One Careful Owner: Love Me, Love My Dog

  Katie was chattering away to Spen and helping make lunch.

  “ . . . and we met Mommy’s new friend,” she said as she squirted ketchup and mustard into the rolls. “And he’s got a really nice dog named Stan.”

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “New friend?” she asked enquiringly.

  My cheeks bloomed red.

  “Not like that,” I said hastily. “A new client—I’ve been treating his dog.”

  “I liked him,” Katie announced, oblivious to the silent conversation going on behind her. “He listened to me.” Then she turned and pinned me with her gaze. “Do you think he’s handsome, Mom?”

  “What? No!” I sputtered. “Well, he’s not bad looking.”

  I was lying. He was gorgeous. Gorgeous now, anyway.

  Katie frowned, then turned back to the pile of rolls.

  “I think Mr. Winters is handsome,” she announced, as if wondering why everyone else hadn’t noticed that the sky was blue. “He talks funny.”

  “Winters?” Spen said, his eyes crinkling in confusion. “The man who bought Old Joe’s place?”

  “The one and only,” I laughed weakly.

  “The one that Dan arrested?” Nancy asked.

  “Nearly arrested. And it was Jon, not Dan. But yep, that’s him.”

  “Well, that’s odd,” said Nancy. “I was under the impression that he was . . . rather unprepossessing. Ashley said that . . .”

  Spen shook his head. “I’ve told you before not to listen to town gossip. He seemed like a decent enough fellow to me. Quiet, a little withdrawn perhaps.”

  “But is he handsome?” pressed Nancy.

  All eyes swung to me.

  “Ah . . . he looks different from when I first met him . . .”

  “He can come to your party!” Katie added. “And Stan.”

  Every year Nancy and Spen liked to throw a party to celebrate the Fourth. This year was no exception.

  “Katie, I don’t know . . .”

  “Pleeeease!” she begged, her little face wrinkling as she out-stared Spen and Nancy.

  “Maybe we should invite him,” Spen said thoughtfully. “He hasn’t been given the warmest welcome in Girard. It would do him good to get to know a few people. Although he may not come . . .”

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Katie sang, throwing her arms around Spen’s waist.

  Nancy raised her eyebrows.

  “Well, this young man seems to have made quite an impression on Katie,” she said to me.

  “You’ve no idea,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  Dawn

  EVER SINCE I could remember, the Fourth of July meant a party at Nancy and Spen’s house. It used to be an enormous affair when I was a kid, with half the town turning up to eat Nancy’s homemade pies and drink Spen’s moonshine, although I wasn’t supposed to know about that. These days, it was much smaller, but even so, when Katie and I arrived, rather late, there were already more than 20 cars and trucks parked outside their house.

  I sighed at the same time Katie squealed with excitement. I wasn’t a huge fan of crowds, and generally avoided parties. That makes me sound like a recluse, and I wasn’t, but I had my reasons.

  There were a lot of things I loved about living in a small town—the community spirit, with bake sales to raise money for the church roof, Girl Scout cookies, and fireworks at the high school football field. But there was one thing that I hated, one thing you can never get away from: gossip. And having been on the receiving end of gossip for most of my adult life, I loathed it. Hence my dislike of crowds.

  Katie jumped out of the car and ran toward the house. I envied her—so ready to throw herself into life. She hadn’t yet learned to be cautious because people could smile out of one side of their mouths and lie to you from the other.

  I followed more slowly, carrying a cooler filled with different salads that I’d thrown together.

  But before I made it inside, I stopped and did a double-take. Parked at the far end of the street was Mr. Winters’ rust bucket of a truck. My mouth popped open.

  Never in a million years . . . I didn’t think that he’d come. If anyone was more of a hermit than me, it was Girard’s newest and most mysterious arrival. Katie had kept on asking me if he was coming and I’d told her no. But it looked as though I was wrong.

  My gut tightened with nervous anticipation. The thought of seeing him again . . . I was surprised by the sudden rush of blood and a faintly dizzy sensation that washed over me.

  And then I wondered how he’d cope with a party when talking to people was such a torment for him. My God, that was brave.

  Courage isn’t always in the grand gestures, but for a man like him, it was simply walking out of his own front door. If he could face a party, then so could I.

  I dumped the cooler in the kitchen and laid out the salads on the buffet table, smiling at the enormous spread Nancy had provided.

  I was steeling myself to head out into the backyard when she came barreling in.

  “Dawn, sweetie!” and she gave me a big hug. “Where’s Katie?”

  “Probably on her second hotdog by now,” I laughed.

  “Probably,” she agreed with a smile. “By the way, your Mr. Winters is here—isn’t that a surprise?”

  “He’s not my Mr. Winters,” I said patiently.

  She gave me a mischievous grin.

  “Spen drove out to give him the invitation but when I asked if he was coming, Spen said ‘Hard to tell’, so we weren’t really expecting him. It must have been the prospect of seeing you again.”

  I gave her a pained look. “Nancy, please don’t . . .”

  She squeezed my hand. “No, no matchmaking, I promise. By the way, did you know he works in construction?”

  I shook my head. The truth was I knew next to nothing about him.

  “Spen says he’s doing a magnificent job of fixing up Old Joe’s cabin, like something out of ‘Better Homes & Gardens’.”

  She paused as if waiting for me to fill in the blanks, but I had nothing to say. She looked faintly disappointed, but smiled at me again.

  “Well now, come on outside and pretend you enjoy parties.”

  As I glanced around, I saw all the usual faces: Gary and Sheila Petz, their son Lloyd with his wife Leanne, Nancy’s brother Ludo who was a marvelous plumber and therefore one of the most important people in town, and a bunch of others who waved at me and hugged Katie as she did the rounds.

  I couldn’t see him, I mean Mr. Winters, or Stan, but I did see Dan and his wife Crystal.

  “Hey, Dawn! Where’s pint-size?”

  “Somewhere causing trouble,” I laughed. “Listen for the yells.”

  Dan groaned. “I’m off duty!”

  I’d known Dan and Crystal since high school. I even went on a date with Dan when I was seventeen. Just the one time though, because then he started seeing Crystal. It was a long time ago and we were all friends.

  Crystal gave me a hug and passed over a fruit punch.

  “I’ve met the mysterious Mr. Winters,” she said, giving me a sly smile and dropping her voice to a whisper. “I can see why everyone is talking about him,” and she batted her eyelashes, making me laugh. “All the other single women have tried talking to him, but no one’s had any luck. Maybe you should try.”

  I tried to seem unaffected. “Did he bring Stan?”

  “His assistance dog? Yes, I expect he takes him everywhere.”

  “Assistance dog? I thought Stan was just a pet,” but even as I said the words, I wasn’t sure they were true.

  Crystal looked confused. “Well, that’s what I assumed because, you know, because of his disability.”

  She whispered the word ‘disability’, as if it wasn’t something that was polite to discuss.

  Then I heard Katie calling his name, her piercing voice carrying above the myriad conversations.

  “Mr. Winters! Mr. Winters! It’s me, Katie. Where’s Stan? Is he here?”

  I turned and found
her running up to the man everyone was talking about.

  He was wearing jeans and a sharply pressed white shirt. He was clean shaven and looked more handsome than ever. I stared, maybe even gawked, and I heard Crystal’s snicker behind me.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I think he might need rescuing from my daughter.”

  “Sure,” she laughed, “but who’s going to rescue him from you?”

  I shook my head, her words stinging in a way that she hadn’t intended. I knew I wasn’t a prize, and I knew what the local gossips still said about me.

  Instead of worrying about old news, I followed the sound of Katie’s voice.

  When I caught up to her, she was kneeling on the grass, her thin arms wrapped around Stan’s neck. He panted happily, his tail wagging slowly.

  “Does he like hotdogs?” she asked.

  I stood stock still, astonished when Mr. Winters answered normally, his stutter almost unnoticeable.

  “He’s on d-duty. No hotdogs.”

  She rubbed her nose with a dirty finger. “Is he very fierce?”

  I watched, intrigued, as he bent down to stroke Stan.

  “Between you and me, he’s as fierce as a bunny rabbit, but d-don’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.”

  “Bunnies can be quite vicious,” she said seriously. “They have really strong teeth, and they can kick, too.”

  “Sorry!” I laughed as I walked across the grass to join them. “Comes from being a vet’s daughter.”

  “Okay, no hotdogs. Sorry, Stan,” said Katie, looking disappointed as she skipped away to join some other kids who were playing Frisbee.

  “How are you, Mr. Winters?”

  He nodded. “A-Alex.”

  “Oh!” I said, my cheeks turning pink. I hadn’t expected him to speak to me. And then I realized that I was staring at him, but still hadn’t replied. “Please, call me Dawn.”

  To hide my embarrassment, I bent down to fuss Stan’s ears. He leaned against my leg, his eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face.

  I looked up to find Mr. Win—to find Alex watching me, and something that might have been a smile softening his expression.

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I’m a little surprised to see you here,” I said honestly. “Pleased, but surprised.”

  He glanced around ruefully and shrugged his shoulders.

  I could only imagine how he felt being here surrounded by so many strangers. I smiled to myself—Spen could be amazingly persuasive when he wanted to. Dad said he’d been a heck of a trial lawyer back in the day.

  Alex seemed tense, his shoulders stiff and his expression tight as his gaze met many inquiring eyes watching us.

  “Too many people?” I suggested quietly.

  He nodded and grimaced.

  “Well, you certainly look better than last time I saw you. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said . . .”

  My words trailed off when I realized he probably didn’t want to be reminded of that. He’d told me he was having a bad day . . .

  “S-stan likes K-k-katie,” he said softly, surprising me by initiating a new topic.

  I chuckled quietly.

  “I think it’s mutual. She’s been talking about him non-stop ever since we saw you. And it’s not like she doesn’t get to meet animals all the time.”

  He took a deep breath, his lips forming the word shapes before he managed to speak.

  “H-how . . . k-kittens?”

  I smiled.

  “They’re doing great! Mrs. Humphries has taken them home now. She’s so grateful. She wanted to thank you in person . . . but she’ll write you, I’m sure.”

  He nodded, listening carefully, and I was happy that we were having something like a conversation. I started to relax and enjoy myself, pretending I couldn’t see the quizzical stares of Spen and Nancy’s friends.

  I’d planned to ask Alex about his work on the house, when my nemesis appeared.

  Stella strode toward us, her calculating gaze flipping between me and Alex questioningly.

  Ugh! Why did she have to be here? And why did she have to look so fantastic and totally put-together when I was wearing an old denim skirt and a tank top?

  “Hello, Stella,” I replied in a clipped tone.

  The temperature plummeted several degrees on the Kelvin scale, and Alex looked at us curiously.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?” Stella asked stiffly, her cool gaze drifting over Alex.

  I had two choices: tell her off and risk making a scene, or . . .

  “Alex, this is Stella,” I said flatly. “And this is Stan.”

  Alex gave me a puzzled look, obviously wondering why I hadn’t corrected Stella’s assumption that he was my date. I couldn’t explain that I was saving him a world of trouble.

  “Charmed,” purred Stella, checking him out and ignoring both me and Stan.

  I rolled my eyes. Typical Stella. Put a good looking guy in front of her, and she turned into some sort of rampant man-eater. A sweet, shy guy like Alex wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Where are you from, Alex, I know you’re not a local?” she said, still ignoring me.

  Alex frowned, his lips flattening.

  “Ah . . . ah . . .”

  “Actually he’s your new neighbor,” I said, feeling I had to say something when Alex was clearly struggling, then kicked myself for being so dumb and telling her he practically lived next door to her, even though there was a good chance Stella already knew that or would have found out soon enough.

  Stella’s mouth widened into a grin.

  “How marvelous! You must come over for coffee, neighbor.”

  And she shot me a triumphant look.

  The awkward pause stretched out, and then I saw Katie running toward us, smiling happily.

  “Hi, Aunty Stella!” she sang, flinging herself into Stella’s arms and receiving a warm hug in return.

  I’d say one thing for Stella, she’d never held Katie’s birth against her. Only me.

  Then Katie ran off again, leaving the three of us in painful silence.

  I could see Alex’s confusion as his eyes flicked from Stella’s face to mine.

  “Yes,” I said, my voice uncomfortably brittle. “We’re sisters.”

  “Unfortunately,” added Stella, under her breath.

  Then she threw me a dirty look, and placed her hand on Alex’s arm, squeezing gently. She looked like she was sizing up a piece of prime beef at the market.

  “Nice to see you, Alex,” said Stella, throwing me a final vicious glare. “I look forward to our next meeting . . . as we’re such close neighbors. Drop by any time.”

  Then she turned and stalked away.

  Alex raised his eyebrows, his eyes meeting mine in a question. I smiled thinly.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the local gossip about us.”

  I was trying for casual, but I knew that it wasn’t working.

  Alex shook his head, staring after Stella, and I sighed.

  “I love living in a small town, but sometimes it can get too much,” I admitted as his gaze finally returned to me. “Everyone knowing your business for a couple of generations back. But me and Stel . . . obviously . . . we don’t get along, but she’s never dragged Katie into our issues. I’m grateful for that. But as for the rest . . .” I blew out a breath. “Don’t ask.”

  He didn’t, but his expressive eyes stared into mine, as if to say that he understood, that he wouldn’t pry. He was probably the last person to listen to gossip, having been a target of it himself. Although I didn’t know if he was aware of it. But even if he didn’t before, he couldn’t have missed the way people were staring and whispering now.

  Then I heard Katie calling to me. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.

  “Well, see you later,” I said awkwardly.

  He nodded as I patted Stan, and walked away.

  An hour later, I’d had enough. More than enough. I’d tried to ignore Stella’s presence, b
ut she’d been tossing back glass after glass of red wine and I didn’t want Katie to see her like that.

  Definitely time to leave. Katie wouldn’t be happy at the thought of going now. Not at all. Unlike me, my daughter was a party animal—the more people around the merrier. And other than school, she hardly ever had that. Guilt slithered up my spine again.

  Being a parent means you’re an expert in guilt. There’s never enough time to be everything you want to be for your child, to do everything you want to do, to give them the things they need or deserve. And being a de facto single parent, well, you could double and triple the guilt complex.

  It took me a few minutes to find Katie. She wasn’t by the buffet or playing with the other kids. She wasn’t in the kitchen or talking to Nancy. And she wasn’t in either of the house’s bathrooms.

  I made my way into the backyard again, then saw her out of the corner of my eye. She’d just plopped down in the shade of a large oak tree. And she was with Alex. Again.

  It made me sad. She obviously craved his attention—maybe because she got so little from her father.

  I tiptoed closer, intrigued.

  “I’m hot,” she said, sprawling out in the shade next to a sleeping Stan, her face flushed and glowing.

  Alex smiled at her and offered his bottle of water.

  “Thanks, Mr. Winters,” she said, taking several large gulps, wiping her mouth with her hand and passing the bottle back.

  “M-my name is Alex,” he said, his voice soft and hesitant.

  Katie frowned.

  “Mom says I’m supposed to call old people Mr. or Mrs. or Dr. if they’re like my mom.”

  I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh. I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I was fascinated to see the way Katie interacted with him. She certainly hadn’t been this interested in talking to the couple of guys I’d dated in the last eight years.

  “I’m not that old,” Alex replied, his tone halfway between amusement and indignation.

  I wondered. My guess would be early thirties, although anything over 16 probably seemed ancient to an eight year-old.

  “Okay,” she nodded, her face breaking out in another smile. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

  Oh no! Poor Alex! He looked shocked, and he shook his head, his eyes wide.