Whether she’d made the changes to remove haunting memories or simply to better suit her taste, Amy hadn’t the slightest idea. While it felt as if Hazel were constantly checking in with Amy and Bridget since their mothers’ deaths, she’d been reluctant to rely on any of them when her grief was still fresh and new. Not only had Hazel been the first to lose a parent, but she’d also found her boyfriend, Keith, before the cancer claimed her father, which meant she’d depended largely on him for comfort in those early days of mourning. Later on, Hazel had said she’d felt bad going to Amy and the others since her loss was a reminder of what they were still fighting.
Whatever the case, Hazel’s home had become an absolutely beautiful showpiece. Sometimes Amy was afraid just to walk through it, even though Hazel never appeared to get angry about muddy shoes or visible fingerprints.
Hmm, maybe a few new pieces of furniture would liven up Amy’s place as well. It might be nice to make over her house as part of making over her life. The one thing she’d never change, though, was the kitchen. All her best memories of her mother lived there.
“Hi!” Hazel cried, running down the stairs and then enveloping Amy in a giant hug. “Ten minutes early, right on the nose.”
Each woman pressed a finger to the side of her nose, then broke out laughing. It felt good to laugh, especially when Amy was so tired. It made her general bubbly, happy feeling that much more intoxicating.
“How’s the new dog adjusting to life at home?” Hazel asked, taking the plastic container of cookies from Amy without so much as a word about their origin.
“Oh, it’s a process,” Amy answered with a sigh. “But we’re getting through it okay enough.”
They marched single file toward the kitchen, and Hazel popped open the box of cookies. “I bet Belle is giving you the cold shoulder, huh?” she said around a mouthful of bright pink frosting, complete with red and white sprinkles.
“I haven’t seen her since last night,” Amy admitted, feeling intensely guilty yet again. “I’m starting to worry she may never forgive me for this.”
“She’ll come around.” Hazel grabbed another cookie and took a seat at the counter. “Mmm, how did you know these are a guilty pleasure of mine?”
A few minutes later, Bridget came bustling through the front door and straight into the kitchen. Five minutes early. She was almost never early for anything. The fact she was tonight immediately sent alarm bells ringing.
“B, everything okay?” Amy asked, since Hazel’s mouth was still stuffed with cookie.
Bridget shook off her backpack and dropped it on the floor. “I came straight from the shelter. Usually it’s closed on Sundays, but I stuck around all day so that families who couldn’t make it yesterday could still pick up their new pets before the weekend was over.”
“And?” Amy prompted when Bridget trailed off and leaned back against the wall.
“And some came. Others scheduled a different time for pickup. But a few people, I couldn’t get in touch with at all.”
“So, you’ll try calling them again tomorrow, right?” Hazel suggested. “No big deal.”
“Actually, it is a big deal,” Bridget insisted, suddenly remembering her bag and scooping it off the floor. “If their adoptions fall through, then we’ll be back to square one on finding those pets new owners. And it will mean we didn’t meet our goal of getting everyone adopted, after all.”
Tears threatened to spill, but Bridget shook them off and began rummaging through her backpack. “Who would say no to these faces?” she asked, waving two photo printouts toward Amy, who instantly recognized both of the animals pictured.
“Aren’t those two of the dogs you brought on our walk in the park?” she asked, grabbing the papers and searching the text for their names.
“Yup,” Bridget said with an extra pucker on the P sound. “Rosco the rottie and Baby the pit bull mix.” She sighed again as Amy passed the pictures to Hazel.
“It’s such a shame,” Bridget continued. “They’re both really very nice dogs.” A smile suddenly lit her face. “Hey, you have lots of space here, Haze. Why don’t you adopt them?”
Hazel laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, no. I feel for you, B. I really do, but there is no way. You know I use this place for business. The last thing I need is two hulking guard dogs scaring off my clients.”
“That reputation is not fair!” Bridget objected. “Rotties and pits are some of the nicest dogs out there, and these two are no exception.”
Amy took the printouts from Hazel and handed them back to Bridget. “Don’t worry, B. I’m sure their new owners will come through. And even if they don’t, didn’t you get a bunch of extra applications in?”
Bridget shook her head. “Not for these two. So many people have their prejudices against the aggressive”—she paused to make air quotes around this last word—“breeds. And if we don’t vet new owners carefully, they’ll end up back in the same types of situations we rescued them from. Or worse.” She shook her head and cast her eyes to the floor. “It’s just not fair.”
“Well, let’s not call it a loss yet. I’m sure both Rosco and Baby will end up in a great home,” Amy said brightly even though she fully understood her friend’s hopelessness. “Their new owners probably just needed a couple more days to get everything ready. That’s not so bad, right?”
Bridget forced a smile, then dove into the cookie box and took two sugary treats for herself. Amy tried not to be offended that her home-baked cookies never seemed to go this fast, but then again, this was proving to be quite an emotionally charged gathering already.
She also hoped that what she’d told Bridget about the adoptions coming through proved to be true. As much as she wanted to help, there was simply no way she could invite two more dogs into her home. Nope, the pudgy beagle was already pushing her to the limits of what she could handle. Someone would come through for the last two rescues in need of a home.
If she believed it with everything she had, would that make this wish more likely to come true?
For Bridget’s sake, she hoped so.
Chapter 32
Nichole arrived a bit late, but came bearing a moose stew that smelled absolutely heavenly. She normally brought takeout to their gatherings, so this was yet another abrupt change from the usual.
“Mmm,” Bridget moaned appreciatively and immediately popped off the lid, letting the mouthwatering aroma waft into the air. “Who made this?”
Nichole glared at her as she yanked the lid away and recovered the dish. “I did. Why do you have to act so surprised about it?”
“Um, because you never cook, like, ever,” Bridget shot back with an exaggerated eye roll.
Nichole elbowed Bridget in the gut as she tried to push her away. “Well, somebody at work got me an InstaPot for Christmas, and I’m finally trying it out. That a problem for you?”
“Not if that stew tastes as good as it smells.” Amy inserted herself between the two bickering friends, forcing each one to take a step back.
Hazel shook her head, passing by the three of them to rummage about the kitchen cabinets. “Not everything’s worth fighting about, you know?” She grabbed a stack of four large bowls, set them on the counter, then went back to her search of the kitchen. “I think I have a bag of dinner rolls stuffed into my freezer somewhere.”
Nichole ladled her meaty creation into massive soup bowls, filling each to the brim with piping-hot gravy. “How’s Darwin?” she asked Amy, who was laying out silverware and napkins around Hazel’s granite high-top dining table.
Amy filled her in quickly, making sure she only mentioned the most positive parts of her new life as a dog owner. Despite Bridget’s playful argument with Nichole, she still seemed distressed about the situation with the rescue dogs, and Amy didn’t want to be the one to set her off again.
Nichole approached the table, taking slow, careful steps so as not to spill any stew from the overfull bowl. “Uh-huh. And how’s Trent?”
Amy didn’t mis
s the conspiratorial glance that darted between Bridget and Nichole. “Hey!” she cried, frowning at both of them.
The outburst shocked Nichole just enough that she lost her carefully maintained balance, tipping a generous portion of piping-hot stew down the front of her shirt.
“Ouch, hot, hot, hot!” she cried, dancing in pain as she shoved the bowl onto the table with one hand and held the soiled shirt away from her skin with the other.
Hazel ran to inspect the bowl to make sure it hadn’t broken. Once satisfied that her set would not be split up prematurely, she turned wearily toward Nichole. “C’mon,” she said, guiding the way to the front stairs. “I can lend you a shirt for tonight.”
This left Amy alone with Bridget, who sat hunched over the table slurping her stew.
“Bridget?” Amy said, drawing out the last syllable an extra-long time so her friend could hear her irritation loud and clear.
Bridget popped another spoonful into her mouth and offered a silly smile.
Amy, however, knew better than to fall for her distraction techniques. “Did you and Nichole do something I’m not going to like?” she demanded.
“Why would you think that?” The younger woman stirred her food innocently enough, but kept her eyes fixed on the bright lumps of carrot rather than her accuser.
“I saw that look when Nichole mentioned Trent.” Amy placed a palm on either side of the table and pushed herself into a standing position as she glared down at her friend. “What did you two do?”
Bridget sighed and let her spoon fall into the bowl with a loud clank. “Nothing, I swear. Well, nothing else, I mean.”
Amy did not like the sound of this one bit. Why couldn’t her friends just leave well enough alone? It wasn’t as if they all didn’t have a million other things to focus on these days. “B, just tell me,” she insisted.
Bridget squirmed in her chair. “We may have arranged for you to run into each other at adoption pickup, and Nichole may have invited him here tonight, but—”
“What?” Amy spat, thrusting a hand onto her hip. “You can’t just do that. I called things off with Trent for a reason.”
“Yeah, but it was a stupid reason,” Bridget mumbled, turning her head to the side as if in search of the others to save her.
“Excuse me?” Amy demanded, growing more and more irritated by the second.
“You really liked him,” Bridget reminded her. “And for like a week you were really happy. We just wanted to see you happy again.” She snapped her attention back to Amy and took on a new, tender expression.
Amy lowered herself back into her chair and took a shaky breath. “That’s sweet, B, but also really inappropriate. I can make my own decisions.”
Her friend nodded and picked up her spoon again as if that settled the matter. “I mean, it’s not like he agreed to come, anyway.”
“What?” Amy sputtered again.
Bridget shrugged again. “We invited him, but he said no. Said he didn’t want to ambush you like that.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Amy said calmly even though her heart had accelerated by at least twenty beats per minute. “Good on him,” she added. “I’m still mad at you.”
The sound of Hazel and Nichole tromping down the stairs halted their conversation, and Amy shot Bridget a warning look. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Got it?” she hissed in warning.
Bridget nodded and buried her spoon in the stew, obviously just as happy as Amy not to discuss this anymore.
Nichole entered the kitchen wearing an oversize T-shirt with a giant hole at the neckline.
“That suits you, Nic,” Bridget said with a giggle.
“I wasn’t about to try to squeeze myself into one of her designer blouses,” Nichole explained, grabbing a roll of paper towels to tend to the mess she’d left behind. “So I raided her pajama drawer instead.”
“Everything okay with you two?” Hazel asked suspiciously, apparently noting the fresh tension between Amy and Bridget.
“Better than okay.” Amy raised her spoon and put on her best smile. “Delicious.” She wasn’t mad at Hazel, anyway. As far as she could tell, the failed Trent ambush had been one hundred percent a Nichole-Bridget brainchild.
As the evening wore on, everyone fell back into their usual happy banter.
Everyone but Amy. She had a hard time shutting off her thoughts long enough to focus on any of the multiple threads of conversation that wove their way through the night.
It was one thing for her friends to conspire behind her back—at least that showed they cared. What really rankled was that Trent had passed up the chance to see her. He’d claimed to be respecting her space, but was that the real reason he’d declined the invite? Maybe he was just done with Amy—maybe even angry with her. After all, he’d tried to apologize and make things right at the dog park, and her response had been to run away rather than talk it out.
Despite her shortcomings, Bridget had been right about one thing. Amy was really happy for the one week that she’d allowed herself to succumb to that new infatuation, to fully indulge in her new friendship with Trent while hoping and working toward an even deeper connection between them.
And as much as she loved her new doggie companion, the feeling just wasn’t the same. Falling for Trent wasn’t about her need to find something all-encompassing to fill her days. It had truly been about him.
About them together.
She’d found something special, and then lost it just as fast.
Chapter 33
Amy returned home that night to one very exuberant dog. Even before she opened the door, Darwin’s barks of joy greeted her loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. He transitioned from barking to whining once she was inside the house, spinning in joyful, energetic circles and unleashing a flurry of dog hair in the process.
Amy sank to the floor so they were at the same level. “It’s good to see you, too, boy,” she said with a laugh.
After they’d had their proper hello, she searched the premises for any sign of destruction or ill-timed potty breaks. Fortunately, though, the house was exactly as she’d left it.
“Good boy,” she cried, initiating another enthusiastic round of petting.
Despite her worries, Darwin had been a perfect angel. Now only one issue remained—his behavior with the cat. Correcting that would probably take time more than any one specific training method.
Even though Darwin’s greetings were quite loud, Amy decided she liked coming home to someone who acted as if her return was the high point in his entire day. Belle had always greeted her with a croaky meow before running back to whatever she’d been doing before Amy’s arrival. She really hoped that, given time and increased tolerance of each other, her two pets would begin to wait together.
Even though she’d always considered herself a cat person at heart, she liked that she never had to guess what Darwin was feeling or whether he enjoyed her company. His constantly wagging tail, along with the fact that he followed half a pace behind her whenever she moved about the house, was proof enough of that.
“Dogs are better than dudes,” she told her new beagle friend as she scratched him behind the ears. “They should put that on a poster.”
* * *
School the next day went pretty well for a Monday. Olivia brought in more photos and stories of Jet to share with her classmates, and some of the other little girls even began volunteering to partner up with her for group activities. You’d almost never know she’d been so terribly shy just weeks earlier.
And even though Amy found herself a bit angry with Trent for not following through on the after-school mentoring, it no longer seemed that Olivia needed it. Now that she was happy and talking, she had no trouble completing her classwork satisfactorily, either.
To think, she’d lost a mom and all it took was a dog to bring a smile back to her face. Of course, that was an oversimplification. Trent and Amy had both put in the time to help, and time itself had assisted
as well, but still . . . It sure did feel as if the rescued black Lab had ushered in a real turning point.
Everyone needs a friend, Amy realized. And, sure enough, Olivia had opened herself up to one and gained many. Funny how that worked.
As for Amy, she already had great friends, friends who loved her so much they couldn’t resist meddling when they thought it would accomplish something positive for her. As far as problems went, it wasn’t the worst one to have.
As Trent had said at the dog park, he felt he was mourning his lost wife and Amy—and for a while, she’d felt that way, too. But seeing Olivia now as she ran and played with her new friends on the playground, she realized a deep truth she’d been ignoring all this time.
It’s not about what you don’t have. It’s about what you do.
Nothing had changed in Amy’s world when she’d met Trent. She still had all the same amazing reasons to be thankful and love life. She’d only lost focus on them for a short while.
Well, no more. You change your life by changing your heart. She’d read that in one of the books Nichole had lent her when this all started, and the idea resonated with her now.
She left school that afternoon with a smile on her face and resolve in her heart. Life didn’t have to change to be great, because it already was. And to celebrate, she’d just swing through her favorite drive-through, and . . .
Cah-clunk!
Something rattled and sputtered under her hood when she turned onto Tudor Road.
“Oh, no, no, no!” Amy cried as the lights on her dashboard lit up like a city skyline. Suddenly, there were so many illuminated symbols, she didn’t even know where to look.
Luckily, her car was still running, but for how much longer? And would this always happen when she tried to enjoy a little bit of greasy comfort food? Apparently, she’d be going on a diet for her automotive health rather than her personal welfare.
Realizing she was close enough to stop in at the same little mechanic shop attached to that big car dealership, she immediately navigated straight to it. The same desk attendant she’d met before ran outside to greet her.
The Sunday Potluck Club Page 14
