Chapter 25 #2
I hold my breath, bracing for him to say young or good-looking .
“Red-haired,” Gramps concludes. I groan and start to chide him, but he continues, “A red-haired McKinnon. Are you, by any chance, related to the late Callum McKinnon?”
Daniel’s face relaxes into a warm smile. “He was my dad.”
“I knew it. He was our jack-of-all-trades for many years. I was never very handy myself, and Cal never minded coming over to change a single lightbulb.”
“Sounds like Dad.”
“I was sorry to hear about his passing. He was no age to go.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gramps’s attention is pulled away by Lenore’s husband, who is demanding to know Gramps’s opinion on the latest political debate. I shrug at Daniel as if to say, Well, that was your introduction .
“By the way”—Daniel pulls me to one side, up against a rosebush—“is there a place to put presents? I didn’t know what to get, but…” He pulls a small, neatly wrapped package out of his pocket.
“Is it a tie?” I ask.
“It’s socks.”
“Adorable.” I look around and notice a few gifts scattered around the dessert table, which is already full of plates, cups, and cake. “Let me grab something from inside.”
Without hesitation, Daniel follows me through the sunroom and into the dark, bare living room.
He lets out a low whistle. “Sure looks different than the last time I was here. Did I mention that I’m impressed, Rosen?”
Thank goodness the dark room hides the furious blush that colors my cheeks. What is it about him using my last name that gets to me?
“Yep, once or twice.” I try to keep my voice casual as he follows me down the hall. I flip on the light in one of the bedrooms and grab the small stepladder I’d left in there the other day. “There’s no furniture in the house, but I think this should be big enough for people to put a few gifts on.”
“Good thinking.”
As we head back down the hall, a distinct bark comes from behind the closed door of the other bedroom.
Daniel freezes. “What was that?”
“Oh, uh…” The dog barks again, a small, questioning sound. Something fiercely maternal rises up in me, and I absolutely have to check on him before we go back outside. “It’s Gramps’s present.”
“You got him a dog?” Daniel sounds dumbfounded.
“Um. Yeah. It’s a whole thing. We discussed it first. Kind of.” I lean the stepladder against the wall, then skirt around Daniel to the closed door. “I should probably check on him while we’re here.”
Curiously, Daniel pokes his head over my shoulder as I open the door.
“Hey, buddy,” I croon, bending down and holding out one hand so the dog can smell me. I have no idea how to act around dogs. He seems okay, though—his tail wags so hard it makes his whole butt move side to side. “It’s almost time for your big debut. You doing okay in here?”
“He’s a cutie, ain’t he?” Daniel offers the dog a hand, too, and then scratches behind his ears. “What kind of dog is he?”
“I don’t know, but he’s absolutely perfect.
” Finding this dog earlier today felt truly meant to be.
Amanda and I walked through one shelter full of Chihuahuas and pit bull mixes—and don’t get me wrong, they were sweet—but none of them felt like the right dog for Gramps.
And then the second place we tried, Happy Paws, only had three dogs: a Lab mix, a cross between a Chihuahua and a Yorkie, and this fellow.
My heart nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw him, because he’s the spitting image of Waldo.
He’s some kind of terrier mix, with wiry, sandy-colored hair, floppy ears, shiny black eyes, and the friendliest pink tongue I’ve ever seen.
“This one,” I’d said immediately to Amanda.
“He is the cutest!” she’d agreed. “And he does look like the picture.”
I’d taken a picture of Gramps’s photograph to use as a reference.
“Don’t you want to play with them all a bit first?” the volunteer had asked, surprised.
“No. It’s this one. He’s perfect. It is a he, right?”
“Yes. His name is Rex.”
“Waldo,” I whispered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said, and knelt down to introduce myself to Gramps’s new best friend.
The rest of the afternoon had been a blur of acquiring all the necessary dog equipment at the pet store—Amanda had texted me a list before she headed home to prepare for her shift: food, a bed, toys, a collar, and a leash—and then taking him on a chaotic walk around my neighborhood to make sure he went potty before I put him in the back room.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all day, hoping he was okay all alone.
Now, giddy relief flutters through me: He is, in fact, just fine, and it’s almost time for him to meet Gramps.
“You know,” Daniel says, now rubbing the dog’s belly, “some people would say it’s a bit… ill advised to get someone a dog for their birthday.”
“And other people would say it’s ill advised to let a dog lover go his entire adult life without ever having a dog.” I wait to see if he’ll challenge me again, but he just grins.
“I like you, Rosen.” He walks past me and grabs the stepladder on his way down the hall. “Just let him open my socks first, all right? Before your gift ruins him for everyone else’s.”
I whisper goodbye to Rex/Waldo and follow Daniel, trying not to read into what he said. But still, I like you, Rosen replays in my head more times than I care to admit.
Everyone gathers around near the dessert table as Gramps opens his presents.
It’s dark now, stars just starting to peek through dusky clouds, so I turn on the light in the sunroom so Gramps can see what he’s doing.
He makes appreciative comments as he opens a fitness tracker watch from my parents, a calendar from Trish, a shirt from Angela, some books, pens, and multiple pairs of socks.
I exchange an amused glance with Daniel.
After Gramps opens the last present, a coffee mug with constellations on it, he starts to thank everyone for their generosity. Daniel clears his throat.
“There’s one more thing,” he says. Gramps looks around in surprise.
“I’ll be right back,” I say. Inside, my hands tremble as I hook the dog’s brand-new leash onto his collar.
“Come on,” I whisper. “It’s time!”
We trot out to the backyard, where people instantly start cooing about how cute he is. Gramps, however, just looks stunned.
“Gramps,” I say, “I would like you to meet your birthday present. He’s a very good boy.”
Gramps stares, mouth open, for such a long moment that my heart begins to sink. He doesn’t want a dog. This was a horrible idea. Poor Rex. Now he’ll be stuck with me, because there’s no way I’m bringing him back to—
But then Gramps falls to his knees and hugs the dog to him. “Waldo!”
His stunned look has morphed into one of boyish delight as he rubs his face into the dog’s wiry fur. My heart seizes when I realize that Gramps’s eyes have filled with tears.
Tears spring to my eyes too as I kneel down beside them. “I thought he looked like him, too! His name is Rex.”
“No.” Gramps shakes his head, beaming and rubbing the dog’s jowls. “I will call him Waldo Two.”
I laugh. “You can’t call him that, can you?”
“Wally, for short.”
“Okay. That’s better.”
My cousins and a few of Gramps’s friends rush forward to meet Wally. Angela shrilly asks, “Who’s a good boy?” over and over, scratching Wally’s hindquarters. I step back to make room.
“Well done,” Daniel says in my ear.
I turn to smile at him—and then I notice my mother charging forward, Trish trailing behind her. Their expressions are incongruous compared with the heart-eyed crowd around the dog. It takes me a second to realize that they look… mad.
“Mallory, can we talk to you for a minute?” Trish says, just as my mother hisses, “What on earth were you thinking?”
I glance at Daniel, who looks mildly alarmed. He shrinks back into the shadows. I don’t blame him.
“Umm… what?” I ask my mom.
“He can’t have a dog!” She gestures wildly to her dad. The way she says it is as though he’s an invalid, or perhaps someone who has completely lost touch with reality.
“What are you talking about? Why not?”
“How is he going to care for him?”
“Well, I imagine by giving him food, water, walks, love…”
“Walks! The man can’t even take himself on a walk.”
“He can, he just doesn’t like to,” I say defensively.
“And you thought giving him a dog would magically fix that?”
“Yes?”
Trish elbows her sister aside and tries for a more understanding tone. “It was really thoughtful. He’s a precious little thing. But I’m worried that most of the care will fall on—well, on Ellie. After Ron and I move and you’ve gone back to Seattle.”
I glance at Gramps. He is still on his knees hugging Wally while Ellie feeds the dog treats that she procured from somewhere. The little-boy-like look of wonder on Gramps’s face is worth this whole argument.
“I’ll make sure he has a good handle on it before I leave,” I say.
“How long do you have?” Trish asks with a little laugh. “That could take forever.”
I exchange a look with Daniel, who’s sitting on a nearby bench, sipping from a fresh can of LaCroix and pretending not to eavesdrop. Right now, Daniel is the only person who knows I have to return to the office—in Seattle—in two weeks.
He points to his chest and mouths, I can help .
I tilt my head with a grateful, sad smile.
I can’t exactly tell Mom and Trish that everything will be okay because my property manager can help walk Gramps’s dog.
The two of them are arguing with each other now—weirdly, since they’re on the same side of the argument, but they’ve been known to fight over less.
The right way to cut tomatoes, for instance.
Or how old they each were when they learned how to tie their shoes.
That particular argument ended with a broken water glass and Mom crying in a locked bathroom.
As I listen to them discussing Gramps’s inability to take a ten-minute walk, how he could possibly get the dog to the vet in an emergency, how he’ll know what to feed him, something red-hot wells up inside me.
I’m the one who’s been living with Gramps.
I’m the one who’s seen the hole in his life where Lottie used to be.
I’m the one who saw his eyes shine when he talked about his childhood dog.
And I’m the one who has to leave him alone.
The one who can’t bear to leave him alone.
“Stop, both of you.” I don’t yell the words, but I’ve never spoken to them like that in my life, so they both freeze with identical faces of surprise. “Gramps needs this. He needs Wally. He needs a friend.”
Mom rolls her eyes and says, “He has human friends,” just as Trish says, “So get him a goldfish.”
“He needs a dog.” I am yelling now, and multiple people stop talking and look at me.
“He needs this dog. Lottie never let him have one, and he’s wanted one his whole life.
Did you know his dad gave away his childhood dog for chewing on a shoe?
” Mom and Trish exchange sad looks at this—they must have heard the story before.
I lower my voice so Gramps doesn’t hear the next part.
“I have been living with him for almost a month now, and nothing—nothing—has made him look this happy the entire time I’ve been here.
You saw his face when he saw Wally. You see his face right now.
Just let him be happy. We’ll figure out the logistics. ”
We all look over at them. Gramps is now standing, holding up a treat and politely asking Wally to sit. When he does sit, a cheer goes up through the crowd and Gramps bends down to kiss Wally’s head.
“What a clever boy you are!”
Mom and Trish look at each other, knowing they’re beat.
They don’t apologize to me, and I don’t expect them to.
Mom goes over to greet the dog, and Trish says, “I’ll give you the name of the vet we take our dogs to.
Local. Great gal. You’ll want to make an appointment, just an initial checkup, since he’s been in a shelter. ”
“Thanks, Trish.”
“Yeah.” She heads toward the bar cart and then turns back to me. “You’re a good kid, Mal.”
“I know.”