Chapter 38
EMILY
Imake my way down to the lobby with Biscotti in my arms. I delight in the puppy’s soft, warm fur.
It’s ridiculous that I take comfort from a tiny dog, when I’m supposed to be his human caretaker.
“Ernesto, hello,” I say, as I bend to attach Biscotti’s sparkly pink leash.
“I hope you don’t mind walking in the park with me and Biscotti.”
“A pleasure,” he says. “Always nice to get out for a fresh breath of air.”
“Agreed.”
I try to adopt a pleasant tone as I chat with Ernesto about New York as we wait for the light.
Ernesto sort of half-listens to me. He seems focused on scanning the people around us as we cross the street and head toward the park’s crowded entrance.
That’s a good sign, I tell myself. Ernesto’s alert and aware.
Inside the park, Biscotti trots ahead as far as his leash will allow. A few children stop and ask if they can pet him.
Once we pass the area known as the Sheep Meadow, Ernesto turns to me.
“You should let him off his leash, Mrs. Ricci,” he says. “Let the dog feel free.”
As if he can understand English, Biscotti yips as he looks up at me.
It’s as if he’s asking permission to do exactly what Ernesto suggested.
“Absolutely not, cookie-face,” I tell the puppy, scooping him up for a kiss. “Gina would have a fit if you ran off.”
I turn to Ernesto and force a smile. “Be careful what you say out loud. I swear that dog can understand English.”
To my surprise, Ernesto laughs.
“Sorry, Mrs. R. I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve walked Biscotti before, you know. He likes that path over there,” Ernesto says, pointing to an out-of-the-way area.
“Yes? It looks so remote.”
“That’s the point. They call it The Ramble. It’s shady from all the trees. And there’s a little cafe where you both can get a sip of water.”
“Okay. Lead the way.”
“Sure.”
Biscotti charges ahead, straining at his leash. Yet as I follow, I feel an uncomfortable sense of foreboding.
A weird twist in my gut.
I’m probably just still spooked from last night.
“Here’s the café, Mrs. R,” Ernesto says, his eyes already performing a slow, methodical sweep of the treeline and the patio patrons.
“Pull back a chair right here by the window where it’s open and shady.”
Before he even offers to get water, he steps around the perimeter of the small patio, checking the gap between the ivy trellis and the main walkway. Satisfied the area is clear, he turns back to me.
“Want me to go inside and get you something so you and the doggo can relax?” he asks, draping his suit jacket over the chair directly facing mine. “I’ll order from the counter right through that open glass window so I’ve got eyes on you the whole time.”
“Water would be great,” I say, looping Biscotti’s pink leash twice around the heavy wrought-iron table leg and giving it a hard, testing tug. “For both of us.”
“Good,” Ernesto nods approvingly, checking the knot himself. “Stay put. I won’t take my eyes off the table.”
Biscotti flops down in the shade beneath me, chin on his paws, while Ernesto steps through the open café door to the counter ten feet away.
Through the wide glass window, I can see him standing at the register, his broad shoulders angled so he never turns his back on my table.
I pull out my phone, snorting with laughter as I read Anna’s meme about a Darcy-like character that reminds me of Lorenzo. We exchange a few quick texts, and for twenty seconds, maybe longer, my focus drifts.
Then, remembering I’m babysitting my new sister-in-law’s dog, I look down.
But Biscotti is gone.
And the leash that must have trailed behind him leaves an uneven line down the dirt path toward the trees.
“Biscotti!” I call.
But there’s no response.
I can’t imagine how such a small dog can yank a heavy leash free, but he did.
The same cold feeling I’d experienced at the restaurant twisted through my stomach.
Just then, Ernesto comes out of the café with the water.
“Ernesto!” I rush toward him. “Biscotti got away! Please help me find him.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. R. He can’t have gotten far. Let’s go in opposite directions. We’ll find him.”
I take the nearby path, knowing how much Biscotti likes attention from human beings. But after five minutes, no sign of him.
I must find him or Gina will be hysterical. And who knows what effect that could have on her unborn baby?