Chapter 3 Gracie
The morning after Christmas, the snow had finally stopped, leaving Park City skiers happy and tourists able to enjoy a blindingly sunny day in town.
Snow stacked on fence rails and pine boughs, the sky glistened like a blue dome, and all the roads along the outskirts had been plowed into neat corridors as Gracie drove to Canine Canyon Refuge.
She eased her van into the turn lane, the heater purring high enough to fog the edges of the windshield. In the rearview mirror she caught Benny’s profile—serious as a scientist—his knit hat pulled low over shaggy brown hair, his gloved hand absently stroking the silky ears of Sir Isaac Newton.
The puppy wore a tiny harness clipped to the seatbelt so he couldn’t lunge face-first into the front seat, which they’d learned the hard way he liked to do.
He was six months of Cavapoo exuberance, equal parts curl and curiosity, and a whole lot of love. Gracie didn’t think Benny had let go of the dog in twenty-four hours except to bathe, eat, and sleep.
“You excited?” she asked. “Paws & Pals, Day One.”
“Excited about the curriculum,” he said without looking up, the use of a word like “curriculum” not even fazing Gracie. She knew when Benny was about six months old that he was smart. The word “genius” started getting used at two.
Now, at ten, she was long used to his high IQ and slightly quirky personality.
She didn’t know where he got the brains—Sam Sutton hadn’t exactly been a Mensa candidate, unless making and breaking promises gave a person more IQ points. Didn’t matter. She was happy her boy had that advantage in life.
Except when it worked against him.
Right now, he was reading the schedule she’d printed and folded into thirds, his finger moving line by line as if he could memorize the whole week before they hit the parking lot.
“Name recognition, sit, down, leash manners. Vet talk on Day Three. Agility play. Please.” He rolled his eyes with the skill of a teenaged girl. “We will conquer that the first morning.”
“No need to overachieve, Ben.”
“Wait. Socialization blocks.” He hesitated there, the word landing heavy and awkward in the warm car. “Socialization? With dogs or kids?”
“Dogs need friends, too.” She glanced in the mirror again. “Just like you. I bet you meet nice kids here.”
“I’m focused on Sir Isaac Newton today,” Benny said, in that practical, matter-of-fact tone he used when he wanted to get his way.
“We should clarify the list of commands we want to be consistent with at home. I read that ‘sit’ versus ‘sit down’ can be confusing. Also, we need to pick a release word. ‘Okay’ is too common. The trainer in the video says ‘free.’ I like ‘release.’ It sounds official.”
“It certainly does,” she agreed, turning past a woodcut sign at the entrance of Canine Canyon Refuge.
She’d been here just before Christmas with her mother to pick up Sir Isaac Newton, and dear MJ had been so enamored with the doggies that Snowberry Lodge almost got one to entertain the guests.
The refuge was a multi-building campus tucked on the edge of town, a sweet place that cared for dogs and cats, despite the name. Also some insanely adorable goats.
She pulled into the lot and found a spot near the main building, eyeing the blue clapboard structure. A banner hung over the front door with bold lettering that said, “Welcome to Paws & Pals Winter Training Camp!”
To the right, a low barn hugged a paddock where a few goats nosed the snow curiously. Farther back, a small outbuilding held a cat “porch” with carpeted shelves pressed against a window. The whole place felt well-loved, painted in cheerful colors that made the day glow warmer.
“Mom,” Benny said, voice soft in the back seat. “He’s quivering.”
“Puppy shivers,” she answered, unbuckling. “It’s excitement. And a little cold.” She met Benny’s eyes. “I get it.”
He nodded, then bent to press his nose to Sir Isaac Newton’s head. “You’re going to be excellent,” he whispered to the dog. “Top of your class. Valedictorian.”
Gracie’s heart gave a small leap. How many times could you fall in love with your own child? Apparently, many. She climbed out, had a little shiver herself, then slid open the back door for Benny and…Sir Isaac Newton.
Did she really have to call him by a five-syllable name? Yes, according to his master. She hoped the other kids at camp would follow Benny’s rules. If they didn’t, she hoped he could like them anyway.
After all, this little sojourn had a bigger purpose than training the dog how to do what doggies did. As she and Nicole had discussed yesterday, this was part of Gracie’s relentless campaign for Benny to make friends.
Benny unbuckled Sir Isaac Newton with careful fingers and anchored the leash, then slid out, putting the dog on the ground and laughing when he scampered on the snow.
On the walk toward the main building, Gracie held Benny’s hand, and he held the leash to tug a not-so-sure Newt—don’t tell Benny—toward training camp.
“Come on, boy,” he urged gently. “We’re going to camp together!”
He sounded so excited, her heart felt like it was folding in half. Benny needed a friend so badly and not just one with four legs.
He only had Red, his octogenarian great-grandfather. No friends, and no real father figure, she reminded herself for the guilt-ridden zillionth time.
“Hey,” she said, holding the door with her boot while Benny managed the leash. “There will be lots of kids.”
“I know.”
“You can make friends.”
“Don’t need them,” he said without hesitation. “I have Sir Isaac Newton.” He slid her a look from behind his glasses, and then looked away, squaring his tiny shoulders as if to say, “Let me do it my way.”
Yes, she was a famously overprotective mother, but she was alone in this journey and Benny was her whole world. Was that why he didn’t make friends?
No, he simply liked his own company over anyone else’s.
The front lobby of Canine Canyon was clean and bright, with the lingering scent of oatmeal shampoo. A chalkboard on one wall listed Today’s Camp Schedule with hand-drawn paw prints walking between time slots.
A Christmas tree twinkled in the corner—small, with paper ornaments cut in the shapes of dog bones and snowflakes.
At the reception counter, a woman in a red fleece vest looked up from a tablet and smiled.
“Paws & Pals? Welcome!” Her gaze dropped to the dog. “And who is this handsome gentleman?”
“Sir Isaac Newton,” Benny said, adjusting the leash like he’d practiced in the house last night.
“Oooh.” She half laughed and looked at Gracie. “We’ve got royalty in the house.”
Gracie smiled and looked down at Benny, who wasn’t sure how to respond.
“And you are…”
“Benedict McBride,” he said, the use of his full first name touching Gracie in ways she couldn’t explain. “You can call me Benny.”
“Hi, Benny. I’m Renee.” She slid two laminated name tags across the counter—one for a human, one for a dog’s collar—and a clipboard she gave to Gracie to complete. “First day is always a little noisy. Organized chaos. We get to the organized part by the end of the week, I promise.”
The door opened behind them, ushering in a chilly blast of air and a father-daughter duo led by a gorgeous brindle dog with arresting blue eyes.
“Kat! Stop and heel, please.” The little girl, who looked to be about Benny’s age, shot the command with authority.
“Did she say cat?” Benny whispered, fighting a laugh.
The girl fired a look at Benny as she pulled a treat out of her pocket and gave it to her dog with praise.
“It’s Kat with a K,” she said, flipping one of many beautiful braids over her shoulder. “She’s named for Katherine Johnson.”
Benny stood a little straighter. “My dog’s named Sir Isaac Newton, a famous physicist. Who’s Katherine Johnson?”
“Never heard of Katherine Johnson?” Her brows shot up, espresso eyes flashing with disbelief. “Then maybe you need to read a little more.”
Benny’s jaw dropped. “I read a hundred books in the Scholastic Book Challenge last year.”
“But you didn’t read Hidden Figures or Counting the Stars, or you would know that Katherine Johnson was the first Black woman NASA mathematician whose critical calculations helped ensure the success of the Mercury-Atlas 6 orbit around the Earth.”
Whoa. Gracie took a step backward and bumped right into the child’s father, a tall and broad-chested man who sidestepped gracefully.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I just…wasn’t expecting that.”
The man chuckled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his khakis with a sigh that said nothing his daughter did surprised him. “Introduce yourself, Olivia. And Kat.”
She put her hand on the dog’s head. “This is Kat, a border collie, as you can probably tell by how she follows orders. They’re smart. And I’m Olivia Hampton.”
“Who makes the rules,” the man next to Gracie whispered with a sly smile. “And enforces them.”
Gracie laughed softly, taking a look at the stunning little girl who stood with perfect posture and maturity well beyond her nine or ten years.
“I’m Benny McBride,” her son responded, his own back stiffening a little. “This is Sir Isaac Newton, a Cavapoo. He’s part poodle, and they’re smart, too.”
Olivia looked dubious. “Does he have a nickname?”
“No. We use his whole name.”
“My dog has a nickname.”
“Which is also the name of another species,” Benny reminded her.
“Species, yes. But still part of the animal kingdom, chordate phylum, and mammal class,” she fired back, crossing her arms. “Plus, it’s super cute and funny.”
“Oh, my…” Gracie turned to look up at Olivia’s father, biting her lip. “I think my son just met his match.”
“I’ll pray for him,” he said with another soft laugh, his eyes—the same midnight color as his daughter’s—twinkling. “Because he’ll need it.”
“Can your dog sit and stay?” Olivia asked.
Benny blinked. “I just got him yesterday.”
“Well, no treats, then.” She stroked her dog’s head. “Kat learned that in a day.”