MACEY REACHED INTO THE BACK SEAT FOR THE GROCERIES SHE’D PICKED up on the way home and noticed a plastic bag sticking out from under the driver’s seat. She pulled it out, frowning, and then remembered it was Keeper’s things from the animal shelter. She walked around back and peered in the window as she tiptoed up the steps. No matter how quiet she tried to be, Keeper was always sitting right by the door cocking his head. “There is no sneaking up on you, is there, mister?” she said, laughing, and he began to swish his tail.
Macey opened the door. “Hey, there, ole pie.” She knelt down in front of him and he pushed his great head into her chest. “It’s always so nice to come home to you,” she whispered, kissing his bowed head and then lifting his chin. “I love you . . . you know that?” She looked into his chocolate-brown eyes and he wiggled all around, giving her wet kisses. “Thank you so much!” she said, laughing.
“Do you need to get busy?” she asked, holding the door. He hopped down the steps, hurried into the yard, took care of business, and came right back. “And now I bet you’re looking for your supper.” She picked up his food bowl, scooped a cup of kibble into it, added a little water, and walked over to put it down next to his water bowl on the new mat she’d bought. Without being asked, Keeper plopped down on his haunches and gazed longingly at his bowl.
“Okay!” she said, and he hopped over and wolfed it down. “I don’t know where you learned to be so polite,” she teased, “you must’ve had a good owner, which reminds me . . .” She opened the plastic bag and looked inside. Soon Keeper, who’d already finished eating, came over and started wagging his tail as she pulled out an old tennis ball and a stuffed animal that looked like a hedgehog. She gave the hedgehog to him, and he immediately started to squeak it. “Oh, boy! Your dad’s going to love that!” she said.
“His dad’s going to love what?” Ben asked, coming through the door.
“A squeaky toy,” Macey said as Keeper hopped over and playfully pushed the stuffed animal into Ben’s crotch.
“Hey, watch that!” Ben said, reaching down to tousle his ears.
He leaned over to give Macey a kiss. “It’s so nice to see you smile . . . and hear you laugh.”
“It feels good to laugh,” she said. “It’s nice to come home to someone who is so happy to see me.”
“Hey! I’m happy to see you.”
“I know, but I usually get home before you, and this time of year, the house is dark.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Well, as soon as the Jackson house is finished, I’ll be home earlier.”
She smiled. “But you still won’t wag your tail.”
“I can wag my tail, if that’s what makes you happy,” Ben teased, swiveling his hips.
“Just kiss me, you fool,” Macey said.
Ben kissed her softly and murmured, “Nice haircut, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Macey said.
Suddenly, her stomach growled and Ben pulled away. “Hungry?” he teased.
“Famished.”
“Well, that’s a good sign. What are we having?” he asked as he emptied his lunch cooler and put his ice pack in the freezer.
“We,” she said as she pulled groceries out of bags, “are having spaghetti and salad.” She set a box of angel hair, a pound of ground sirloin, a can of tomato paste, an onion, and a jar of sauce on the counter.
“With meat sauce?” he asked hopefully, sliding an ice cube across the floor and watching Keeper block it with his foot and chomp it down.
“With meat sauce,” she confirmed, reaching into the utensil drawer for a corkscrew and handing it to him. “Right after you pour some wine for the chef.”
Ben opened a bottle of wine, poured a generous glass, and set it on the counter. “Want help?”
“No, thanks. I got it.”
“Okay,” he said, reaching into the fridge for a beer. “I’m going to shower then.”
She nodded as he opened his beer and headed up the stairs. Then she looked down at Keeper, who was stretched out contentedly in her work area. “That’s all right—don’t mind me, I’ll work around you.” She stepped carefully over him to get her frying pan, set it on the burner, turned the flame to low, drizzled in a tablespoon of olive oil, and while it heated, diced the onion. She scraped the chopped onion into the pan, sipping her wine as it sizzled, and let her thoughts drift back over the day. She thought about all the sick kids she’d seen that day . . . and then she remembered how Janelle had talked about Harper donating to Locks of Love.
A few minutes later, Ben came back downstairs—his hair still wet from showering—and started to throw together the salad. “We’re gonna need more croutons,” he said, dumping the last of the bag onto the washed Romaine and popping two in his mouth.
Macey groaned. “It never fails,” she said with a sigh, jotting a note on the sticky pad she kept in the drawer. “As soon as I get home from the store, I have to start a new list.”
Ben chuckled. “Tell me about it. The same thing happens when I go to Home Depot.”
Macey broke the spaghetti in half, dropped it into the pot, stirred it, and refilled her glass. “How do you think I’d look with short hair?”
Ben looked up from grating fresh Parmesan. He’d learned from experience—although he’d been a painfully slow learner—to proceed with caution when Macey posed odd questions out of the blue. “Hmm,” he said, considering his answer.
She looked up. “That good, huh?”
“No, no,” he said, “I’m just trying to picture you with short hair.” He paused. “I think it would look good . . . I mean you’d look beautiful no matter what,” he added, feeling as if he’d come up with the perfect answer. “Why?”
“Because I was thinking of donating my hair to Locks of Love.”
He frowned. “Locks of Love?”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. “They make hair pieces for kids who have lost their hair due to medical issues, like cancer.”
Ben drizzled dressing onto the salad. “I think you should do it,” he confirmed.
Macey smiled. “I think I will,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.