“I’ve texted both of them almost every day,” he said as he fiddled with his sunglasses, which he held in his hands. “They say they miss me, and that things are going okay. And that’s about it. After that, they just want to know what I’m up to and if I’m having fun.”
I tried to imagine what that must be like—to know that they were trying to work out their problems, but not be sure if they actually would or not. Did he wake up every day worried? I was pretty sure if it were me, I’d be a bundle of worry all the time. Like, one big chrysalis of worry.
“Maybe what they’re going through is like the caterpillar turning into a butterfly,” I told him. “You can’t see what’s going on, right? But I think you have to believe that what will come out of all of this will be something good.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said.
I hoped so, too.
“At least you’re here with your grandma, having a good time. And you’re so lucky you have Odie with you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t even tell you how much it helps to have him along for the trip. You know how little kids have blankets they carry around everywhere that make them feel better?”
“Yep,” I said. “I had one. It was pink with a satin edge. It was like magic, the way it made me feel better.”
“Dogs are like that, too.”
“Soft,” I said.
“Fuzzy,” he said.
“Soothing,” I said.
“Always there for you,” he said.
“Okay, you’re making me want a dog so bad I think I might cry,” I said. “Quick, where’s a blanket so I can soothe myself?”
He laughed. “Sorry, Lindy, but you’re not two anymore.”
“Don’t you wish we were sometimes?” I asked.
“Sometimes, yeah. How come when you think back to when you’re little, you only remember the good stuff? It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“So maybe twenty years from now, we’ll only remember the good stuff from right now.”
“I hope so,” he said again.
That seemed to be one thing we were both pretty good at. Hoping.
We splashed,
we laughed,
we giggled,
we wiggled,
we tanned,
we fanned,
and when it was over,
we went home
and dreamed
and schemed
of doing it all again.
Our first guests arrived on Friday. They were a couple from Kansas, so Mom gave them the new Wicked room that includes a candle in the shape of a ruby-red slipper and a black-and-green print of a witch flying on a broom, among other things. Mom said they were thrilled.
“We have to treat them like royalty,” Mom told Davis and me that afternoon as we walked into Washington Square Park. Well, Mom and I walked while Davis rode his scooter. “Maybe they’ll leave reviews everywhere. Maybe they’ll tell all their friends. Word of mouth is our best friend right now. I keep looking at the other B&Bs, checking their schedules to see how booked up they are, and it’s so frustrating that we don’t have more reservations. Our rates are competitive. We’re in a good location if you love the West Village, and who doesn’t love the West Village, really?”
“Mom, don’t you remember what you told me?” I said. “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
She groaned. “Oh, Lindy. You’re a clever one, you know that? And you know what else? You’re right. I need to stop thinking about what others are doing and stay focused on my job.”
It was a really nice afternoon, not too hot, so a lot of people were out enjoying the nice weather. All around us there were people walking their dogs. I almost pointed it out to Mom, to prove to her that there were a lot of dog lovers in the world who would appreciate a dog-friendly B&B, but I decided not to. It seemed like her mind was made up.
I stopped at a sidewalk poem written in chalk and read it. I loved that someone would write a poem and then share it in a place where thousands of people would walk by every day and read it. I wondered if I’d be brave enough to share any of the silly little poems I wrote in my notebook if I didn’t sign my name or anything. It only took a second for me to decide no way. Those words were for my eyes only. People who wrote sidewalk poems were a lot braver than me. And much better writers, too.
“That’s really neat, isn’t it?” Mom said. Davis was riding in a big circle around both of us as well as the poem on the ground.
I pointed to a star. “I like how they drew pictures for some of the words. There was a magazine we used to read at the doctor’s office when I was little that had stories like that. What was it called?”
“Highlights.”
“I loved that magazine.”
She stroked the back of my head. “You are my story girl, that’s for sure. You read all those library books yet?” she teased.
“Not yet,” I said. “But almost.”
“Guess we’ll have to go back next week, then.”
We followed Mom over to the fountain, where she took a seat. I sat next to her.
“Can I ride around the park?” Davis asked.
Mom pulled her black round sunglasses out of her bag. “Yes, but watch where you’re going and please don’t get in people’s way. It’s annoying.”
“Okay.”
Mom let out a big sigh, and after she put on her glasses, she leaned back onto her hands and turned her face to the sun. “This has been a good week.”
“Tomorrow’s my last Saturday with Vivian and Tyler,” I said. “I wonder where we’ll go.”
“It’s kind of the grand finale, isn’t it?” Mom said. “Although you and Vivian could continue your little adventures around the city after Tyler has gone home. She’d probably love that. From the sound of it, I think she’s grown fond of you.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But it wouldn’t be the same without Tyler.”
Just then, we heard someone yell followed by a kid crying. Mom sat up straight and looked around. “Where’s Davis?”
I got to my feet and turned toward the commotion.
“Mom, I think it’s him,” I said.
We both ran over to the spot, and found my brother on the ground, holding his arm and crying. We crouched down as Mom looked Davis over.
“Are you his mother?” a guy asked, leaning down right next to us. He looked like a college kid, maybe a little older, wearing shorts and a Captain America T-shirt. He had a big dog on a leash that sat behind him.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Did you see what happened?”
“I think my German shepherd scared him. He thinks it’s fun to chase scooters. Some kids love it, but I guess yours doesn’t. He swerved hard and bit the dust. I’m really sorry.”
“Me too,” Mom said. “Davis, it’s all right. Come here. Let’s get you up, and we’ll go home. Lindy, can you grab his scooter, please?”
I waited a second for Davis to stand up, but he didn’t move. “My arm,” he said through the tears. “It really hurts.”
“Can I see it?” Mom asked.
Davis shook his head, and when Mom reached out, he yelled, “No!” and leaned back. “Don’t make me move it!”
Prince Charming had become Prince Jerkface in a matter of seconds, which told me something was definitely not right.
Mom looked at me, her eyes filled with concern. “Can you text your dad? I think we’re going to have to take him to the emergency room and have it looked at.”
“How do we get him there?” I asked. “Do we have to call an ambulance?”
“Do you think you can get up and walk?” Mom asked my brother.
He was still crying. He shook his head.
“The ambulance it is, then,” she said. “Text your dad. I’ll call 911.”
This was so not how I wanted our Friday afternoon to go. And here Dad thought riding the subway was dangerous for kids.
I’m sitting here in the waiting room with Dad while Mom and Davis are getting his arm x-rayed. T
hey’re pretty sure he broke it. Which will mean no more swimming or baseball or a hundred other things. And if that weren’t bad enough, of course it had to be a dog that would cause the accident. Mom will probably never go near one again. Even worse, who knows if she’ll ever let either one of us go near one again.
Dad just told me the next few days I should be ready to help Mom with anything she needs.
“Like what?” I ask him.
“Helping to clean the room where the guests are staying. Helping with our meals. Helping to entertain Davis since he’ll need to lie low and take it easy while he takes the pain medication.”
“But I can still go out with Vivian and Tyler tomorrow, right? It’s our last Saturday before Tyler leaves.”
“I think it’d be best for everyone if you stayed close to home, Lindy. I’m sorry, but this is serious.”
No, no, no.
This can’t be happening.
I have to go tomorrow. I just have to. Tyler’s picking the places now, and I have a feeling it’s going to be something good. Really good.
I’m the worst sister in the world. My brother probably has a broken arm, and here I am, worrying about the silly HAT project.
Except, it’s not like I can make his pain go away. Or make his arm normal again. He’ll be on the couch, watching TV, getting to eat whatever he wants because Mom will baby him. And I’m supposed to suddenly become a hotel maid?
Maybe he is my little brother, and maybe it’s terrible he broke his arm, but this is SO not fair!
The good news was that Davis wouldn’t need surgery. The bad news was that he’d fractured his wrist and he’d have to wear the blue fiberglass cast for at least six weeks. Once the cast was on, he said his arm felt a lot better.
“It hurt so bad when they were x-raying it,” he told us over a dinner of take-out pizza, “I thought I was going to barf all over the doctor.”
“Please,” I said as I set down my slice of cheese and reached for my water glass. “Stop. We’re eating.”
I watched as he maneuvered his slice of pizza with only his left hand. He had to lift the piece up into the air and drop the tip into his mouth, since it was kind of floppy. I was pretty impressed that he’d figured out how to manage it in such a short time.
“Did they prescribe anything for the pain?” Dad asked.
“No. They said to give him acetaminophen for now,” Mom said. “If it’s not enough, then we’re supposed to call and let the doctor know. I’ll give him another dose before bedtime.”
“Can I please have some ice cream when I’m finished?” Davis asked. “And can Lindy spoon-feed me since it might be hard to do it all by myself?”
“No, Prince Charming,” I said. “You still have one good hand. I think you can figure out how to eat your ice cream. You learned fast enough with the pizza.”
When I looked over at him, the look in his eye told me he’d been teasing. Ugh. Little brothers are so annoying.
Mom got up and took her plate to the sink. “Yes, you may have some ice cream when you’re through. While you finish eating, I should run down and check to make sure our guests don’t need any more towels or anything.” She stopped midstride and said, “Oh no.”
We all turned and looked at her. “What?” Dad asked. “What is it?”
“With all the excitement, I forgot to stop at the bakery and get them some things for breakfast.”
Dad got up and pushed his chair in. “Most bakeries are probably closed by now, but I’ll go to the market. Can you quickly make me a list of what you want me to get?”
“Thank you so much, Kevin,” Mom said, rushing over to give him a kiss. “Can I text you what I need?”
Dad grabbed his keys from the basket in the center of the table, where they always put them. “Great idea. But don’t forget.”
Mom pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll do it right now, before I go downstairs.”
Davis kept munching on his pizza. As I looked around at my family, I felt … happy. Relieved. Yes, my brother had broken his arm, but this was the most normal I’d felt at dinner in a while. It was so nice to have them focused on something besides the inn for a change. Okay, yes, it was something awful that had brought along the change, but I still felt thankful.
“Can he get us doughnuts for breakfast?” Davis asked.
Mom didn’t even look up. “Sure.”
Davis turned to me and beamed. I rolled my eyes. Just like I thought—they were going to baby him like crazy. But at least I’d get some doughnuts out of the deal, too. Though doughnuts would never make up for missing out on some time with Vivian and Tyler.
“Mom?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“Since Davis seems to be doing okay, can I still meet up with Tyler and Vivian tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s wait and see how things are in the morning, okay?”
Just then, the business phone in her room started ringing. She rushed off to answer it.
“Maybe someone else is going to stay here,” Davis said.
“Maybe,” I said.
I texted Nora: My brother broke his arm and that one small thing may get in the way of me unlocking my secret talent. Can you believe that?
She replied right away: Um, not really a small thing.
Me: But it’s his arm, not mine. It’s not fair.
Nora: Anything I can do?
Me: No. But thanks.
When Mom came out, she did not look happy. Like, instead of getting a reservation, she looked as if someone had called to cancel a bunch of them.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She stood there, dazed. “A family wanted to stay here for a reunion at the end of this month.”
“That’s great!” I paused. “So why do you look like you just ate a whole jar of dill pickles?”
“Because they wanted to know if we’d take a couple of well-behaved dogs.”
I almost blurted out, “I told you so!” but I stopped myself.
“Hey, that was Lindy’s idea,” Davis said. “You said yes, right, Mom?”
Our mother looked at him like he had a doughnut for a head. “No. I did not say yes. You really don’t want dogs staying here after what happened to you today, do you?”
Davis looked down and rubbed his cast with his good hand. “That dog was just playing. It surprised me when he came running after me, that’s all.”
“Did you get a number?” I asked. “Maybe you can call them back and tell them you changed your mind. I mean, if Davis is okay with it …”
She shook her head, hard. “No. I’m not going to change my mind. Lindy, can you clean up the dishes, please? I need to run downstairs now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Sure.”
After she left, Davis looked at me. “Dogs are a good idea, Lindy.”
For once, my brother and I agreed on something.
Shimmy, shimmy, shake! Enzo did the happy dance when Sam showed him Lucy’s wedding ring.
“I didn’t know I’d feel this nervous,” Sam said. “She’ll like the ring, right?”
“Arf,” Enzo barked. Right.
“And we make a great pair. Right?”
“Arf.”
“Time for me to get to the church. Bye, buddy.”
Enzo watched as Sam’s coat got caught on the gate latch and the ring fell out of his pocket.
“Woof, woof!” Wait! You dropped the ring.
Sam smiled and waved before he zoomed down the street in his car.
Enzo snatched up the box, pushed the gate open, and raced after Sam. He ran and ran and ran. He jogged and jogged and jogged. He walked and walked and walked.
Finally, he reached Sam’s car, but he didn’t see Sam. Enzo looked for the church and saw it WAY up high.
He inched up the hill, but he was tired. He plopped down, right on top of the box.
“Pant, pant, pant.” I can’t do it.
Two ladies hurried past carrying flowers.
“Woof.” Can you take the ring to Sam?
The ladies kept going.
A man rushed by carrying a camera.
“Arf, arf!” Please help.
“Get home, pup,” the man said. He kept going.
A man and a lady walked by carrying a beautiful cake.
Since no one paid any attention to his barking, Enzo nipped at the lady’s feet. The cake swayed this way, and that way, and this way again. And then, PLOP, it fell right on Enzo.
“Bad dog,” the lady said.
“Hurry!” the man told the lady. “Back to the bakery!”
The church bells started ringing. People covered the hillside. Enzo barked and barked, but still, no one stopped.
Enzo looked up. He saw the big hill, the bumpy path, and the long grass. It seemed impossible. But Enzo knew he had to try. As Enzo walked, grass clung to his sticky body. He shook a prickly weed from his paw.
I can do it. I can do it, Enzo thought as he plodded up the hill.
Finally, he made it. Shimmy, shimmy, shake!
Piano music swirled up and around his sticky legs, past his sniffing nose, and into his icing-covered ears. Enzo spotted Sam at the front of the church, checking his pockets frantically. With his jaw locked tight around the box, Enzo rushed toward Sam.
“Stop that dog!” the man with the camera yelled. Enzo zigged and zagged through long legs and grabbing hands until he leaped into Sam’s arms.
“The ring!” Lucy said. “Enzo, you saved the day.”
“Thanks, little buddy,” Sam said between Enzo’s slobbery doggy kisses. “You are the best dog ever.”
And to prove he meant it, Sam gave Enzo a special place in the wedding.
“Sam, will you take Lucy to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the minister asked.
Sam looked nervous. He wiped his brow and swallowed hard.
“Ruff, ruff.” You can do it, you can do it!
Sam smiled. “I do.”
Shimmy, shimmy, shake. Shimmy, shimmy, shake!
Saturday morning, I woke up early. I’d started a story the day before about Enzo the dog, and I worked on it for a long time. When I finished, I shut my notebook, satisfied. Maybe Mom didn’t see dogs as good, but I sure did, and I felt happy that I’d found a way to express that somehow.