MICHAEL KNOCKED on Emily’s front door at seven-thirty sharp the next morning. Waiting for her to respond, he looked around with satisfaction.
A light mantle of snow covered the house and yard, making it look like an old-fashioned Christmas card. The weather forecast called for highs in the low fifties today, so all the white stuff would soon melt away.
He’d have arrived earlier, but he hadn’t thought she’d appreciate it. He knew he’d manipulated and shoved her into something she didn’t want to do but figured the end justified the means. They’d saved that dog. They were therefore responsible for it. He couldn’t let her ignore her part in the rescue, could he?
It finally occurred to him that he’d been standing there on her porch for several minutes. Where was she? Surely she wasn’t still asleep. He knocked again.
He didn’t know Emily well, but now it looked as if that would be rectified. She wasn’t his kind of woman; that much was obvious. But then, he wasn’t her kind of man, either.
She was old-fashioned and he was new fashioned. She was traditional and he was cutting edge. She liked old houses—obviously—and for him, the newer and more modern the better. She—
Some slight sound inside caught his attention. He frowned and strained to hear. What was going on in there?
Tentatively he reached out to give the door a little shove—just a little one. It promptly swung wide to reveal a sight he wouldn’t soon forget.
There stood Emily, wearing a long white nightgown, her hair a dark cloud around her shoulders. She clutched a black cat in her arms, or maybe the cat clutched her. She was kicking a small bare foot at the grungy dog cavorting around her.
“Dog!” Michael spoke sternly. “Get over here!” He pointed to a spot on the flowered carpet right in front of him.
With a joyous yelp, Dog dashed to Michael and right on out the door. Unfortunately, Michael had failed to close the front gate and Dog didn’t even slow down.
“Good riddance!” Emily’s voice was full of fire. “If I never see that animal again, it’ll be too soon!”
Right away, Michael recognized a couple of things: she’d had a bad night and her morning was worse. “Not to worry!” he exclaimed, starting after Dog. “Go get yourself a cup of coffee and pour me one, too, because I’ll be right back.” He stepped onto the porch.
“Don’t hurry!”
And Emily slammed the door behind him with a little more vigor than necessary.
EMILY WAS TAKING A PAN of cinnamon rolls out of the oven when Michael barged through the kitchen door, a wiggling Dog clutched under his arm. He looked flushed and disheveled, which pleased her more than a little.
“Well, hell,” she said. “You caught him.”
“Or he caught me,” Michael grunted, putting the animal on the kitchen floor. “He’s a speedy little devil.”
“You must be, too, or he’d still be at large.” She eyed the dog with disapproval. “I wish.”
“At the risk of leaping to conclusions—” he pulled out a chair and plopped into it “—did you have a bad morning?”
“And night. That blasted mongrel got me up at least a half-dozen times. I don’t know what his problem was. I let him out, I let him in, I fed him every slice of bologna in my refrigerator, I gave him water, I—” Her frustration burst its bounds. “I sang to him. I sang lullabies to that miserable beast and he just howled.” Her shoulders slumped. “At least now I know why someone dumped his miserable carcass in a Dumpster.”
“Emily Patton, you don’t mean that.”
“I certainly—” all the air went out of her attack “—don’t.” She glared at the man. “But I wish I did. That dog is a spawn of hell, sent to punish me for every rotten thing I’ve ever done.”
“Which would amount to what? Fudging an inch off a yard of fabric?” But his smile was sympathetic. “You know, I’m perfectly willing to listen to you rant and rave just as long as you want me to, but I would appreciate a cup of coffee while I’m doing it. And maybe one of those cinnamon rolls? My mouth is already watering.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. When it became obvious I wasn’t going to get any sleep, I figured I might as well accomplish something.” She poured his coffee, topped off her own cup and brought the pan of rolls to the table along with saucers and forks.
The rolls did look good, she thought: huge circles dark with cinnamon and frosted with thick white icing that reminded her of snow. One just about filled a saucer.
Michael dug in with his fork. At the first taste, his eyes closed in ecstasy. “This has got to be the best thing I ever ate,” he breathed, his tone respectful. “How do you do it, Emily?”
He was obviously trying to butter her up by changing the subject. “Surely that’s a rhetorical question,” she said haughtily. “I do it with a recipe and an oven.”
He sighed blissfully. “And a lot of talent. You could make a whole lot of money by selling these.”
“I sell fabric and crafts. That’s plenty.” But she did feel somewhat mollified, now that Dog had settled down at Michael’s feet and closed his eyes. Then she remembered something he’d said the previous night, something that had come back to her during those long dark hours of dog-duty. “Why didn’t you have a dog when you were a kid?” she asked. “If you had, you probably wouldn’t be all worked up about this miserable animal now.”
“That’s entirely possible.” He gave her his most charming smile, the one he regularly pulled out for judges and jurors. “May I have another roll?”
She shoved the pan toward him. “Take all you want. If you’ll answer my question, that is.”
He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “My mother didn’t like animals as pets,” he said then. “In fact, she didn’t like animals much, period.”
“That must have been tough, considering that your father was a rancher.”
“It was tough.” He stopped eating finally, half a cinnamon roll remaining on his saucer. “My mother moved me into town with her when I was five. Dad worked the ranch while she practiced law. Since we lived in an apartment, there was no room for a pet.”
“But you wanted one.” Her feelings toward him at that moment softened almost imperceptibly. She could see the little boy he was, begging his mother for a pet. She could imagine his mother, the sleek counselor-at-law, refusing with a lecture about why he should be grateful to be denied.
Everybody in town knew Liz Forbes was a shark, a cold potato. Up until this very moment, Emily had thought Michael was a chip off that old block.
His father was something else.
John Forbes’s life had ended when his son was in his early twenties. A well-respected man of strong character, the senior Forbes had remained married to a woman who apparently valued him considerably less than her career until the day he died.
Less than a year later, Liz Forbes had moved away. Emily had never known where.
Michael picked up his cup. “I suppose all kids want pets,” he said in a more detached manner. “I hadn’t thought about that in years until…”
She reheated his coffee. “Until what?”
“Finding old Dog in the Dumpster was kind of a wake-up call for me,” he said. “I’ve been needing something or someone to think about beside myself and my career.” He grimaced. “I hate to admit I’ve been leading a very self-centered life but—I have been leading a very self-centered life.”
“Then I guess you need this dog.” He was getting to her. She didn’t like the softness she heard in her voice and added more briskly, “I, on the other hand, don’t.”
“You’re a goddess for helping me out this way.” He sought to soothe her. “You won’t be sorry, Em. You’ll see. Look at him. He’s not really such a bad dog, is he?”
She didn’t want to look at Dog, but she couldn’t help it. He lay on the floor under the table, his chin on his paws and those big soulful eyes peering up at them. When he had their attention, his tail began flopping against the floor.
Emily groaned. “It’s not going to be that easy,” she said. “After the night he put me through—”
“Tonight will be different,” Michael promised. “He’ll have a doghouse and a bed all his own. He’ll—”
“Tell it to Rosie and Patches. He’s scared them both out of ten years’ growth.”
He walked to the counter to refill his coffee cup. “For some reason, I thought you had more than two cats.”
“You’re probably thinking of Tom. Nobody owns Tom. He’s a stray who deigns to drop by the shop when he’s in the neighborhood. He’s never come home with me and it’s a darn good thing. He’s half as big as Dog and twice as tough.”
“I don’t know about that. I think Dog’s plenty tough.” Putting the cup on the table, Michael leaned over to ruffle the dog’s head affectionately.
“Whatever. I just want to be perfectly clear about one thing. I will not go through another night like that.”
“You won’t have to. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” she snapped.
“Yeah, I can. I’ll make sure he’s settled for the night before I leave.”
“Before you—?”
The wall phone rang and she rose. “Before you leave? I don’t recall inviting—Hello?”
“Emily!”
“Hi, Thalia. Wow, you sure sound happy.”
“I am! Can we get together for lunch today? I’ll bring something from the Paper Sack, if it’s okay.”
“Sure.” Emily couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face. “You wouldn’t have any news for me, would you?”
“Me? Whatever are you suggesting?” Thalia clicked off on a happy trill of laughter.
Emily hung up the phone. “I have a feeling Thalia won’t be going back to California anytime soon,” she predicted.
“How so?” He sounded only mildly interested.
“I think she and Luke have reached an understanding.”
“What understanding? You mean…like…?”
“You got it, Sherlock. As in marriage. I strongly suspect he proposed last night.”
“Poor sap.” But he said it cheerfully. “Can I have another of those cinnamon rolls for the road?”
“Be my guest.” Grabbing a paper towel from the roll mounted over the sink, she placed it before him, then lifted the last of the rolls off the baking sheet and plopped them down on the paper. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get ready for work.”
“I don’t mind.” He rose, taking the paper-wrapped parcel with him. “I’ll put Dog out in the yard.”
“Good.”
“And I’ll come back and feed him just as soon as the pet store opens.”
“Good.”
“And I’ll come back tonight and make sure he settles down in his new home.”
“Okay, but how you think you can do that is beyond me.”
“Trust me.” He lingered at the door. “Thanks for everything, Emily.”
“I’d say it was nothing but I’d be lying.”
A broad grin lit up his face and she found herself thinking that he really should smile more often.
“See you later, then.” he said. Tsk-tsking to Dog, he let them both out into the backyard and closed the door.
Only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“WE’RE ENGAGED!”
Emily had already guessed that. In case she hadn’t, Thalia’s sparking smile would have been a tip-off.
“I’m so happy for you!” They hugged, and Emily added, “But not surprised.”
“I am.” Thalia set the sandwiches from the Paper Sack on the table of the small lounge area at the Sew Bee It. “I really, really didn’t expect it, but I took a chance anyway. I tore up my airplane ticket!”
“You didn’t!”
Thalia nodded. “Even if he hadn’t proposed, I was prepared to hang around and see what developed. Because—” a faint pink tinged her cheeks “—I think I’ve loved him always.”
Emily melted. “Thalia, that’s beautiful.”
Thalia sighed blissfully. “It’s true. You know how it was when I was sixteen.”
“I remember it well.”
“I never got over that first crush. Somewhere along the line, it changed into love. I’m so happy I can hardly stand it!”
“I see that.” Emily couldn’t look at her friend without smiling. Until she yawned.
“You’re bored?” Thalia inquired, tongue in cheek.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Me, neither. What’s your excuse?”
How to begin? Emily pondered for a moment, then said, “I’ve got temporary custody of this dog.”
Thalia’s eyes widened. “You? A dog?” She opened the brown bag and began pulling out sandwiches.
“I’m a victim of circumstances. See, Michael and I were walking home after the meeting last night—”
“Michael Forbes?” Thalia took a bite of ham and cheese.
Emily nodded. “—and we heard—”
“Why was he walking you home? Where was your car? Where was his car?”
“My car was home where I left it,” Emily said impatiently. “I just felt like walking to the meeting last night. Is there a problem with that?”
“Oh, you’re really testy. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Emily let out a dejected breath. She was not only sorry, she was exhausted. “Anyway, Michael saw me leave and came after me to see if I knew where you and Luke had disappeared to. When he found out I was walking home, he insisted on going along.”
“That was nice of him.”
“I thought it was presumptuous of him.” Emily glared at her tuna on wheat. “Anyway, I’m making a short story long. As we were passing the Sew Bee It, we heard noise coming from the Dumpster in the back alley. It turned out to be a dog.”
“How awful.” Thalia frowned. “But how lucky for the dog that two such compassionate souls happened to be passing by.”
“I suppose.” Emily put the sandwich back on the table. “The thing is, Michael is completely smitten with this dog.”
“Is it cute?”
“Lord, no!”
“Lovable?”
“Well trained?”
“That dog doesn’t know sic ’em.”
“Does this dog like cats?”
“Only for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“Then I guess it’s the old underdog syndrome,” Thalia said. “Who’d have expected that from Michael?”
“Who, indeed. The thing is, he’s conned me into putting up that dog until he can move to a place that allows pets.”
Thalia frowned. “That sounds a bit open-ended.”
Emily felt panic rise. “You’re right.” She shivered. “Look, I’m sorry I dumped on you about this. Let’s forget my troubles and turn to more pleasant things. Like when do you and Luke plan to get married?”
“We haven’t set a date. He’s in a hurry, though.”
“And you’re not?”
Thalia laughed. “I guess I am,” she admitted. “But I want to do it right this time. Last time was just a justice-of-the-peace thing. I want to marry Luke in a church in front of God and everybody.”
“I have visions of a white wedding gown,” Emily began.
“Not the second time around!”
“Why not? I could do something really special for you in an off-white or even in a peach.”
“You mean make it yourself? You’d do that for me?”
“Oh, Thalia, I’d do that and more! Let’s go through the pattern books and see what you like.”
And so they did, without a thought to lunch or dogs or conniving men.
EMILY HAD ACTUALLY FORGOTTEN that this was Halloween until one of her customers mentioned it. Thus reminded, she stopped off at the grocery store on her way home and picked up several bags of candy—her own favorite kinds in case any was left over after the trick-or-treaters came around.
Carol, one of her clerks, always locked up on Thursdays, leaving Emily free to enjoy the junior goblins and ghosts who were sure to drop by. She always looked forward to seeing the children, but tonight she was so tired she just wanted it over with as quickly as possible.
Dog met her at the front gate, jumping up and down in a frenzy of excitement. A sharp word sent him slinking away, which only made her feel guilty. Once inside the house, she checked on the cats’ food and water, then passed through to the backyard to make sure Michael had done everything he’d promised.
He had.
An imposing doghouse shaped like an Eskimo igloo graced one corner of the small yard. Before it rested two shiny stainless steel bowls, one filled with water and the other with a few nibbles of dog food. The ground around this arrangement looked as if it had been trampled by a herd of wild horses, all trace of snow wiped away by the patter of great big dog feet.
The owner of those dog feet came galloping up, flinging droplets of mud in every direction. Drooling, he leaned down to lick her boots.
“Stop that, Dog!” She batted at him and tried to slip back inside the house. He was too quick for her, unfortunately, and managed to slide inside while almost knocking her down in the process.
“Dog! Come back here!” She took off after him, swearing under her breath. This was not starting out to be her best Halloween.
“TRICK OR TREAT!”
Emily looked down at the little masked figure before her, noting his broad grin. She grinned back.
“Davy Robinson, is that you?”
“It’s a monster!”
Karen Robinson, standing behind her five-year-old son, patted his shoulder fondly. “I don’t know where this monster came from,” she said, “but he insisted we come to your house first, Emily.”
“I’m honored.” She reached inside the orange plastic pumpkin and pulled out a big handful of candy. “Is this what you want, Davy—I mean, Mr. Monster?”
Davy shook his head a firm no and stepped back. “I want to know if I can play with your new dog,” he announced.
“That might not be a good idea. You see, he isn’t really mine. He’s just…he’s just visiting.”
Davy frowned beneath the paint. “But I like dogs. Please, Ms. Patton? Please? Can I play with your dog?”
“Don’t whine, Davy,” his mother said reprovingly. “Take the candy and say thank-you.”
Davy thrust out his lower lip but did as directed. “I still want to play with that dog,” he said, his mouth quivering.
Karen looked around. “Where is the dog, by the way?”
“I tied him to the doghouse so he wouldn’t wipe out all my trick-or-treaters,” Emily explained. “He’s a nice dog, I guess, but he’s got no manners at all.”
“I don’t care,” Davy piped up. “I just want to play with him.” He walked away muttering under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said to Karen. “I don’t know that dog well enough to vouch for him.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Karen advised, steering her child back to the sidewalk. “Davy just loves all dogs.”
Like someone else I could name, Emily thought, watching the approach of the next batch of costumed kids. Maybe when she got to know Dog better she’d like him herself.
Or maybe not.
“Trick or treat!”
And she was off again, dispensing sugar.
IT DIDN’T TAKE MICHAEL LONG to realize he’d made a tactical error.
He’d timed the departure from his office to coincide with what he guessed would be dinnertime at Emily’s house. Surely she’d take the hint and feed him, since he was willing to skip his own dinnertime to take care of Dog.
But as he drove through the streets of Shepherd’s Pass, he realized that they were much busier than usual—busier with ghosts and goblins and all kinds of costumed children.
Halloween.
Jeez, he didn’t even like Halloween. His mother had never let him have a costume or go trick-or-treating, anyway, calling it legalized extortion. As an adult, he usually locked himself in his office until it was over, because there was no way he was going to be responsible for all that tooth rot.
He pulled up to the curb in front of Emily’s house just as a gaggle of kids rang her doorbell. Walking up behind them, he heard the giggles and the repartee and wondered what the heck could possess a grown woman to lower herself this way.
Candy in hand, the trick-or-treaters parted to flow around him like water around a rock. They were happy, he saw, out of all proportion with what they were doing.
He looked up to find Emily glaring at him.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said
“I told you I’d be here.”
“Apparently I forgot.”
The hell she had. “I promised to take care of Dog,” he reminded her. “The only thing is, I forgot it’s Halloween.”
That admission seemed to soften her. “I did, too. Someone had to remind me.” She stepped aside to let him enter the house. “Look,” she said, handing him the bowl of candy, “I’ve got a chicken on the stove. Will you handle the door while I check it?”
He was torn. He had no interest in paying off pint-sized desperados but on the other hand, he did have an interest in anything she might have on the stove.
Maybe he’d get lucky and nobody would ring the bell.
“Okay,” he agreed without enthusiasm. “But—”
A bell pealed, followed by a pounding on the door.
“Get that, will you?” Turning, she walked away, leaving him in charge.
It was going to be a bumpy night.
EMILY DID IT ON PURPOSE.
One look at Michael told her he was not a “Halloween person,” and he should be. Everyone should be. It was fun to joke around with the kids in their costumes, some extravagant and some cobbled together at the last minute.
Plus, she really did have a chicken on the stove. Later, when the crowd thinned out, she’d whip up a batch of dumplings, add a salad and fresh broccoli, and…
Feed him. Darn it, she felt almost obligated to give him dinner, although she shouldn’t. With Dog barking and howling in the backyard, kind thoughts were misplaced. Bustling around her kitchen, she reminded herself that this was all Michael’s doing. Why should she feel any obligation toward him at all? She could always change her mind, she reminded herself. She didn’t have to invite him to eat with her.
Especially if he was in there being surly to the children of Shepherd’s Pass. Stopping stock-still with a long wooden spoon in her hand, she suddenly realized she might have made a mistake.
Dropping the spoon, she hurried back to the living room just in time to find Michael opening the door.
He peered at the trio of kids on the front step. “What’s going on here?” he demanded with apparent seriousness.
“Trick or treat!” the kids chorused, holding out their goodie bags.
“I’ve got the treats, all right,” Michael admitted. “Let me see your tricks first. If they’re any good—”
“Tricks?” The cowboy frowned at the pirate. “What kinda trick?”
“I don’t know what you can do,” Michael said reasonably. “Can you sing or dance?”
The kids looked flummoxed; from the shadows behind them, a giggle emerged—a mother enjoying the exchange, no doubt.
“I can sing,” the cowboy said at last.
“Then let’s hear you.”
“‘Home, home on the range…’”
“Hey,” Michael said when the song came to a conclusion. “That was great. You guys get the special stuff.” Digging into the bowl, he pulled out great handfuls of candy to drop into the proffered bags. He added, “Happy Halloween,” a wish echoed from the shadows by the watchful mother, then closed the door.
Turning, he looked surprised to find Emily standing there. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said.
“You were busy. Where did that stuff about tricks come in?”
“It’s half of trick-or-treat, isn’t it?”
“But the idea is, if you don’t give them treats they’ll do tricks you won’t like.”
He looked skeptical. “Like what?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. I always do give them treats and so does everyone else. I guess it would be stuff like throwing eggs or draping toilet paper around the yard.”
“Anyone tries that and they’ll find their little butts in big trouble.”
She had to laugh at his intensity. “Michael, I’m getting very strong vibes that you somehow managed to miss out on many of the joys of childhood.”
“Yeah, maybe I did.”
His answer surprised her. It also made it even harder to remain detached. She couldn’t resist saying, “Not so bad, handing out the treats, is it?”
“No.” He cocked his head and grinned ruefully. “Especially if I can have a few of your leftovers. Like these—” He held up a miniature candy bar. “This happens to be my favorite, so I kinda pulled them over to one side to hand out last.”
She laughed. “Strangely enough, that’s my favorite, too, which is why there are so many of them. But I’ll share.”
“I’ll bet you always do,” he said with what sounded like approval. “In that case—” He pulled the outer wrapper off the small bar of chocolate and nuts.
“Don’t eat that now,” she said quickly. “You’ll spoil your—”
Damn! She wasn’t going to do that.
Too late. He brightened. “Are you inviting me to dinner?”
She sighed. “I guess I am.”
“In that case—”
The doorbell rang. He shrugged and turned away. “Don’t start eating without me.” He opened the door to a princess and a bumblebee, who shouted “trick or treat!” in unison.