Chapter 18
T he next morning, Aiden is in the kitchen when I come out of my bedroom. He’s rattling around the cabinets and groaning.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say in a bright voice. “What are ya looking for?”
“Aspirin,” he says with another groan.
I wince. “Hangover that bad, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Hang on a sec.” I disappear into my bedroom and return a minute later with two aspirin tablets.
“Thank you.” He takes them from me and immediately gulps them down with a glass of water before asking, “You travel with aspirin?”
“I travel with a small pharmacy,” I tell him. “You can never be too careful.”
“Wise.”
I take a bow. “Thank you.”
I am pouring the pumpkin-spice creamer into my coffee mug when he says, “About last night. Is there anything I need to apologize for?”
“Apologize for?” I’m willing to play dumb forever. I’m committed.
“I was pretty drunk. Did I say anything that offended you?”
“No.” I shake my head and pull my mug to my lips. Ah, that first sip is truly divine.
“Good.” His smile turns devilish. “And it’s nice to know you can’t stop thinking about me.”
My eyes go wide. I lower the mug to the counter. “Hey, I thought you’d be too drunk to remember that.”
“I wasn’t.” Did he just wink at me?
“You said it first,” I point out.
“I know.” His face loses all trace of humor, and he looks at me intently. “I meant it.”
I can’t say anything but the truth. “I meant it too.”
I don’t point out that he also said he has had a crush on me forever.
Even though I spent longer than I should have last night thinking about it.
I don’t want to embarrass him. I probably shouldn’t have taken advantage by asking him questions while he was drunk.
I feel a little guilty about that this morning.
But I did learn some interesting things.
“Look, Ellie. I know things are complicated, but I like you.”
“I like you too,” I breathe. My chest is so tight it hurts.
He runs a hand through his hair. “And I don’t want to make it any more difficult.”
I nearly sigh in relief. “Me either.” I mean, it would be really fun to have a no-strings-attached thing with Aiden, but now that I know he’s had a crush on me and was hurt when I left, I cannot lead this man on. I have a crush on him too now, but I refuse to hurt him anymore. Ever.
“So, just friends?” he says, holding out his hand to me.
“Just friends,” I agree.
We shake. But I can’t help the shiver that goes through my body when he touches me. I only hope he didn’t notice. I also can’t help but think this isn’t the first time we’ve agreed to keep things only professional. Second time’s the charm? We have to try, at least.
Aiden retreats to his bedroom, and I retreat to mine. We only have six more days to work together on the festival. Then I’ll find a job (any job) and get out of here asap. In the meantime, Aiden and I will keep things strictly professional.
How hard could it be?
I’m about to grab my laptop and head down to the lobby, when my phone rings. I glance at it to see that Charlotte is calling. I answer and click speakerphone. “Hey, Charlotte,” I say. “What’s up?”
“We have a problem,” Charlotte announces. “Pumpkin is missing!”
I shake my head. “Wait. What? What do you mean?”
“I mean we can’t find Pumpkin anywhere. He’s been really popular online, you know? We think he may have been dognapped.”
“Dognapped?” Oh damn. I never even considered that possibility.
I mean, it happens, but usually to French bulldogs, right?
Didn’t Lady Gaga have to pay a dog ransom or something?
We can’t afford that. Besides, who would want to steal Pumpkin?
He’s a pug and a curmudgeonly one at that.
“Don’t worry,” I tell Charlotte. “I’ll be right there. ”
I hang up and rush into the living room. Aiden must have heard my raised voice, because he’s standing in his doorway looking at me expectantly.
“Mom and Dad think Pumpkin’s been dognapped,” I say, grabbing my jacket.
“Let’s go,” Aiden says, not even bothering to question the word dognapped , which I appreciate.
Aiden and I scramble down the staircase and knock on the door that leads to Mom and Dad’s apartment. Charlotte rips it open. It’s just her and Mom in there.
“Have you found him?” I ask. Because it’s more likely that Pumpkin is asleep somewhere than stolen. I’m hoping this will all be over in a few minutes, and we’ll just find P-dog snoozing somewhere like the little potato lump that he is.
“I’ve searched everywhere,” Mom says. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears.
I squeeze her hands. “We’ll find him,” I promise.
Charlotte pulls up her phone and hands it to me. It’s a picture of Pumpkin on the front porch of the inn with his PJs on. “This is the last picture I took of him. It got over 100K likes.”
Wow. Is Pumpkin an influencer? A pupfluencer?
“When’s the last time you saw him?” Aiden asks.
Mom is wringing her hands. “He was in his bed behind the front desk with me about a half hour ago. I left to carry a stack of napkins to the dining room, and I can’t remember if he was still there when I came back. I think so. But I can’t say for sure.”
“When did you notice he was missing?” I ask.
“About fifteen minutes ago,” Mom replies. “I looked down and realized he wasn’t in his bed. But he couldn’t have gotten out of the front desk area alone.”
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“He’s still looking for Pumpkin on the first floor. You don’t think one of the guests took him, do you?” Mom’s voice is panicked. I feel awful for her. If Pumpkin was snatched, it’s probably my fault. I’m the one who decided making him famous would be a good idea.
“Did anyone check out recently?” I ask.
Mom bites her lip. “One couple. I’d say about twenty minutes ago.”
I narrow my eyes. “How old were they?”
“They were young. Late twenties, maybe.”
I wince. I was hoping she wouldn’t say that. An older couple isn’t likely to steal a pupfluencer, but a younger one just might.
“Did they bring a car?” Aiden asks. “If so, we need to find out what make and model it is.”
“Let me look at their reservation,” Mom says. She hurries toward the door to the front desk and Aiden, Charlotte, and I follow.
“I really hope making Pumpkin famous didn’t cause someone to steal him,” Charlotte says. She looks miserable. Her face is lined with worry. It’s clear she feels guilty too.
I pat her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who wanted Pumpkin to draw in a crowd. You did a great job with the pictures of him.”
Charlotte nods, but she doesn’t look any happier. “Yeah, maybe too great,” she mumbles.
While Mom is pulling up the couple’s registration, I quickly text Maria.
we can’t find pumpkin
don’t you have more than one? she quickly replies.
the dog.
Oh shit. He’s one of the biggest draws for the festival.
Umm, and we love him.
Oh, yeah, that too. She sends an upside-down face emoji.
I shake my head. Maria’s always thinking about PR. She’s never been much of a pet person. But she’s right. Pumpkin is a big draw for the festival, and his fame may have just gotten him stolen. I’ve got to fix this.
“Here it is,” Mom announces. “They did have a car.” She exhales a sigh of relief. “They’re from Connecticut. It’s a white SUV.”
“White SUV with Connecticut plates, got it,” Aiden says. “I’ll go look for the car in the parking lot. They may still be here.” He rushes from behind the desk and out the front door.
Dad comes hurrying into the lobby from the corridor to the dining room. He’s out of breath, and his hair is mussed. Poor Dad. “I didn’t find him anywhere on the first floor,” he announces.
Mom’s face falls.
“Is there any place Pumpkin likes to post up lately?” I ask. “You’ve checked the laundry room, right?”
“That was the first place I looked,” Mom replies. “But his PJs aren’t being washed.”
“I’ll go check outside,” Dad says. “Around the perimeter of the inn. Maybe someone left a door open.”
He’s gone in seconds, but Mom and Charlotte and I are not hopeful.
The reason they have a swinging wooden half door on the front desk area is so that Pumpkin can’t get out.
He normally keeps his chonky self in his little bed behind the front desk or wanders into the apartment if that door is open, but he’s rarely allowed to stroll around the inn.
And if he does, he stays in the lobby. Puppy is a creature of habit, for real.
see anything? I text to Aiden. But honestly it seems like a long shot that the couple would still be here. Especially if they did steal Pumpkin. Why would they stick around?
We should probably call the police, but what do they even do in a dognapping? Would they put out an APB for the white SUV? And what if they’re just an innocent couple who left the inn, and we have them pulled over for suspected dog thievery?
There’s one thing I do know, and that is I’m glad that this is happening during an event I am planning on my own.
If Steve were involved in this, he’d be losing his ish .
He’d be blowing up my phone with a hundred dumb questions and bad ideas.
I take a deep breath. I can handle this.
I have handled a hundred last-minute issues in my tenure as an event planner.
This may be my first potential dognapping case, but a crisis is a crisis.
a white SUV with CT plates is in the lot , comes Aiden’s text.
it’s empty tho , follows soon after.
I narrow my eyes as I repeat the texts to Mom and Charlotte. Hmm. If the couple is still here and they have Pumpkin, where are they?
I pull up Pumpkin’s social media account on my phone.
There’s the picture of him on the front porch of the inn.
There’s a picture of him behind the front desk, snoozing in his bed.
There’s a picture of him sitting next to an actual pumpkin in the lobby.
All adorable, of course. Charlotte’s really good at taking pictures. But nothing here is giving me a clue.
Wait. What if...? “What’s Pumpkin’s most liked photo?” I ask Charlotte.