23. Georgie #2
“Well, she and Bennie… I had to separate them?” She tries to deflect but my heart lurches.
“Oh, God… Were they fighting?”
“No… Not exactly.”
“Franny,” I give her a warning tone.
She sighs, “Let's just say our kids are getting more action than we are.”
“Oh? Oh.”
“Yeah. I don’t know… I don’t know how far it—how far they went—oh god this is horrible. It’s worse than talking about my sex life which is non-existent. Are they fixed?”
“I… don’t know, they might not be. I didn’t think to ask.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Franny says.
“But you said Birdie was a little broken? What do you mean?”
‘Well, after he pulled it—nope. Can’t even think like that. After I separated them from their little romp, she realized you were not in fact here… She’s been like this ever since.” Franny flips to her back camera to show me the reason for my heart breaking.
“Oh, my poor baby,”
Birdie sits at Franny’s door, patiently waiting for me. Her ears perk up at every sound she hears in the hall, and then she’ll glance back to where Franny is sitting on her couch before turning back to the door.
“Georgie, go get that baby and bring her here.” I nearly scream, startled by the voice behind me. I turn, Abi stands there with a basket of undyed yarn in her hands, looking at my phone screen.
“What? I can’t bring her here it’s work—”
“Last time I checked I owned the place. I say she’s coming to work. Seriously, go get her.”
“But my break is over—”
“Georgie,” She raises her carefully crafted eyebrow at me, and I know I have no chance of arguing this.
I turn back to the screen, “Franny, I’ll be there soon.”
The walk back to work for the second time today is jovial and happy as Birdie trots beside me.
Tongue lolling, eyes full of light and excitement.
Her daisies have shifted a little, but at the front door of Get Crafty Co.
I kneel to her and adjust the crown of flowers for her while I give her a pep talk.
“You’re going to do great. They will love you. Ready to go to work, sweet girl?”
She gives me a soft yip. I ruffle her ears and right her headband again. I open the door as I say, “Go find Noah.”
She takes off like a bullet, I let her leash fly out of my hand as she races over to the cash, gives a sniff, then turns to the back space where the yarn shelves are. Noah looks up just in time to be assaulted with kisses of excitement and appreciation.
“Baby Bird!? What are you doing here—” His eyes flash from Birdie to me, the grin never leaving my face as he connects the dots. “It’s you! You’re the one fostering her?”
I cross my arms, “How could I not? She’s perfect.”
“That she is. Oh, we’re going to have the best kind of fun. But what are you doing here during work?” he asks her softly.
“That would be my doing,” Abi snaps our attention to her, specifically to what she carries in her hands. “I knew I kept this for a reason.
Come here, sweet girl. Aunty Abi’s got a present for you,”
The present in question is a grey crocheted dog bed that I watched Abi create over a year ago.
The front window of the store has always been Abi’s happy place, displaying items she creates and sells on commission, and along with other local artists who drop items off for commission-based sales as well.
She loves to create the unimaginable, proving it’s a possibility.
People find it hard to believe a bed for a full-sized dog can be crafted by a simple strand of yarn and a hook.
But it is, and she can. She takes pride in her work, not a dropped stitch, as she sets it on the floor and fluffs the sides.
The woven acrylic yarn is dense in her tension, the half double crochet stitch in the round looks lovely in contrast to the basket weave stitches on the sides.
It’s just big enough for Birdie, who walks over to investigate the new item with hesitation and slight excitement.
She circles, circles, circles the round base, sturdy with a couch cushion style foam inside.
Once happy, she plops down and looks up at us, proud of herself for figuring it out and feeling comfy doing it.
“Georgie, feel free to move the bed to the front desk and let her free roam. And bring her in whenever you work, she’s much happier here than alone at home.”
I want to tell her she wasn’t alone, but Abi is Abi, and her word is law around here and I don’t have the heart to argue. All I know is Noah is pink-cheeked and beaming at me, and I think he’s going to kiss me-
“Come over tonight.” He says out of the blue, surprising me as he takes my hands and holds out hope that I will say yes. Eyes wide with child-like wonder, trying to play it off as cute. I hate that it’s working too well.
I laugh, “I can’t, she’s just getting adjusted, and you said it yourself, no pets allowed in your building.”
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t snuck pets in before,” He shrugs, “When we run out of foster places, I do what I have to do to ensure every dog is taken care of. Of course, it’s usually the little ones coming home with me. I can hide them in a backpack-”
“I don't think she’ll fit in a backpack.” I say with a snort.
He grins at my blush, “She definitely wouldn’t. So, if you can’t come to mine…”
“Noah, would you like to come over tonight?” I ask innocently.
“Absolutely. I thought you’d never ask.” He teases, “Should we plan to order in, or would you like me to cook something?”
“I didn’t think you liked to cook.” I remind him.
“I’m learning new things everyday about myself. Apparently, I enjoy cooking more than I once thought I did. Who knew?” He shrugs, and his smile never leaves his face.
Who knew, indeed.