Just then, a little boy, about the age of Pru’s cousin Christian, leaned out from the first train car to reach for Tor, who obliged by lowering his head for a pet.
“This is Tor,” Pru said, putting her hand on the dog’s head to show how friendly he was. “He’s a very special dog.”
“How come?” the boy asked.
“Because,” Lucas said. “He’s Mrs. Claus’s very own dog, and he has a message and gift from her.” He did a goofy little bow, then slapped a Post-it Note on the candy cane wrapper and extended it to the boy. “Good tidings from Mrs. Claus.”
The little boy looked up at him, his expression saying he had no idea what good tidings were.
“We call them…Tor Tidings!” Lucas added, cracking Pru up as she rushed to find her phone.
“Tor Tidings, Lucas?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he joked. “And let’s try and look inside each car as it passes, too.”
“Go ahead, Ashton,” the boy’s mother said when he glanced at her for permission. “Take the dog’s note, and let’s read it.”
He took the note and candy cane, ripping into the wrapper as his mother read the note. “It says, ‘Christmas in the heart puts Christmas in the air.’ Aww, so sweet. Thank you!”
“Thank Tor,” Lucas said. “He’s spreading Christmas cheer.”
The train started a slow chug, bringing the next car to Tor.
“This is brilliant.” Pru sang the word as she stepped back to take a picture of Lucas and Tor greeting the next little girl, who reached out a grabby hand.
“I want one!” the little girl called out. “I want a Tor Tiding!”
This time, Lucas stuck the Post-it Note to the tip of Tor’s nose, making the little girl release a gale of giggles as she got her candy cane, and Lucas got a look at the inside of the little car.
“Read it, Daddy!” she demanded, reaching for the note. Pru managed to get a picture right as she got the note.
“All right.” Her father took the paper and cleared his throat to make it official. “‘Peace on earth will come to stay when we have Christmas every day.’”
That got a little cheer from the onlookers who’d gathered to see what the extraordinary dog was doing. The next car came up to them with two little sisters in Christmas sweaters begging for their Tor Tidings from the tip of the dog’s nose. Their parents read the note, and the same thing happened with the next car, and pretty soon, it was like a chorus of Christmas by kids and their parents.
“‘Christmas waves a magic wand, and everything is beautiful!’”
“‘Holidays are about opening our hearts, not presents!’”
“‘Give hugs, not gifts!’”
“‘Christmas isn’t a season, it’s a feeling!’”
Pru snapped a dozen pictures, then took a video of a little boy petting Tor and getting a lick, his heartfelt laughter as musical as all of Gramma Finnie’s sayings being read out loud. Lucas did his very best to check each train car for the missing puppy.
As the train pulled away, they spotted the cameraman from the local TV station, walking along with one of the cars, filming the whole thing. He turned the lens to a blond woman who held a microphone and started talking.
“It’s Christmas Eve at the Vestal Village Mall and—”
Just then, Tor barked and pulled Lucas toward the train, yanking on his leash.
The cameraman shot a look at them.
“He wants to run after the train,” Lucas said, jogging a little to keep up with Tor.
“Just run with him.” Pru gave him a nudge. “Before we end up on the evening news.”
They took off with Tor, who caught up with the caboose, which had a bench running along the back car, facing backward. He batted at it with his paw, barking and trying to get on board.
With an exchange of a quick look, Pru and Lucas both shrugged, and when the train slowed to a crawl for some foot traffic ahead, they let Tor jump onto the train and climbed up after him, tucking into the tiny seat facing out to the mall.
The train picked up speed, and they just laughed while Tor got right between them, his paws on the seat, turning to look at the train cars.
“Nice RACK work!” Lucas said, looking over Tor’s back at Pru. “That’s gotta be worth some points.”
“I’m going to submit the pictures and video right now.” Pru tapped her screen, looking for the RACK IT UP app. “But weren’t we supposed to find that puppy?”
“I guess Tor got a little too distracted.”
After a moment, Tor gave up and stretched himself over Pru’s lap while Lucas lifted his backside onto his lap, both of them holding tight so he didn’t slide off.
“And now he sleeps,” Pru cracked. “The dog with no in-between mode. Off or on.”
Lucas leaned back, his whole body relaxing as the dog did, resting so that his shoulder and arm pressed against Pru’s. “But at least we did one random act. I know this day hasn’t exactly gone as you planned.”
She took a breath, the scent of leather and something very masculine filling her nose. “No, it hasn’t,” she admitted, smiling up at him. “But that was super creative.”
“Let’s see what the judges think.”
She eyed the scores on her phone and let out a sigh. “Dang. Bitter Bark is in third!”
“Really? Let me see that.” He put his hand on her phone, and their fingers brushed, and Pru tried not to react. At least not visibly. It was one thing to get a Christmas crush on Lucas Darling—it would be a whole new level of embarrassing if he figured it out.
“Jeez,” he blinked at the phone. “Fifty points behind Sweetwater Springs and seventy behind Holly Hills. Doesn’t look good for the old home team.”
She leaned back in the tiny seat. “So no Winter Formal for us. Not that you probably care, but I—”
“Why wouldn’t I care?” he asked.
“Oh, because you don’t seem, you know…” Like the kind of guy who’d give a hoot about a dance. But then, he also didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d hand out Tor Tidings to a train full of kids. “I just didn’t think you knew that many people yet.”
He studied her for a moment, a little bit of a light in his eyes like he was about to say something flirtatious, but then he looked forward. “It’s never easy to drop into a school in the middle of a semester.”
“I would imagine,” she said. “It must have been difficult leaving your old school.”
“Not really. I didn’t miss my school. I missed…” He let his voice trail off, looking out at the stores. “I wonder where that puppy got to.”
“What do you miss?” Pru asked softly, crazy-curious about what made this complicated boy tick. Plus, it had to be that girl. Had to be.
He slid her a look. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Waiting a beat, he let out a sigh, stroking the sleeping dog. “I wouldn’t tell this to just anyone.”
The butterflies that had gone dormant while they RACKed up points suddenly woke up, shook off, and dive-bombed in Pru’s belly. “Oh, okay. What is it?”
“I mean, I kinda trust you.” He held her gaze for a heartbeat or two. A noisy, hit-your-ribs kind of heartbeat.
“You do?” She sounded a little breathless, but couldn’t really help it. Lucas made her dizzy and that was all there was to it.
“Because of them.” He notched his chin in the general direction they’d come from, way back at the food court. “I can tell you have a special relationship with your grannies, so I trust you.”
That made her smile. “I do, but I’m not sure why that would make you trust me.”
“Because you get…that kind of relationship.” He shifted in his seat for a second as if he was uncomfortable for more reasons than half an eighty-pound dog on his lap. “I miss my nanny, and if you laugh, I swear to God, Tor and I will jump off this train.”
His nanny? “I’m not laughing,” she said, looking hard
at him. “I’m not even smiling. You have a nanny, or is that what you call your grandmother?”
“No, I mean my actual nanny. Like Mary Poppins, only imagine her older and with a thick Colombian accent. When I was little, Drina was my nanny and our housekeeper. As I got older, we just became…” He shrugged. “Like you and your Gramma Finnie. My parents, even before they split up, were never—and I do mean never—around. I don’t have any siblings, just a few steps I can’t stand. But back when I was little? It was basically me and Drina, all the time in that massive house in the hills.”
“Drina. She has a pretty name.”
“Had.” The word came out thick, and she wasn’t sure she understood. “She died.”
“Oh, Lucas. I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his, and for once the contact wasn’t electrifying, but warm and, she hoped, comforting. “What happened?”
“She went to Florida for a vacation with her sister. While she was there, she adopted Tor, because she was nuts like that.” He grinned and pet the dog, whose tail flipped when he heard his name. “Seriously, one of the most fun people I ever knew. Life was one adventure after another, and there was nothing that woman loved as much as helping other people.” He stroked Tor’s head. “And some dogs.”
“Aww.” She watched his expression soften, amazed that this gentle side of him was even more attractive than the fun, good-looking guy she’d been getting to know all day. “What happened?” she asked. “Was she sick?”
“Not at all. She was only back from Florida for a week or so, and she just…” He shook his head. “She had a stroke and died the next day.”
Pru put her hand over her mouth, unable to do anything but imagine that kind of pain, closing her eyes to think of Gramma Finnie’s soft hands and sweet brogue and the way she always smelled like talcum powder. “I’m so terribly sorry for you.”
He swallowed noisily and nodded, clenching his jaw like he was fighting back emotion. “She was seventy-five, but really young at heart. Still cleaned my dad’s house and took care of everything, but I know she wanted to retire. Wouldn’t do it until I went to college, she said, otherwise I’d be alone.”
Pru’s heart practically shattered. “Lucas, I’m sorry for you.”
“The day after Drina’s funeral, my dad said he was taking Tor to a shelter. I think he knew what I’d do when he said that.”
“Run away,” she guessed.
“I didn’t run away,” he said. “That implies leaving someone who cares.”
She gave his hand a squeeze, wishing she could erase the bitter tone.
“But Drina’s sister was there for the funeral, Ivette Hernandez. She invited me to come to Bitter Bark and to bring Tor.” He shrugged. “So I did.”
“Wow,” she whispered. “That’s…”
He turned his hand to thread his fingers through hers and give her a warm look. “I knew I could trust you. I know the ‘my nanny died’ story isn’t quite the same caliber as the rumors that have been flying since I got to Bitter Bark High.”
She laughed. “You do have a bad-boy look about you.”
A smile pulled at his lips. “And you have a good-girl vibe.”
The train stopped again, and Tor pushed up, shook off, and raised his front paws to the bench, sticking his head between them to watch the kids get off and the next set arrive, kind of blocking their view of each other, but they still held hands.
Suddenly, Tor barked and leaned forward, sniffing and letting out a soft whine.
They turned to see what had his attention, peering through the mix of kids and parents getting on board.
Tor barked again, pushing higher, trying to climb into the next car of the train.
“No, boy. No.” Lucas got a hold of his collar and tried to get him down, but he resisted with his full weight, his intense gaze locked on something.
“What is it?” Pru asked, twisting completely on the caboose bench to get a better look. She grabbed his arm. “Oh my God, Lucas! Look!”
From their vantage point, they could see under the seats, and there, right in the middle, curled into a corner between two big shopping bags, was a tiny brown and white puppy.
“There he is!” they both exclaimed together just as the train started up.
Tor barked wildly, but they were moving too fast to safely jump off and run up to that car.
“Hang on, Tor.” He wrapped his arm around Tor’s neck, trying to calm him. “Keep your eye on Buttercup, Pru.”
“I am.” She turned completely, kneeling on the bench. “Should I call out to those people sitting there?”
But she knew that would be a waste of time, because the whistle was blowing, bells were ringing on the train speaker, and the wheels and engine noise were too loud.
“They won’t hear you,” he said, stroking Tor’s neck. “But we have him now, and we can return him to the pet store. That’s all that matters.”
She locked her gaze on the tiny puppy, but put her hand on top of Lucas’s, resting on Tor’s head. “Thanks for trusting me,” she said softly. “I get the granny-nanny love. I really do.”
“Thanks for not judging me.”
“I figured it was an ex-girlfriend.”
He snorted. “As if.”
She risked taking her gaze off the dog for one second to send him a look. “Don’t try to make me think you haven’t had a ton of them.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Think what you want. I’m picky.” They held each other’s gazes for a few seconds, then she heard the fake screech of brakes as the train came to a stop.
Pru turned back to the puppy…who was gone.
“No!” she cried out, squeezing the metal of the caboose back.
“Where did he go?” Lucas turned. “Does she have him?”
The woman who’d been in that car was stepping off the train with two kids in tow and multiple bags in her hand.
“Is the puppy in one of the shopping bags?”
“Maybe.” Lucas stood and climbed off the little platform of the caboose, holding out his hand to Pru. “Let’s follow her.”
“Watch out!” she cried as three golf carts suddenly pulled up and unloaded about twenty people, all of them dressed in old-school winter garb, authentic right down to the fur muffs the women held.
“Merry Christmas!” they called out, blocking Pru and Lucas from moving as they formed a semicircle and started belting out, “God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay!”
But everything dismayed!
“Carolers,” Lucas muttered, trying to see past them to the woman with the bags. “Seriously?”
They tried to move left, then right, around the singers, but already a crowd of onlookers had gathered, essentially forming a human roadblock across the mall. Precious seconds ticked away as Tor pulled one way, then the other, and the puppy got farther and farther away.
“Get back on the train!” Pru said, scrambling toward the caboose as it started to move. “They have to let it through!”
They managed to climb back on just as the train picked up speed, and the crowd broke to let it through. It was the perfect solution, but the whole thing took so long, they couldn’t find the woman with the bags anywhere in the crowd.
“Keep looking,” Pru said, standing to scan every person. “She had light hair and a navy jacket.”
“Like fifty million other people,” Lucas replied, peering into the crowds.
“Hey. It’s Christmas. Anything’s possible.”
“Wait! Is that her?” He pointed toward the wide opening of another department store a good fifty yards away at a blonde with two kids, many bags, and a navy jacket.
“Maybe. Hard to tell.”
“Let’s give it a shot. You want to wait here?” he asked.
Pru hesitated for a nanosecond. “Not a chance.”
Lucas jumped off first, and Tor followed, then Pru leaped off, caught her balance, and laughed. “Get that puppy!”
“Did you hear that, Tor? Permission to run and
get that puppy! Run!” He unclipped the leash, and Tor took off like a bolt of lightning, and all they could do was hold hands and run after him, left in the greyhound’s dust.
Chapter Twelve
Agnes’s heart thumped as she walked toward the FBI men deep in conversation with Finnie. She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She’d learned her lesson as a young girl about letting a handsome man lead her astray, right? This wasn’t the dumbest thing she’d ever done, was it?
Because Aldo sure seemed…nice.
“He’s right there,” Finnie said, turning to point and aiming directly at Agnes. “Oh, lass. ’Tis you.”
“He was there,” Agnes said. “But I’m sure he’s gone by now.”
The big man looked past her. “No, he’s there.”
He was? She spun around, surprised to see Aldo still sitting at the table, leaning back, his arms crossed, a smug smile on his face. “I thought he’d run.”
Good Lord, had she misjudged him?
“Is Aldo a friend of yours, ma’am?” the other man—Sammy, if she recalled correctly—asked.
A friend? He could have been, she thought, tearing her gaze from his. “Not really. I suppose he’s tired of running from you guys.”
Sammy let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, Big Mike and I can be awfully persistent, but we’re not getting anywhere with him at all. Maybe you could help us out?”
Finnie gasped softly. “’Tisn’t likely we’ll get in the middle of this.” She slipped her arm around Agnes’s. “Come on, before we get shot.”
“Shot?” Sammy snorted a laugh. “We’re not that determined to get the business, ma’am.”
Finnie was pulling her away, but Agnes stood firm, turning to him. “To get the business? Is that a code word for bringing in a wanted criminal?”
The two men stared at her, then at each other, then at her again. “Pardon me?” they asked in perfect unison.
Another little thread of discomfort pulled at her heart. “A wanted criminal,” she said, a little louder this time. “You’re with the FBI, and he’s…” She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, he was still there, folding a piece of paper as he watched her, that semi-amused smile still pulling at his lips.
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