“I’m quitting, Rose Petal,” Mr. Duffy said.
“Quitting?”
Mr. Duffy nodded.
“This job?” Rose asked.
He nodded again.
Then all the worry that had been swirling around Rose for so long came crashing down.
Boom!
She sat in Mr. Duffy’s desk chair and sobbed.
Mr. Duffy put his hands on the arm of the chair and said, “Don’t cry, Rosie. It’s not the end of the world.”
But it felt like the end of the world to Rose.
At least, the end of her world. She couldn’t imagine Magnolia Estates without Mr. Duffy.
“Aw, now, you don’t need to be hanging around an old whomper-jawed geezer like me,” he said. “You got yourself a fine new friend in Mavis.”
But Rose kept sobbing, taking big gulps of air and swiping at her tearstained face.
Mr. Duffy continued in a soft voice.
He was too old for this job, he said.
He had outlived his usefulness with this job, he told her.
He might as well get out while the gettin’ was good, he explained.
“I never really did feel like the folks behind this gate took a shine to me,” he said. “I reckon I’ve always felt like I was hanging around like a hair in a biscuit. You know, not fitting in with these uppity folks.” Then he gave Rose’s shoulders a little shake. “Not that your folks are uppity, Rosie. They raised a fine girl like you, so that means something in my book.”
Rose’s head was spinning, and her heart was breaking.
The day had come.
Mr. Duffy was leaving.
“But wait’ll you hear the good part,” he said, giving her knee a little poke.
Rose wiped her nose and looked at him through teary eyes. “What good part?”
“The part about my new job,” he said.
“What new job?”
“At Wonderland!”
“Wonderland?”
Mr. Duffy nodded. “Wonderland.”
Then he went on to explain that Wonderland was closing and that the bald man, Roger, needed help finding homes for all the greyhounds there.
“We’re gonna be busier than a moth in a mitten,” he said.
“But why is Wonderland closing?” Rose asked.
“Well, you know, dog racing just ain’t that popular anymore,” Mr. Duffy said. “A lot of folks think those dogs don’t have such a good life, cooped up in kennels half the dang day. Spraining their knees and working so hard.”
He glanced over at Henry, asleep on Queenie’s bed beside the desk. “Dogs need homes with folks who love ’em and give ’em tuna fish sandwiches once in a while. They need to sleep on a couch and have room to run free and chase real rabbits instead of fake ones around in circles on that dang racetrack.”
He gazed out the window and nodded. “This is a good thing for those dogs.” Turning back to Rose, he added, “And the job’s only two days a week. Just think about all the fishing time me and Henry are gonna have.”
“You and Henry?”
“Well, yeah, you know, till I find somebody to adopt him,” Mr. Duffy said. “And I’ll be able to make sure he gets a good home.”
“But what if you don’t like that job?” Rose said. “Will you come back?”
Mr. Duffy leaned down and took Rose’s chin in his hand. It was warm and smelled faintly of fish. “The corn’s off the cob, Rosie. Too late to come back.”
Then the two of them sat for a while, not talking.
Just listening to Henry snore, until Rose said, “I better go.”