Feliz Naughty Dog (The Dogmothers Book 7)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Go, lass. You must do all you can to straighten out this mess.”

  “But what about your RACK points?” Yiayia asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” Pru said. “I mean, what can we do, hand out dollar bills as we walk? We tried that in the pet store, and it only got us in trouble.”

  “Wait!” Gramma Finnie grabbed her bag. “I know what you can do! Not sure if it’s a winning strategy, but…” She fished through her bag and pulled out a pack of red and green Post-it Notes, many of the pages folded.

  “Your idea pad, Gramma?”

  “’Tis the holiday edition,” she said with a yellowed grin. “I’ve been writing down my favorites for the whole month. You can post them all over the mall, and someone’s day is sure to be brightened.”

  Pru smiled at her. “That’s sweet, Gramma, but—”

  Tor started pulling at his leash just as a high-pitched whistle echoed through the whole mall. Tor barked and yanked.

  “He wants to get on Santa’s train,” Lucas said. “Come on, it’s a start.”

  Pru gave him an are you serious? look, then tossed another look to the grannies. “Should I…”

  “On with ye, lass.” Gramma stuffed the notes in her hand. “Find the puppy. Post some happy notes. Save yourselves five hundred dollars! We’ll just stay here and wait for Al Capone.”

  Laughing—because how could she do anything else?—and still holding Lucas’s hand, Pru took off with him for the Christmas train, with Tor leading the way.

  Chapter Ten

  Finnie fussed with the lid of her cup, her gaze down, her narrow shoulders tense. Under her chair, Gala panted lightly, then dropped her chin on Finnie’s rubber-soled shoe.

  “Your mood is rubbing off on Galatea,” Agnes said.

  “It is?” Finnie looked up, clearly pulled out of her thoughts, then reached down to the little dog. “Sweet lassie,” she murmured. “It’s not healthy to be quite as sensitive as you are.”

  “So you don’t deny that you’re upset?”

  “’Tis a complicated day,” she said, looking around. “And I’m a wee bit tired from the runnin’ about.”

  “You? Tired? You never get tired.”

  She gave a sad smile. “I do my best to keep up with you, Agnes.”

  Something shifted in Agnes’s chest. Something that shifted a lot with this woman. Something that, honestly, before she met Finola Kilcannon, rarely had shifted at all.

  “What’s wrong?” Agnes leaned in and put a hand on Finnie’s slightly knotted fingers, not surprised that they were as tense as her shoulders.

  Finnie blinked in surprise. “I think the real question is, ‘What’s right?’” She let out a light, not very genuine, laugh. “‘Tis a day of upheaval and frustration, and on Christmas Eve, no less.”

  “We agreed we would come and check him out, Finnie.”

  “And we did,” she said. “And now we’re waitin’ to turn him in to the authorities. Poor Pru is on the hook for a lot of money, and instead of finishing up our wrappin’ and cookie bakin’, we’re in a crowded mall.”

  It wasn’t what she was saying that concerned Agnes, it was the tone. “I think I can count on one hand the times I’ve heard you be less than positive and enthusiastic, Finnie. I am…” She swallowed. Hard. “I’m sorry I dragged us here today. Let’s leave the minute the kids come back.”

  “Oh.” Finally, Finnie looked right at her, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “What? What’s wrong, Finnie?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice cracked as she shook her head. “I just don’t know what to be thinkin’ anymore.”

  Agnes scanned her friend’s face, looking for a way to read into these words. Every little crinkle and change of expression in her face was so familiar after nearly two years of being inseparable, but she simply couldn’t remember ever seeing this look of…sadness.

  “Finnie, I had no idea this was going to upset you so. If I had, we wouldn’t have come.”

  “It’s not…today. It’s…” She waved a hand and blinked back her tears. “’Tis the season, I suppose.” She added a laugh and tried to sound bright and cheery, but failed miserably. “Why don’t you take a walk around and see if you can find your Aldo, and I’ll watch for—”

  “He’s not my Aldo,” Agnes interjected. “He’s some criminal, and I should have listened to you.”

  “Fine, he’s not yours. But Max was interested in you—”

  “I told you I have no interest in Max Hewitt other than as a friend.”

  “Then it will be…the next one.” She sighed and managed a smile. “One of them will win your heart.”

  For a moment, Agnes didn’t say a word, still processing just what was going on in her friend’s mind. “You know, every time I’ve said you’re jealous, I haven’t meant it. I was joking.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “I know,” she said. “You’re one of the rare—no, no, you are the only female friend I’ve had since being a widow who wasn’t a little jealous of me. That group down in Florida that I socialized with at the apartment complex? Every time I lost a pound or got a new round of Botox or had my hair colored, they judged me. I heard it in their comments, felt it in their looks. But worse, they judged themselves. My wanting to be attractive no matter my age drove a wedge between other women and me. But that has never happened with you.”

  “Those things aren’t important to me, but I respect that they are to you.”

  Agnes didn’t respond, still studying Finnie and trying to figure out where all this emotion was coming from, since it wasn’t jealousy.

  “I’m…scared,” Finnie whispered, so softly the words could barely be heard over the din of shoppers and Christmas carols.

  “Of what?”

  “Of losin’ you.”

  Agnes stared at her. “You think you’re going to lose me?”

  “Of course I am. When the right man comes along, he’ll see what I see.”

  “What you see?” Agnes shook her head. “I don’t follow.”

  “All the things that make you so lovely, lass.” She gave a sad smile. “You’ll make him laugh at your quick wit and convince him to take chances he never dreamed of takin’, and then you’ll have your secret jokes and nicknames for people.”

  “Like we do,” Agnes whispered, the words making Finnie’s eyes fill again.

  “Aye, like I haven’t had with anyone else since…Seamus.” She tried to swallow, but that just made the tears she was fighting slip out and meander over the creases in her cheeks. “The truth is, lass, you’ve made my life so full and fun, so different and exciting again, that I’m bone-deep terrified of livin’ without you.”

  The words landed like a punch to Agnes’s chest, hitting that sweet spot that was saved for so few people. Just Nik, really, and now Finnie.

  “I’m never going to leave you, Finn,” she promised, squeezing Finnie’s hand to show how much she meant those words. “You’re the first and best and most real woman friend I’ve ever had. I walked into that wedding shower for my former daughter-in-law and your son that day, and I could feel every single person in that room tense up because I arrived. My own grandchildren were more than a little afraid of me.”

  Finnie smiled. “They were,” she agreed.

  “But you took me in as your friend. You put your little cardigan-wearing arm around my shoulders and gave me the ultimate Gramma Finnie blessing.”

  She laughed softly. “I liked ye the minute I met ye.”

  “Finnie, no one says that about me.”

  “Then they’re missing out,” she declared. “Yes, you have sharp edges, but you also have vivid color and big ideas and the ability to make the most mundane activity feel like an adventure.”

  Now Agnes felt tears rise. “I do?” Had anyone ever taken the time to see all that in her? Certainly no other woman she’d ever met. “But you’ve made me better, Finnie. So much better.”

  “Aye, you’re a work i
n progress,” she joked. “But I’m not ready to quit, and I know my days with ye are numbered.”

  “Finnie, we’ll always be friends. And family, now. No matter what. Nothing and no one can change that.”

  Finnie tipped her head and lifted a dubious white brow. “Lass, there’s a man around the corner, I just feel it. And I’ll be your friend, but when you meet him, I’ll come second.” Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, gathering her composure. “And that’s why I’ve been absolutely wretched about Aldo Fiore. And why I had that little outburst with Pru, because…she’ll be leavin’ me, too, eventually. I’m ashamed, and I owe you both an apology.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m the one who’s on internet dating sites looking for…” She squeezed Finnie’s hand. “What I have right here.”

  “No kissin’, though.” She winked.

  “I can live without that.” Didn’t really want to, but why was she so busy trying to fill an old need in her life when she had the best friend a person could ever want right here? “But I can’t live without—”

  “Agnes? Is that you?”

  She looked up over Finnie’s head and gasped softly at the man standing behind her. Tall, silver-haired, dark-eyed, and handsome enough to take her breath away.

  “Aldo?”

  He laughed softly. “I thought that was you, but you know, so many people don’t post their real picture. Wow. What a surprise.”

  She swallowed and sat up even straighter, blood thrumming in her head. “Yes, indeed. A surprise.”

  “May I…” He gestured toward the empty chair.

  “Oh, yes, of course, I…” She finally looked at Finnie, whose eyes were wide with shock. “This is my friend,” Agnes said. “Finola Kilcannon. My best friend,” she added with plenty of emphasis. “We actually live together, and we’re such good, happy friends that we…”

  “Hello, Finola.” Aldo didn’t seem to notice her stuttering nonsense, but slid into the chair the Pru had left askew, and extended a hand to Finnie, then did a double take. “Well, I already know you. You’re the scarf woman.” He grinned at her look. “Not likely to forget those glasses.”

  “Oh.” She touched the frames, obviously having forgotten about that disaster since it was, what? Twenty disasters ago. Twenty-one, if Agnes counted sitting face-to-face with Aldo Fiore when she was supposed to be secretly spying on him.

  “Hello…again.” Finnie gave him a tight smile, clearly thrown by this monkey wrench no one had seen coming.

  “And you two are…” He frowned, pointing from one to the other. “Where were you when she was scarf shopping?” he asked Agnes.

  “Buying…something else.”

  “And these little guys?” He looked down at the dogs. “Oh, these must be Pygmalion and Galatea.”

  He remembered her dogs’ names? For some reason, that gave Agnes an unexpected thrill.

  “Gala, the sensitive one,” he said, giving her a little rub. “And Pyggie the…” He threw Agnes a look. “I can see why the name is a little problematic for him.”

  And he remembered her telling him that Pyggie was a tad overweight? “Yes.” She couldn’t help smiling at him and holding that delicious gaze just a few seconds too long. “That’s nice that you remembered.”

  “These little pups need a walk,” Finnie said suddenly, pushing up from the table. “You two can get to know each other in person.”

  “No, Finnie—”

  “Nonsense, lass.” She gathered the leashes and gave Aldo a quick smile, but then her natural one shone through. “’Tis nice to meet you, Mr. Fiore. You made a fine Santa up there.” The very second she said that and Aldo blinked in surprise, Finnie paled. Of course she realized what she’d given away with that sentence. “I best go now!” she said brightly, hustling off with the dogs and leaving Agnes to explain.

  She took a deep breath, watching Finnie walk away and bracing for something like, You came to see me as Santa? and a confounded look, but he was watching Finnie, too. No, no. He was looking past her. And yes, his look was more than confounded as he stood. It was horrified.

  She looked back into the mall, and her gaze landed right on…the men from the FBI, both of them staring at the current Santa, checking their phones, and looking around.

  “Oh, Agnes. I’m in trouble.”

  No kidding.

  “Can you help me?” he asked suddenly.

  She fried him with a look. “Help you avoid the FBI?”

  “How do you…” He dropped back on the seat. “Oh, you’re in on it. You’re part of…of this. What? Did you set this whole thing up? Some big, massive elaborate ruse to…” He choked softly. “What a shame.”

  “A shame?”

  “Yes, a shame. I really liked you.”

  “Oh, as much as you really liked that young mother you hit up for her phone number? The one you said is ‘the one.’ I know your type, Aldo. Sadly, I know it all too well. It was one thing to be a moron for a man when I was eighteen, but at eighty? And, yes, I’m eighty.” A little more, actually, but no need to get crazy and tell him that. “And you…you are…”

  But he was shaking his head and holding up his hand. “Wait, wait. What young mother?”

  “The one you flirted with when you were Santa. Got her phone number and everything.”

  “I got her phone number for my grandson. I’m trying like hell to find him the right woman, and after you told me that you’ve done some matchmaking, I thought I might try it with all my grandkids. I was even going to ask you for some help when we had our date.” He sounded genuinely sad and genuinely…genuine.

  Could she be all wrong about him?

  “What about the lady friend? The one you were shopping for when Finnie—”

  “That was you!” He gave a dry, disbelieving choke. “I wanted to bring a gift to our lunch and surprise you. I wanted to…” His handsome expression formed a scowl, nothing but confusion and doubt etched on his face. “Did you come here to spy on me or to help…” He notched his head toward the men in the middle of the mall. “Them?”

  “I came here because…” She glanced at Finnie, who was getting closer to the FBI agents. In a matter of seconds, they’d be over here to arrest him. And her little Aldo interlude would be over. That was fine. Finnie was right. She didn’t need anyone else, but wow, it had been fun.

  “Why are you here, Agnes?” he demanded.

  “Because I thought I might like you, and I wanted to see you as Santa,” she admitted softly. “I had no idea you were…wanted by them.”

  “Wanted?” He rolled his eyes. “They’re not after me. They’re after my sons. They just think they can bribe me to get to the real power in the operation.”

  She sighed. “So it’s true, then. You are…that kind of man.”

  “What kind of man is that?”

  “The kind…wanted by the FBI.” She pushed up and gathered her bag. “I heard them talk about a corpse and that one of those men is carrying a ghost. They’re going to sting you with a bribe, so there. I’ve helped you. But that’s all you’ll get from me. I’m choosing my friend over…a criminal.”

  He just stared at her, disbelief and hurt in his eyes. “Do you always judge people so harshly, Agnes?”

  She let out a sad sigh. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Have you ever been wrong?”

  “Rarely. But this time, the judgment is warranted. Goodbye, Aldo. It’s been nice.”

  Pivoting, she walked toward the FBI men, who were already talking to Finnie. She didn’t turn and look back, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Why bother? No doubt he’d taken off already. But that was fine. Agnes chose Finnie, the truest friend she’d ever had. And friends were better than men anytime.

  Chapter Eleven

  The train started chugging along after the stop in front of Santa’s Workshop, and Tor pulled them to follow it.

  “He wants to run alongside it,” Lucas said, jogging with the dog to let him get a little
speed.

  “That train is no match for him,” Pru noticed as they easily kept up with the choo-choo full of kids, many with their parents folded into the undersized seats.

  But Tor was determined, trotting along and making the kids turn and wave to him. He stopped at one car and sniffed and barked, then ran to catch up with it as it got away. The whole time, Lucas was threading through the crowds holding the leash, bopping back and forth to keep Tor from plowing someone down.

  Finally, the train stopped right in front of the pet store, where a small crowd had gathered, including someone from a local news station with a minicam on his shoulder.

  Lucas gave Pru a quick look, and they sprinted around the train to get out of the line of view. Tor pulled them to the front, where he pranced a little, his gaze alert as kids started disembarking, then a new set boarded, filling up every seat quickly.

  “He’s so focused on the train,” Pru said.

  “I know. Which makes me wonder if the puppy is on it, or was.”

  The whistle blew three times, and some bells chimed a familiar carol as the wheels started chugging along.

  “Let me see those notes,” Lucas said.

  “Gramma’s ideas?” She handed them over, shaking her head as she could only imagine what he’d say when he read what Gramma Finnie had written. “Brace yourself. My Gramma Finnie should come with a warning. Cuteness dead ahead.”

  He laughed, the chuckle coming from his chest. “No kidding. She’s a living doll.”

  A living doll? She blinked at him, not at all sure what to make of that compliment, which wasn’t anything she’d imagine would come out of his mouth. “Right? I adore her.”

  “I can see why.” He glanced at the first note and smiled, flipping it up to read the next one. “How ’bout those candy canes, Pru?”

  “You want one?”

  He stepped back and glanced down the length of the train. “I want about thirty. And get your camera out.”

  “Why?” she asked as she dug out a handful of little plastic-wrapped candy canes from her backpack.

  He grinned at her. “We’re about to RACK up some points.”