“I do not understand what just happened.” Riley’s rigged-up poodle-like ears drooped, and she scratched her waist where the tutu dug in.
Grams took her through it one more time, and of course Riley was happy for Grams. She knew she should be totally happy. Wasn’t this everything she’d wanted since Caleb first set foot on the Dorothy’s property? But things had changed since then. She’d changed. Frosty reception from his mother or not, she’d started thinking of Caleb’s plans for the Dorothy as their plans. Our plans.
“Grams, what’re you going to do with the Dorothy?”
“First”—she checked off her points one finger at a time—“I’m going to fire those lazy, no-good property managers at Rainy Day. Second, I’m going to hire you to run everything. Third, I’m throwing a party the likes of which the Dorothy hasn’t seen in decades. Fourth”—she turned to fix a glare on Grandpa William—“I am not inviting him.”
“Okay, that sounds like a really thought-out plan.” Not as thought-out, of course, as Caleb’s with his blueprints and architect consultations and brother the contractor. And of course, Caleb’s plan lacked the glamour of a major party. That was how Grams was, though, very big picture. So big she hadn’t maybe thought out issues of financing and renovations, but Grams was looking so smugly happy that Riley decided now was not the time to bring up real-world considerations. There’d be plenty of time to pop that bubble later.
For now, Sydney was calling everyone over to announce the costume contest winners, a job Riley was happy not to have. How to choose between the pair of whippets dressed as race horses with plush jockeys on their backs or Lady in her Viking helmet complete with horns and long orange braids? The Pomeranian dressed as a cheerleader or the midsize mutt with a dinosaur costume? Truly above her pay grade. While Sydney talked about how amazing every dog looked, Riley pulled out her phone and texted Caleb.
Hey. Come back. Don’t you want to know who won?
No response.
“Of course,” Sydney was saying, “none of this would be possible if not for the generosity and work of a few key people. Riley, come on up here. And where’s Caleb? Caleb Donovan, everyone, let’s thank him for our wonderful new Fur Haven Dog Park!”
Sydney’s thanking you. Everyone’s clapping. You should really come back.
Delivered, but not even a blinking three dots to indicate an attempted response. Just her own words staring back at her.
“Riley, want to say a few words?” Sydney thrust the bullhorn at her.
“No, I don’t.” She shoved it away, but Sydney was insistent. “Okay, then a few words. Thanks to everyone who helped make today possible. And Sydney is right; Caleb deserves the lion’s share of praise. Or should I say doggy’s share? Unfortunately, he was called away a few minutes ago, but I know he’d want you to enjoy the day. Have you had one of those caramel apples? My goodness.” She shoved the bullhorn back at Sydney and checked her phone again. Still nothing.
She marched over to Grandpa William, poking him in the chest like Grams had. “I hope you’re happy. This is all your fault.”
“Isn’t it always?” he mumbled, leaning on his cane. “Young lady, enjoy your grandmother’s building. It has a lot of potential.”
“So does your grandson, but I’m not surprised you’d give up on him. You handed the Dorothy over for five bucks. You’re clearly not a man who values anything but your own convenience.”
Grandpa William blanched, and Riley felt a twinge of guilt. He was an old man, after all, and she’d been pretty harsh, but as she walked away, she heard Grams saying, “That’s my granddaughter. She has a good point, don’t you think, Billy?”
He mumbled something in reply, but Riley didn’t hear. She was already texting Sydney to ask her to keep an eye on LouLou while she went Caleb hunting.
* * *
“You were robbed.” Grams’ grip on her elbow surprised Riley and kept her from sprinting out of the park in search of Caleb. Grams’ pumpkin-colored nails with black cobweb designs on the thumbs and ring fingers dug into Riley’s skin. “No one was cuter than you and your little poodle. A visual pun! What were those judges thinking, giving it to some mutt in a ladybug costume?”
“French bulldog puppies are the cutest things ever.” Riley tried to peel Grams’ fingers off one by one, but Grams wasn’t having it. She leaned on Riley’s arm as if she needed support. Riley suspected it was an act, but what if it wasn’t? Grams’ fall wasn’t that long ago, and it had been a tiring day. “Do you want to go home?”
“And miss all this? Not for the world. Walk me over to the booth with Dr. Morrow’s daughter running things. What does she do again? Something with those old racing greyhounds?”
Riley slowed her pace to match Grams’, her silent phone burning a hole in her pocket. “She’s the rescue coordinator. After the tracks were closed, thousands of dogs needed homes. She’s been rehabilitating and training them at the rescue center. You want to meet a few of them? They are the sweetest things.”
“I suppose.” Grams walked even slower, either a ploy to keep Riley at her side or a genuine sign of fatigue. Riley wasn’t sure anymore what was drama and what was aging. Those hours in the ER waiting room had changed everything. She needed to keep a close eye on Grams to make sure she didn’t overdo it. Caleb was a big boy. He would either text her back or not. Maybe he needed some space.
Riley’s gut clenched at the thought. In her experience, needing space was a precursor to breaking up. Were they even really a couple? Sure, he’d been staying over more nights than not, but it’d barely been a month. Did what they were doing count as dating?
“Gloria! Riley!” Danielle stepped around the table to hug both of them. Danielle had been a few years ahead of Riley in school, but her petite stature, barely topping five foot three, and rounded cheeks always made her look younger. Danielle’s father had been the veterinarian for Grams’ many cats over the years, and Riley had grown up sitting in his waiting room to learn diagnoses for various feline illnesses. Danielle’d spent most of her high-school and college summers working for her dad. “How’s the Prince? I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“He says hello,” Grams said with the authority of someone who knows her cat is perfectly capable of speaking English but simply chooses not to. “He is not fond of the new diet your father put him on, though.”
“I bet! Riley, how have you been?”
“Good, good.” Riley’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She snatched it out of her pocket, eager for Caleb’s response. But it was only the CVS robotext reminding her to pick up Grams’ medication. She thought about pretending it was something more serious back at the Dorothy, but before she could form a vague response that would give the impression she was needed elsewhere while not telling an outright lie, William Donovan walked up to the booth.
“What do we have here?” He pointed at the array of photos spread across the table, tapping one of an older greyhound with a graying muzzle and obviously crooked knees.
“These are our retired racers ready for adoption. That guy is a special one. A retired champion. Unfortunately, his advanced arthritis makes it difficult for him to get around, and they were going to put him down. My dad and I got there in time to save him.”
William’s eyes scanned the table but landed back on the old dog. “What’s his name?”
“We’ve been calling him Pops. He’s eight years old, which is getting up there for a greyhound.”
“And people can just adopt them?”
Danielle smiled and picked up Pops’s paper, putting it in William’s hand. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. We do a home visit to make sure it’s safe for the dog, interview the potential owner, that sort of thing. But if everything checks out, yes, people can just adopt them.”
“I’ve never had a dog.” William studied the paper, even taking out a pair of reading glasses to read the small print under the photo. “What kind of home does a dog like this need?”
“Usually, greyhounds need lots of space to stretch their legs, but his arthritis, especially in his knees, pains him, so he’d be happy in a low-activity household. To tell you the truth, I think he’d be the perfect companion for someone older, someone who might understand the challenges of his condition.” Danielle gave a pointed look to William’s cane.
Grams snorted. “Don’t give this man a dog. He doesn’t know how to take care of anything or anyone.”
“His foster home isn’t too far from here. Want me to give them a call and see if they can bring him to meet you?” Danielle was all smiles and sweetness, but she was clearly intent on closing this deal in spite of Grams’ attempts at intervention.
Grams snorted again, loud enough that William offered her a handkerchief from his pocket, but she turned her nose up at it.
“Young lady,” he said to Danielle, “I think I would like to meet this dog.”
“Stars above, what a bad idea this is.” But Grams didn’t act like she was going anywhere.
“Wonderful!” Danielle was on her phone in seconds, brandishing the text reply proudly when it came in. “They’re on their way!”
“I need to go!” Riley extracted herself from Grams’ death grip. She did not have the time to oversee a whole adoption sequence. Hard as it was to picture Caleb’s grandpa with any kind of pet, she hoped for Pops’s sake that it worked out. “It was great to see you, Danielle! You do such good work for the greyhounds.”
“You don’t want to meet Pops?” Danielle was already pulling up more pictures of Pops to show William.
“I’ll be back. I just have a—” Riley pulled out her phone and rushed away. No texts from Caleb. Should she send him another message? She didn’t want to be a nag. If he wanted to talk to her, he would. There wasn’t really anything she could do if he was avoiding her. But she also couldn’t stay at the dog park like everything was fine. He’d run away from his big triumph. He should be here to enjoy it.
Your grandpa’s going to adopt a dog.
There, that wasn’t naggy, and it was true. Speak now or forever hold your peace.
See? She could be funny, too. But the screen stayed blank. She tried to think of the scene between William and Grams from Caleb’s point of view. How disappointed he must be. It wasn’t his fault his brothers weren’t interested in William’s plan. He’d done the best he could with the situation, and looking around her at the happy neighbors and happier dogs, he’d done a damn good job.
What had gone wrong? She needed to analyze the situation, and then she needed to fix it. Not only for Caleb but Grams, too.
In fact, she doubled back for Grams. “Come on. We need to discuss a few things.”
“Oh, you’ve got your serious face on. You wouldn’t be so glum if you’d won the costume parade. I’m going to have a talk with that Sydney friend of yours.”
“We’re going to talk. All of us. You, me, Sydney, Eliza.”
“Right! Now that I own the building, we should tell Eliza to drop the lawsuit.”
“Among other things.” Riley whipped out her phone and started texting. As soon as the Howling Halloween dog park party was over, they were having a major powwow. Or should she say bowwow? She smiled at her own joke before sending the calendar invite. Before that meeting, though, she and Grams were going to have a serious conversation.