Griff pulled up and parked his car on the street next to the small, Victorian house. Kids were playing kickball in a yard next door. He could hear them yelling and the sound of the soft ball being whacked. He’d played kickball with Kathy’s kids a thousand times when they were growing up. It was the easiest sport to use to get them started. They’d loved it and so had he.
His mind flew back to the day Kathy, Wes, and the kids had left. He didn’t want to remember, but the memories came nonetheless.
“It has to last you a long time, young lady,” Griff said, giving his niece a hug.
“Aren’t you coming to visit soon, like you promised?”
“We’ll see.”
She made a pouty face. “You always say that when you mean ‘no’.” She stamped her foot, crossed her arms, and glared at him.
“Missy Marie Thomas, have you walked Pookie and given your suitcase to Wes?” Kathy shooed the thirteen-year-old outside.
“Where’s Joey?” Griff glanced around the living room. Quite a few pieces of furniture were on their way to San Francisco, making the room feel naked. Kathy’s new husband, Wes Emerson, had taken a position with Global Tech and was taking his new family with him.
“It’s Joe, now, Uncle Griff.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, sorry. I forgot.” He ruffled the fifteen-year-old’s hair. At six four, Griff stood almost a whole head taller than the teen. He pulled the boy to him for a quick squeeze. Tears stung at the back of his eyes.
“Please check on your sister. She’s supposed to be walking Pookie.”
Joe nodded, waved to his uncle, and left.
“Now, you, mister.” His sister rested her hands on her hips.
“I’ll be fine, Kathy.”
“I want you to have your own life, for a change. Get married. Have kids.”
“Wave your magic wand and make Miss Perfect appear.” He chuckled.
“Mom! Come on. We’re ready,” Joe called.
Blinking rapidly, Kathy embraced her brother. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t cover it, Griff. I…I…”
“I know,” he said, patting her on the back.
In an instant, she was down the stairs, tucked safely in the front seat while Wes maneuvered the overloaded car out of the driveway. Griff stood at the window. He raised his hand and rested it on the glass. A pain shot through his chest. His breathing became shallow as a lump in his throat cut off his air. Silence overwhelmed him.
The same pain returned as he watched the children play. As if it were yesterday, not a month ago. How long before I get past it? Maybe never.
“You must be that new fella looking to rent my place.” A small, slightly round woman with short, brown hair stood on the lawn, wiping her hands on an apron.
“Yep. That’s me. This your place?” He turned his gaze to the neat, quaint house, painted dark teal blue with cream trim. The small porch had a rocking chair, and the pointed roof added charm.
“It is. Rent’s three thousand a month. Due on the first. You got kids?” She looked him up and down.
“Nope.”
“Good. The house is full of antiques. My husband and I collect. We have a shop, too. Wouldn’t want kids running around breaking stuff. Any pets?”
Griff shook his head.
“Perfect. Come on in.” He followed her inside. The little bell on the front door took his attention, but only for a second. The mouth-watering aroma of baking bread engulfed him. I’ll take it.
“What are you making?”
“Pullman loaf. My husband’s favorite.”
“You own this, but live somewhere else?”
“Yep. We have a bigger one with a shop on the ground floor. It’s nearer the turnpike. You’ve probably passed it. Amy’s Antiques?”
He nodded, not sure he remembered, but wanting to be polite. The small living room had a fireplace with a screen and andirons. The furniture was antique and delicate. His brow furrowed. Can I put my ass on that sofa without breaking it? He joined Amy in the kitchen, where the smell was so strong it made his stomach rumble. She took two pans out of the oven and placed them on a rack.
“Do you need a hand?” he asked.
“Nope. Got it. I’m used to it. Do it all the time.”
The bread had a beautiful, light brown crust on top. Amy gently turned the loaves out onto the counter. “They’ll need a bit to cool. Maybe after we look upstairs, they’ll be cool enough to give you a slice. Would you like that?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never had homemade bread before.”
She smiled at him. “That’s fine, then. You look awfully familiar. Should I know you?”
Griff cast his gaze to the floor. “I play pro football. Sometimes, I get in the local papers.”
“That’s it! Now, I recognize you. You’re the guy who wins all those games for the Kings.”
“I don’t win the games. It’s the team. I’m just the quarterback.”
“Crap, don’t be modest. Isn’t the team’s picture I see. It’s yours.” She narrowed her eyes for a long look at him. “And I can see why.”
That made Griff blush. “Maybe we should see upstairs?”
“Of course, of course.” She took off her apron and hung it on a hook then entered a tiny, winding stairway from the kitchen.
“Not sure I can fit in here,” he said, ducking his head.
“These are the back stairs, used by the maid and butler. Yeah. They are kinda small, aren’t they?” She eyed his broad shoulders before she backed out and led him to the front staircase.
They walked through a formal dining room with dark, antique wood furnishings, including a highly polished, oval table and six chairs. Griff glanced at the delicate legs and decided they wouldn’t hold him. But the room had charm, like stepping back in time, and he approved.
The bedrooms upstairs were adequate, though he had serious concerns about the length of the bed in the master suite. It’s only for a few months. Lace curtains, rag rugs, wood floors shined to perfection, and unique, hand-made quilts added the flavor of the period the house was from. Griff thought of it as a giant dollhouse when he had to duck to get through the doorway of the maid’s room in the back.
In the kitchen, Amy sliced off two thick pieces of warm bread. She pulled European butter from the fridge and spread it liberally before offering the plate to Griff. He accepted gladly. He closed his eyes as the first bite melted in his mouth. Amy tore hers in half and took a delicate nibble.
“This is amazing,” he said.
“Thank you. What do you think of the house?”
“It’s beautiful. You’ve got every little detail. I’ll take it.”
She clapped her hands once and grinned. “Great! You’re our first renter. And no worries about you being able to afford the place.”
Griff plucked his checkbook from his back pocket.
“One month’s security and one month’s rent, please.”
He nodded and wrote the check.
“I hope you’ll be very happy here.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Amy took the money and handed him the keys. “You can move in on Monday. Good luck, and I hope you keep winning.”
“Thanks, Amy.” Griff shook her hand. When he got back to the car, he turned and stared at the house. The beauty of and meticulous care given to the little Victorian impressed him. He was looking forward to living in this small, museum-type place so different from his own. Only for a second did he doubt the plans he’d agreed to for a modern renovation.
He shook his head slightly. I’ll be like Alice, after she took the growth pills, squeezing myself into this mini-house. Its charm will be gone by the time my place is done. Still, he viewed it as an adventure and a detour from his usual style. Kathy would approve.
* * * *
Rhode Island
“I’m sorry, Annette, I don’t know when I’m coming back. We’re moving my dad to a nursing home. I can’t do that overnight.”
“The Carpenters need you to work with the architect this week. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Lauren took her lower lip between her teeth. “Do what you gotta do.”
“Della is available. I have to give it to her. I hope you understand.”
Lauren sighed. “I do. I get it.”
“I’m sorry. Hope everything goes well with your dad.”
“Thanks.” Lauren put her cell back in her purse. So much for that commission. She returned to the waiting room at the hospital.
Her big brother stood up and stretched. “How’d that go?”
“Not great.”
Don tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Can my life get any worse? I hope Bob left me enough money to pay the mortgage for a couple of months. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach, making her queasy.
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved,” Don said, moving toward the hallway.
“You go ahead. I’m not hungry.”
He extended his arm, reaching for her hand. “Come on. You don’t have to get anything, but I hate to eat alone. Besides, enough moping.”
Lauren pasted a grin on her face for her brother’s benefit. His warm, dry hand squeezed hers, sending comfort through her. Whenever they’d had to get shots when they were kids, Don would always hold her hand. He’d kid her that she couldn’t make him say “ouch.” She’d focus on squeezing him so hard he’d have to yelp. The shot was over before she could panic. Afterward, he’d feign pain, moaning and groaning, gripping his hand. His antics made her laugh.
Don had always been there for her.
But adult problems couldn’t be handled so easily. Don was married with three sons and a daughter. He had his own stresses and strains. Besides, Lauren knew he couldn’t fix her life, no matter how hard he tried. Still, she was grateful for the concern he showed and the time he carved out of his tight schedule to devote to her and their father.
They sat down to two burgers and Cokes in the hospital cafeteria and talked about the options for their dad, looking over the pamphlets and discussing the advice from the social worker. Next step was visiting the recommended places, picking one, and trying to get him accepted.
That burden would fall on Lauren’s shoulders. Don had to get back to work. He sold cars and couldn’t miss so many days. He had a family to feed. Lauren only had herself and her pug, Zander. Now that she was losing the fat commission on decorating the Carpenter’s house, money would be tight.
She and Bob had been married such a short time that they had agreed to forego alimony. Lauren had gotten the house, Bob had gotten whatever furnishings he had wanted, and they had called it quits. Clean and easy, he had said at the time. She frowned, remembering that conversation. Clean and easy for you, maybe.
There’ll be other commissions. Annette’s place is well known. I’ll survive, even if I have to sell the house. Dad needs me now, and I’ve got to do this right. After lunch, Lauren took her notes, hugged her brother, and met with the social worker one more time.
She spent the next several days listening to doctors, visiting the homes, and reminiscing with her dad. After one week, the hospital gave her the green light to move him. Lauren had filled out the paperwork and waited to hear if the place she liked most would take him.
While she relished the time she spent with her father, looking at him, so shrunken and weak, was upsetting. He had played professional baseball, used to be strong and handsome. Now, he was a shadow of the man she had known, and it made her sad.
She rose early on Wednesday, the day she was to move her dad into the Springfield Residence. She hated the idea. Facing a plate of bacon and eggs at the diner down the block from her motel, her appetite went south. A lump gathered in her throat, closing it to food.
Don breezed through the door, his brows furrowed, his face grim. He slipped into the booth across from her. “Today’s the day.” He motioned to the waitress. She brought a pot of coffee over and filled his mug.
“Yep.” Lauren’s eyes filled.
Don reached over and squeezed her hand before he lifted his cup. “I know, Ferret,” he said, using his childhood nickname for her.
“Don’t call me that.”
He smiled. “Knew I could get a rise out of you. Finish and let’s get this thing over with. Then, let’s get blasted.”
Lauren took a forkful of eggs, finished the bacon, and wiped her lips with the napkin. “Sounds like a plan.”
Don grabbed the check. They piled into his car and drove to the hospital.
* * * *
After four Savage Sunrises, Griff forgot where he was living and walked back to his old home, which was all sealed up. He turned around and headed to Mott Street, where the little Victorian rested. On the way, he passed a dark house and spied something moving by the back door.
A groundhog? A large rat? Curiosity coupled with alcohol emboldened him to move closer. The figure shifted, turning to face him. It uttered a low, threatening growl.
Griff stopped short. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out the form of a small dog. He took another step, and the pup started to bark. He peered into the shadows and made out the stubbed nose of a pug. By now, the canine was barking furiously. Griff backed up. As he continued on his way, the animal quieted and lay down, still watching him.
The next morning, he threw on his running gear and returned to the empty house to see if the pooch was still there. Curled up next to the back steps was the pug, which jumped up and began barking at Griff again. He looked in the windows and didn’t see any signs of life. There was little furniture, and no car in the driveway.
He frowned. “Went off and left ya, did they?”
The racket continued then the little creature sat and panted.
“Bet you’re thirsty.” Griff ran back to his place for a bowl and a bottle of water. He approached carefully, stopping about halfway to set up the dish. The pug eyed him with suspicion. Griff filled the bowl and backed up. The dog sniffed and took a step toward the offering. The quarterback stood frozen, completely still, watching as the canine approached slowly and took a long drink.
“Probably hungry, too.” He tossed a piece of bread at the bowl and laughed when it bounced away. Not exactly a bullet pass. The wary pooch took another drink then carted the bread in his mouth to a corner by the back steps. He scarfed it down, keeping his large, brown eyes trained on the footballer.
“Who leaves a dog outside to fend for himself?” Griff muttered under his breath. He shook his head and went back to his run.
Later that day, at the grocery store, Griff added dog food to his cart, determined to keep the feisty pug alive. He showed up at the house with more water and some food. This time, he didn’t back away, but filled the bowl and crouched down. The starving dog approached cautiously, sniffing the air. When he got to the feast, he chowed down quickly.
Griff inched closer until he could reach out and touch the pooch. The animal lifted his gaze and growled. The football player put his hand out. The pug sniffed it then went back to eating. When he finished, he licked his chops and looked up at the quarterback, allowing the human to creep closer. Griff stretched out his hand and touched the furry head, then petted the dog. The creature sat up, allowing the man to continue.
After two meals, the dog, who Griff named “Spike,” came right up when the man arrived with food. After a couple of days, since there was no owner in sight, Griff decided to take him. Spike allowed the man to put a harness and leash on him and trotted along behind the football player home.
After a bath and a good meal, man and dog settled down on the sofa to watch television. Spike rested his head on Griff’s leg and closed his eyes. The quarterback smiled and petted his new friend. This is what I need. A dog. Although the animal couldn’t replace a family, he saw Spike as a first step toward having the life he wanted.
When Griff told Buddy about the new companion, his friend raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A dog? Really? You got a dog?”
“A pug. Named him Spike. I rescued him. I can’t believe he was abandoned.”
“How the hell are you gonna take care of a dog when we’re on the road?”
Griff put down the weight he was lifting and frowned. “Hadn’t thought about that. Guess I’ll have to board him.”
“What a fuckin’ pain in the ass. What were you thinking, man?”
“I couldn’t leave him there to starve, could I?”
“Toss him some food and call the A.S.P.C.A.”
“I didn’t think of that. He’s a good dog.”
“He’s still a pain,” Buddy said, shaking his head. “What’s happening to you? You’re getting domestic on me.”
Griff laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Man whore no more?”
“Damn! Don’t say that.”
When Griff got home after his workout, he was greeted with ferocious barking. When Spike identified his new owner, he quieted down, licking Griff’s hand and trotting behind him into the kitchen for dinner.
* * * *
After a tearful farewell with her father at the nursing home, Lauren slipped behind the wheel of her car and headed home. She tried to concentrate on the road, but sadness welled up inside her. That may be the last time I see Dad. The idea was too upsetting to think about. I’ll have to come up here more often. She focused on the road, sweeping disturbing thoughts from her mind.
Lauren chewed her lip as she wondered what would be waiting at her office. Is there any work for me? Annette set up her company differently. Everyone brought in business and used her resources. She also parceled out accounts and paid her decorators as consultants instead of employees. This arrangement meant Lauren didn’t receive a salary or health insurance.
When she had been married to Bob, it hadn’t mattered. Now, the tenuous work situation preyed on her mind. She needed to get back and check her bank balance. Anxiety made her depress the gas pedal. All at once, it hit her. Why am I rushing? There’s no one at home. No one will miss me or wonder if I’m dead if I’m an hour, or ten hours, late.
Loneliness engulfed her. To get rid of the silence, she switched on the radio. Lauren loved quiet time to read, sketch, or think. Now, she dreaded filling the empty hours. Thank God for the Girls’ Night group, or I’d have nothing. Her last conversation with Don came to mind.
“Are you dating anyone?”
“Dating? Really, Don. I’m divorced a couple of weeks.”
“So? Never too early to get back on the horse.”
“Wonderful analogy.”
He grinned and shrugged.
“I’m not dating anyone, and just the idea makes me want to throw up.”
“You’re pretty, Laurie. Go for it. Get a real guy this time. Not some jerk.”
“Nice to know you approve of my taste in men.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Don laughed at her remark and took her hand in both of his. Then, he changed the subject, leaving her relieved.
In the car, every song screeched about love—unrequited love, unspoken love, great love, sexy love, lost love—until she wanted to scream. Doesn’t anyone ever sing about anything else? She turned off the radio. Love wouldn’t be high on her list for some time. Maybe never. Once a man finds out about me, he’ll run for the hills.
Lauren decided to channel her energy into her work. Build up a clientele. Work my butt off. Then, maybe I can open my own company and not need Annette anymore.
It was four o’clock when she rolled into her driveway. Feeling buoyed by her decision to become a workaholic, Lauren stopped on the threshold of the house. She put her suitcase down and took a deep breath. It’s empty. Bob said he’d leave the bed and the couch. Be prepared. Warm summer air caressed her face. Why rush in? There’s no one there, anyway.
She sank down into a wicker chair and propped her feet up on the small table. Moving her dad had been exhausting, draining her emotional, as well as physically.
Picking up her cell, she dialed Canine Condo, where her Zander had been staying. Thank God Bob agreed to let me keep him. Maybe it’s not too late to get him tonight.
“No, Lauren. Zander’s not here.”
“What? You sure? Bob was supposed to drop him off.”
“Nope. We have room. Is he coming now?”
“No, thanks. I’m home.” She closed the phone. Tears pricked at her eyes. He lied. He took Zander. Why am I surprised? She pulled out a tissue. Don’t be a wimp. Call him. Get your dog back!
“What’s up?” Bob sounded preoccupied.
“Why did you take Zander? Was telling me I could have him just another lie?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have the dog. You dropped him at Canine Condo.”
“What? You were supposed to do that. It was on the list, remember?”
“What list?”
“The one I gave you. That you balled up and refused to read.”
“Well, if you saw I didn’t read it, why didn’t you drop him there?”
“I couldn’t do everything, Bob.”
“He’s your problem now.” Her ex-husband hung up.
Her heart beat quickened. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She opened the front door and called the dog’s name. No answer. She ran outside and repeated the action. No answer. Panic rose in her chest, her pulse thumping in her ear. No whimpers or barking broke the quiet of the summer day. He’s gone. A sob broke from her throat as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Zander, where are you?