them. Which, again and surprisingly, the dog did, opting to pad along obediently beside Maddie instead of attacking her. It was amazing, really, how the big golden retriever was completely mad about her. Hank didn’t think he’d ever seen an example of such devotion before as the dog exhibited. And apparently with no encouragement from Maddie.
But Beamer wasn’t the only one. Apparently his grandfather had been especially fond of Maddie, too. Fond? That was the understatement of the year. He’d bequeathed her the entire holdings of Madison and Madison, a Fortune 500 advertising firm, all his property, stocks, bonds, cash, art, real estate holdings … the list went on.
Amazing. Hank felt her warmly and quietly at his side. With every step they took together, she bumped gently against him. It was a very troubling feeling. Because she felt so right there. So damned right. Hank began to worry. Was he falling under her spell, too? Was she like those sirens of legend who perched on rocks and sang and lured sailors to their deaths? Could be. Or was she the kind of woman whom people—men, women, children, animals—just fell in love with and showered with affection and gifts? It was possible. The evidence was mounting. So, would he eventually lose his mind and his fortune, assuming he got it back, to her? Would he just throw himself at her? Would he one day be mad about her?
No. Hank told himself he most certainly would not. He was immune. Yet he still walked with his arm around her … all the way back to his SUV.
* * *
Two days later, and late in the afternoon of a pleasant Saturday, the bell over the front door of Maddie’s Gifts tinkled as it closed. A smiling customer and her children walked off, visible through the display window, with their wrapped and bagged purchases. Before she passed out of sight, the woman outside waved cheerily at Celeste, who stared peevishly out the window.
When the woman was gone, Celeste wasted no time in puckering her lips and rounding on Maddie. “While I’m as grateful for the business as you are, if one more person comes in here and asks for you or that dog, I’m going to cheerfully choke them. You sure you and Hank Madison and Beamer didn’t do something the other night out at the beach that makes everyone suddenly think you’re celebrities?”
Across the store from Celeste, at the back counter where the register resided, Maddie looked up from tallying the day’s receipts. “I certainly don’t think of myself as a celebrity. But Hank may be. Evidently the news people, and the tabloids, got wind of James’s death and the odd will and the money involved. And, smelling a scandalous story, they hounded Hank in New York.”
This news brightened Celeste. “Will he be in People magazine? Or maybe on Entertainment Tonight?”
“I have no idea.” Maddie frowned, seeing mental images of herself being linked to him and then being mobbed and having to wear dark shades as she was hustled to a waiting car. “God, I hope not.”
“How about on Jerry Springer’s show?”
“Not if there’s a God.”
“Well, you should be getting some of the attention,” Celeste grumbled, clearly disillusioned with Maddie. “Why should Hank have all the fun? You’re the one who got everything.”
Maddie exhaled. “I didn’t get anything. Not yet, anyway. And not all of it, either.” Then, thinking of her decision regarding Hank’s wish to go to New York on business, she muttered under her breath, “Maybe none of it.” Out loud again to Celeste, she said, “I thought of that, the media interest in me, I mean. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before they track me down.”
“Won’t be too hard, what with Hank being here.”
“I asked him that, too: if we can expect an influx—”
“Sounds like some kind of bowel disease.”
Maddie sent Celeste a censuring stare. “Thank you for that image. Nevertheless, I brought that up with Hank, about the town being overrun with news services. He said he didn’t think so. He obviously got out of New York City without the reporters knowing it. Which explains why we still have peace and quiet here, I suppose.”
“Peace and quiet won’t feed the bulldog around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sales, Maddie. You’ve got the receipts right there. We’re barely making it. Even in tourist season. What are we going to do come winter when the store’s closed? We need those reporters here and the curious folks they’ll bring. Lots of them. City people with dollars. People wanting anything with your name on it.”
Maddie knew where this was coming from—Celeste’s fears for her “old age”—and her heart softened. “We’ll be fine, Celeste. You’ve forgotten about the money James left me.” Guilt assailed Maddie because she knew she may not get it. Or deserve it. “I know it’s hard to think about, honey, because it’s so fantastic. But it could be that we’ll soon have all the money we’ll ever need, thanks to James.”
Celeste crossed her arms and puckered her lips. “Not if Hank lives up to his end of the will. Then he gets it all back.”
“No he doesn’t. James left his personal fortune to me. I just don’t get it until Hank has, well, pretty much served his time here.”
“If he does.”
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“You don’t. But he would if you’d be nice to him.”
Maddie folded her hands together atop the thin stack of receipts on the countertop. “Define ‘nice,’ Celeste, as you’re using it. I dare you.”
Celeste demurred coyly. “You know what I mean. Nice. Pay the man some attention. That’s all.”
“It’s kind of hard to do that under the circumstances. Not that I want to. I don’t.”
Celeste tsked her opinion of that. “You still fretting over that doctor jerk? I never did like that Stanton Fairchild, not from the first time you brought him around. Stuck on himself, I said. But you’ve had a year now, Maddie, to get your thoughts in order and see that the problem was his and not yours, honey. Quit hiding.”
“I’m not hiding, Celeste. I’m just—”
“You are hiding. Your friends—Margie and Susan—have quit calling you and asking you to do things with them.”
“Oh, please. They keep trying to fix me up with someone I’ve known since third grade because they’re afraid their husbands might look at me. Trust me, not interested.”
“Well, you need to get interested. You know what they say: if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”
“That’s disgusting, Celeste. But you’re sweet to care. And—”
“Sweet has nothing to do with it. I love you and worry about you, that’s all.” She said this with great ferocity and glaring.
Maddie grinned, bright and silly, at this tiny old woman she loved so much. “You’re sweet, like it or not.” Then she sobered. “But I know what you mean, Celeste. You’re right about me needing to move on. I want to. I will. It’s just, well, with Hank, with this silly stuff to do with James’s will, I just think anything personal should be put on hold for now, that’s all.”
Celeste grumpily crossed her arms under her bosom. “You’re going to let that man get away, aren’t you? And we’ll be poor all the rest of our lives.”
It tickled, warmed, and irritated Maddie, all at the same time, that Celeste believed that her fortunes and misfortunes were directly tied to Maddie’s own. “We’re not poor, Celeste. How many meals have you missed? How many times has your electricity been cut off?”
Celeste looked everywhere but at Maddie. “Now you’re going to pick on a helpless old woman.”
“And who exactly would that be?”
“Hmph.” Dressed in shocking pink with a chiffon scarf tied around her white bun at the nape of her neck, and apparently done tormenting Maddie, Celeste went to pet a contented Beamer. “Do you need me to call the SPCA, honey? Did they abuse you at the beach? Did they beat you and drag you to the car, baby?”
Beamer whined and thumped her tail on the hardwood floor as if to tell Celeste that yes she’d been sorely mishandled and the call to legal authorities was long overdue.
Maddie rolled her eyes, not believing any of this. The dog now completely obeyed Celeste. She never had before, not when James had been alive and would bring the dog along with him. But now? For whatever reason, the two were boon companions. Watch out, world. This development brought Maddie both distress and delight. Distress because there really was no reason now why the dog couldn’t be with them during the day in the store. And delight because, as long as Celeste was around to tell her no, Beamer wouldn’t attack Maddie affectionately.
All in all, a good arrangement since Hank had officially turned the dog over to her two nights ago when they’d got back to her house. And then the darned obedient man had done exactly as she’d directed him to do—he hadn’t come around and had called her house to leave his daily message that he was alive and relaxed in Hanscomb Harbor. How impersonal and unsatisfying … except for the thrill of getting to play and replay his voice on her tape. Maddie heard herself sigh dreamily—and immediately popped to attention, lowering her gaze to focus on the receipts under her hands. I have got to stop thinking about that man. This has heartache written all over it. And I don’t need that again.
But he could call, her stubborn hormones argued. Or he could come by. What else did he have to do? He couldn’t work while he was here. He had to relax. Well, she certainly hoped he was, Maddie argued right back with herself. Because she hadn’t been able to, knowing he was so close by somewhere in town, and she could just run into him at any moment.
And yet she hadn’t. Not at the grocery store. Or the library. The Captain’s Tavern. On the boardwalk. At the beach. Not that Maddie had gone to all those places hoping to see him. She hadn’t. She’d had official business to attend to at each of those places. And it just so happened that he hadn’t been at any of them, damn him. Maddie realized that she’d abandoned the receipts and was drumming her fingernails on the glass countertop and stewing.
Celeste, who had been scratching Beamer under her chin until now, much to the dog’s delight, looked up and said, “That’s a sign of sexual frustration, you know.”
Maddie’s cheeks instantly flamed with embarrassment. She stopped drumming. “It is not. I am not.”
“Uh-huh. You know, you ought to run off somewhere fun and take Hank with you. A change of scenery and a man like that could do you a world of good.”
“We’re back to that, are we? I told you I don’t—” Maddie took a deep breath. “Need a man.”
“Oh, hell, honey, no one needs one. We might want one, but we don’t need one. In my case, I wanted four and married them all. One at a time, of course. Buried them, too. One at a time. But before you go getting your feminist britches in a wad, just remember that your generation wasn’t the first one to figure out men. But still, as the breed goes, Hank’s one of the good ones. And I’m betting he could unknot some of those kinks in you and put some zing into your step.”
“Celeste! I have plenty of zing in my step. And that’s enough about that.”
“Yep,” Celeste told Beamer, “sexual frustration.”
Beamer eyed Maddie, raising a doggie eyebrow. Then woofed gently at Celeste, who nodded her agreement. It was a conspiracy. Then, because Maddie studiously ignored the two, a companionable silence cast its quiet spell over them. Maddie had lost count again with the receipts and had to start over. Celeste continued her adulation of the dog. Then, out of the blue, she said, “What the heck do you think James was thinking, Maddie? You think he really believed that staying here in Hanscomb Harbor for six weeks would change Hank’s ways?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Obviously James was concerned enough to put Hank through all these hoops.”
“Hmph. Flaming hoops, if you ask me. Being here won’t make him want to do anything but get right back to his real life. A man like Hank can’t sit around. He’ll blow up. Just like you read about in the papers. Those people who spontaneously combust. One minute they’re sitting there, pretty as you please, eating their tuna salad sandwich and then ka-boom. Nothing left of them but some ashes and their shoes.”
Ashes! Maddie jerked around, needing to see for herself the shelf behind her. There it was. She sighed her relief. There was the hideously ugly lobster clock. Celeste hadn’t managed to sell it today. She then addressed Celeste’s silly assertion about people just catching fire for no apparent reason. “That’s ridiculous. You have never read that in any respectable paper. It doesn’t happen.”
Giving Beamer a final pat, Celeste stood up slowly, all creaking joints, and stretched. Then she gasped and pointed. “Maddie! Heads up. Look outside. Mr. Fireball at three o’clock.”
Maddie looked where Celeste pointed. “What? Who?” Then she saw and her heart jumped, her pulse raced, and she felt hot. It was Hank. “Ohmigod.”
She nervously ran her hands through her hair and straightened her apron. But she could have saved herself the effort. Hank walked right on by. He didn’t stop, glance in, wave, anything. Just kept going. Taken aback, and much more disappointed than she cared to acknowledge, even to herself, Maddie stood there frowning.
“I saw you preening for him.”
Maddie jerked her attention to Celeste. “I did not,” she lied, wishing her face didn’t feel so hot.
“Did too.”
“I did not.”
“Did too.”
“Stop it. This is childish.”
“Is not.”
“It is too.” Maddie heard herself and exhaled for calm. “Don’t you have something to do? Something the gainfully employed might engage in during working hours?”
Celeste squinted at her. “Beg pardon?”
This was going nowhere. Maddie glanced at her watch. It was nearly five o’clock. “Quitting time. You go on, Celeste. And I’ll close up.”
Her employee shrugged and began untying her apron. “Don’t have to tell me twice. There’s a hot bingo game tonight at the community center.” Celeste lifted her apron over her head and went to hang it on its wooden peg by the storeroom curtain.
Maddie watched her. The minute Celeste’s back was to her she stared longingly, pleadingly, out the display window.
“Ha. Caught you.”
Maddie jumped guiltily. “Caught me what? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Were too. You were staring out that window and wishing he’d come back.” Maddie’s protest rode her lips but Celeste held up a hand, cutting her off. “Now don’t you go denying it. I see you mooning around here and your look of hope every time that door opens and that little bell tinkles.”
Maddie felt rooted to the spot. Was she that obvious? “I do not.”
Celeste puckered her features prunelike. “I’m not playing that again.”
Before Maddie could say anything, the roar of a motorcycle pulling up at the curb outside caught her attention. Even with his helmet on, Maddie recognized Teddy Millicum. Suspicion became certainty. He was here for Celeste. Maddie turned to the pink-clad Day-Glo dynamo, who was innocently gathering up her purse and sweater. “Celeste McNeer, shame on you. He’s in high school. He’s a child.”
Suddenly all prim and proper, Celeste preached, “Now look who’s got a dirty mind. Teddy’s a sweet boy and a neighbor. He’s giving me rides until my car is fixed. And that’s all, Miss High-and-Mighty. I swear, you and Lavinia Houghton. If you don’t watch out, you’re going to be a tight-assed old biddy just like her one day.” Celeste pulled one arm and then the other through her sweater’s sleeves and straightened it around her. She then bent to pat the dog goodbye.
“Oh, please, Celeste, don’t play Miss Innocent with me. Your car was fixed days ago. You just like riding on the back of that boy’s motorcycle, don’t you?”
Her nose in the air, Celeste strolled toward the front door. “Could be. Good night now.” She opened the door, soundly cursed the tinkling bell, and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
Maddie hurried over to the door, standing a bit to the side of it and watching as the high-school-aged boy handed Celeste a helmet and waited for her to put it on. She did—with practiced ease—and climbed on the motorcycle, settling in behind Teddy. She wrapped her arms around him. With her purse slung over a shoulder, she grinned brightly and, as Teddy pulled away, waved at Maddie. The stinker had known she’d be watching.
Absolutely scandalized, and embarrassed to be caught peeping, Maddie crossed her arms and turned away from the beveled-glass panes set in the door. “I cannot believe that woman.” Maddie heard herself. “Great. Now she has me talking out loud to myself.” Then she remembered: she wasn’t alone in the shop. Half fearful, Maddie glanced around and found the dog.
Beamer lay in front of the card table where Maddie had kept a jigsaw puzzle for James to work while he visited with her. Under the table was a box of James’s belongings from the cottage that Mr. Hardy had brought her, not knowing at the time what else to do with them. Though her heart felt tender at the remembrance of James, Maddie brightened with the realization that she needed to give his things to his grandson, namely Hank Madison. Was that not the most perfect excuse to go looking for him?
Just then Maddie noticed that the dog’s great golden head lay upon a wadded-up old sweater of James’s. Had Beamer pulled it out? Or had Celeste? Maddie sighed, feeling something in her heart soften. The poor dog was grieving. She missed her owner. Come to think of it, she’d barely moved from that spot all day, except for the few times she or Celeste had let her out to attend to her doggy business. Beamer now stared up at Maddie and gave a cautiously hopeful thump of her tail.
A sigh escaped Maddie. “You poor thing. You miss James, don’t you? That’s why you went out to his cottage the other night. Well, I’m sorry for your loss, Beamer. I really am.”
Beamer raised her head. With her ears perked up, she woofed politely at Maddie as if to say thank you. Maddie smiled. “Well, good. At least we got that settled—”
Behind her, the bell above the door tinkled maniacally, alerting Maddie to its being opened. Beamer came to her feet, alert now, her tail wagging. Maddie turned around, the words I’m sorry but we’re closed on her lips. She never said them. Instead, her knees felt weak, her heart thumped. “Hank.”