Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miles
Miles walked off set and down the back hallway to his dressing room.
Day two of “Building Your Nest Egg at Any Age” had just wrapped.
Today’s guests were empty nesters, Sara Beth and Jeff, an overly friendly couple from Atlanta who wore matching shirts and wide grins.
They’d managed to send two children to college but were behind on saving for retirement.
The segment had gone well, although the overly flirty Sara Beth had grabbed Miles’s biceps several times.
Every time Sara Beth said “y’all,” Miles felt a pang in his gut as he thought of Avery.
The past two nights, he’d replayed the moments before and after the fundraiser more times than a HazMat with the newly dropped Hazel Matheson album.
He’d examined every nuance, and it all came down to his silence.
As much as he hated to admit it, Miles hadn’t gone to find her at the party.
He’d found it easier talk to people alone, which saved him the stress of working her into the conversation.
Avery deserved a pass for not sticking by his side that night.
He wanted to explain what roiled through him every time he grabbed his chest, but that needed to be said face-to-face. Avery had texted him a photo of her blueberry Lemon Drop martini last night. Her focus today was Lily and the puffins, as it should be.
He’d join the hosts out on the plaza in a few minutes for the last segment.
After that, he had a Zoom with tomorrow’s guest, a woman his age who’d almost paid off her debts using the CashCache app and needed advice on how to start saving.
This was his favorite financial challenge, because nothing compared to the feeling of conquering your debt.
Miles nimbly maneuvered around the dog crates crowding the Bright and Early hallway.
This week was National Pet Adoption Week, and Victoria had partnered with FLOP—For the Love of Pups—a local rescue, for a special series.
All week, the on-air personalities played with pets awaiting adoption during the show’s closing minutes.
At the end of the previous day’s show, Miles brought out an older dog who loved to play fetch.
Someone in the crowd had adopted him while the segment aired.
Victoria had closed the show while wiping away happy tears.
Miles wanted to duck into his dressing room for a minute of downtime.
The banter leading into commercial sometimes wore down his social battery, and a few minutes alone helped him recharge so he could be vibrant and engaging on air.
Ahead in the hallway, Paulson leaned against the wall outside Victoria’s dressing room, holding a tiny white puppy.
Miles was still sore over Paulson occupying so much of Avery’s time at the party, but he smiled because Paulson’s donation meant they could buy the retreat.
“Hey, Miles,” Paulson called.
“Paulson.” Miles walked over and gave Paulson a fist bump.
“Vic wants me to adopt this pup.” He held the puppy to his nose. “What do you think?”
Seeing Paulson here could only mean one thing.
Avery’s introduction had worked. Miles could’ve done it a year ago, and he felt bad for denying Paulson the beaming grin on his face.
Paulson was already calling her “Vic,” visiting her at work, and considering adopting a dog for her.
After three days. Bright and Early had done a segment on insta-love once. This scenario checked all the boxes.
“He’s awfully cute.” Miles smiled as the puppy licked Paulson’s nose. “And I think he likes you.”
“I bet he likes to fish,” Paulson said.
Any situation involving an endless supply of food sounded like a dog’s dream, but Miles kept that to himself. A sanitation worker had found the dog when dumping out a trash can. Paulson had already vastly improved this puppy’s life.
“Thank you so much for your support on Saturday.” Miles scratched the puppy’s head. “It meant a lot.”
A blush rose in Paulson’s cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me.” He settled the puppy on his arm and rubbed its ears. “As someone who’s essentially lost a parent, I appreciate the difference Camp Luciole will make in people’s lives. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Ah, the famous phone call. Miles pressed his lips into a line, wondering what was so important that Avery had mentioned it, yet so trivial Paulson had let it wait for almost a month.
“Avery said you were going to call me a while back,” Miles said.
“Sorry.” Paulson glanced at the puppy. “I could lie and blame my reluctance on being busy, but honestly, Miles, you intimidate the hell out of me.”
If Miles had been drinking water, he’d have done a spit take.
Paulson had never seemed intimidated by anyone.
In college, Paulson told extravagant stories and took his friends on ridiculous spring break trips, like sailing the Carter yacht in the Seychelles.
Miles had assumed Paulson never included him because Paulson found Miles beneath him.
But Miles ran track and couldn’t have gone on spring break anyway.
“I intimidate you?” He paused between each word. The puppy gave Miles a sleepy side-eye reminiscent of Casper, and Miles wondered why some dogs seemed to read him the wrong way.
“Yeah.” Paulson smiled. “Don’t you get that a lot? You never open up, at least not with me. No matter what I do, I seem to irritate you.”
He had a point. Miles often gave one-word responses to Paulson’s questions.
The semester after Miles’s mother died, Paulson had gone beyond the usual condolences and attempted to talk to Miles about his grief.
And maybe there had been good intentions, but it felt intrusive when all Miles wanted was to dissociate.
He couldn’t carry Paulson’s pain too, which made him feel inadequate as a friend.
Miles had gone to great lengths to avoid Paulson ever since, which was intimidating, rude, and unfriendly.
Miles rubbed his clean-shaven face, aware he’d learned a lot about himself in the last couple days.
“Paulson, how about you tell me what the phone call was supposed to be about, and I’ll listen.” For once. Everyone had to start somewhere.
“The corporate retreat on Linden Lake,” Paulson said. “Carter Hotels was the other interested party. My father wanted to open a lake resort, so he sent me to check the place out.”
So when Paulson had shown up at Montressa, he had been up to something.
“Okay.” Miles clenched his jaw. If he’d needed to, he’d have fought Carter Hotels to preserve his camp, the Red House, and Montressa. But none of that made sense anymore, given Paulson’s donation. He needed to hear whatever Paulson had to say.
“I got to know Nate at a hotel conference and when I stopped by Montressa, Avery really sold me on what a special place it was. One day I was on a site visit at the retreat, and she paddled by in a canoe with Casper.”
The only day Miles knew Avery took Casper out in a canoe was the day she had visited the Red House and picked his backsplash. The day she first mentioned Paulson would call him. Miles reminded himself to listen and tried to relax his intimidating rock-hard expression.
“When I told her we wanted to buy it, she spilled the tea about your camp.” Paulson wiped his brow. “That convinced me to pass the retreat. I asked her to let me call you, but I never did. I’m sorry.”
Sweet Avery, she valued people and honored promises. When she could’ve walked away or said nothing, she’d protected Camp Luciole because she knew how much it mattered to Miles.
“So, I told Dad it wasn’t the right spot,” Paulson said.
“But we thoroughly studied that land. I hate to see you pay what they’re asking, which is too much.
Especially since it needs a new septic field.
It seems wasteful for you to repeat what we already did.
I can email the report over and I’d be willing to help you draft an offer, if you want help. ”
Miles had only bought property twice, and both the Red House and his apartment were residences. Commercial real estate transactions were more complicated, and he could use some help from a seasoned expert like Paulson. There was only one thing to say.
“Um, yes to all of that.” Miles couldn’t control his smile. “This is … wow. Paulson, this is so generous.”
Paulson’s phone rang.
“Hang on a second, Miles. This’ll be quick.” He pressed accept, put the phone to his ear, and stepped into Victoria’s open dressing room. “Hello…”
A production assistant and the FLOP rescue coordinator appeared with a shaggy red puppy.
“Mr. Magrum.” The production assistant checked her clipboard and handed him a blue card. “Your dog for the show closing is Tabasco. Here’s her information.”
Miles picked up the puppy and stared into its almond-shaped eyes.
Tabasco whimpered and Miles settled her in his arm, determined to protect her.
She needed a safe, loving home. Avery would love this puppy.
He wanted to give it to her, but when the rescue agency had been on the show during the holidays, they’d said gifting someone a puppy was giving them a fifteen-year obligation.
The Coopers never seemed to mind their finite commitment to Casper.
He ate her lip balm and ran away sometimes, and Avery loved Casper as if he were her own.
Miles imagined himself with a dog, throwing a stick off his dock and watching the dog leap in after it.
Or riding on his boat. He could get one of those rope leashes, throw on his sunglasses, and walk her around the City.
While he’d been petting Tabasco, his mind stilled, his body relaxed, and his jaw unwound. This must be why dog owners didn’t mind picking up poop or getting sneezed on. Miles watched as Tabasco nuzzled the crook of his elbow. He could’ve sworn he saw the dog smile as she drifted off to sleep.
Pet owners were signing up for his biggest fear.
People adopted dogs knowing they would outlive them.
Again and again, they signed up for love, despite the inevitable loss.
They chose to walk into a situation they knew ended with sadness and grief.
Hayes must be right. Winning the love lottery must be worth whatever pain lay ahead.
Miles bounced on his toes, adjusting to the hope filling his heart. He’d discuss this people and dogs revelation and what it meant for his future with his therapist later this afternoon.
Paulson stepped back into the hallway, still holding his puppy. “My office is sending over the documents now.”
“Thank you, Paulson,” Miles said. “I can pay you, or we can work out a donation.”
“Pfft, you don’t need to pay me.” Paulson waved off the offer.
“Take me out for a drink at the Marlton. And if a spot opens up on your board, consider me. I know our losses are different, but I believe in what you’re doing.
Camp Luciole will have a tremendous impact to the families you serve. Thank you for taking that on.”
Miles had never fully appreciated Paulson’s suffering. And he never would, because grief differed for everyone. Grief didn’t discriminate. So why was he? It was unfair to compare losses. A loss was a loss. A familiar ache rose in Miles’s chest at the thought of Paulson losing his mother.
“I need to give this snowball to Vic.” Paulson shuffled toward the plaza door. “She’s taking him on camera. Will you tell her I want him back as soon as she’s done?”
“Ayuh,” Miles said. “That means yes. It’s a Maine thing.”
“I know.” Paulson laughed. “You say it all the time. It took me a while to figure it out, but I got there.”
As Paulson walked down the hall, Miles realized most of what he’d learned about how people dealt with loss hadn’t come from observing grief camps.
Like him, Hayes had feared love after loss.
There were other kinds of grief too. Paulson still felt pain over his mother’s abandonment.
Sam grieved the loss of his physical fitness.
Avery arrived at Montressa still processing the sale of the Peppered Page and her failed engagement.
Perhaps he and Avery had grieved one another after that summer.
“Mr. Magrum?” The production assistant tapped her clipboard with her pen. “Um, they want you on the plaza.”
Tabasco let out a dream whimper and snuggled closer. The only thing more perfect than this would be having Avery here. He’d found a goal to work toward. For now, the sleeping puppy would be cute on camera.
“You can call me Miles.” He smiled, hoping to make himself less intimidating. He pulled out his phone. “Hey, can you do me a favor and take my picture?”
She snapped a few. He quickly sent one to Avery and stepped out into the sunlit plaza to a loud, collective “Aw,” which did not awaken Tabasco.