Chapter 6 Gracie
Snow had fallen overnight, so Gracie was grateful her bakery van had all-wheel drive as she pulled out from Snowberry Lodge to take Benny to his second day of camp.
Benny was busy trying to hold Sir Isaac Newton, who thought the vehicle was his personal playground. From the console, the scent of coffee from her travel mug tempted her, mixing with the lingering sweetness from the cake she’d delivered yesterday.
“Sit, Sir Isaac Newton. Sit.” Benny pushed at the dog’s backside, but ol’ Newt just tried to climb into the front, stopped by the short leash attached to the seatbelt buckle. “Come on, doggo! You have to start listening to my commands.”
“He will do better at camp when you have treats for him.”
“Too many treats aren’t good for his liver,” he told her with a voice of authority she rarely questioned. “I need a better way to make him listen. I did all the research last night—thank you for letting me use Grandpa’s phone, by the way.”
“Just follow the rules. Research only on approved sites.” She’d lost the battle to keep technology out of her little boy’s hands. Now, it was supervised on Red’s phone.
“I’m going to make him a whistle at forty thousand hertz,” Benny continued. “I can do it, too, with some plastic tubing and a bottle cap. Grandpa said he’ll help me.”
She looked up into the rearview mirror, not sure she could follow that. “Forty thousand…what?”
“Dog whistles work because they produce ultrasonic frequencies that we can’t hear, but dogs can. That’s going to be my secret weapon at the contest.”
“Secret…are you sure that’s allowed?”
He laughed. “Nobody can hear but the dogs. And Sir Isaac Newton’s whistle will be special because smaller dogs are more sensitive to slightly higher frequencies. I’ve got it all figured out, Mom.”
She had no doubt he did. “Is that what you and Grandpa were working on last night? I heard a lot of laughter and maybe somebody jumping up and down. Please tell me that was you. Or the dog. Not my grandfather.”
He snorted a laugh. “Grandpa slept mostly, which is what he always does.”
“He’s eighty-two, honey.”
“Well, he’s my best friend, so I wish he’d stay awake.”
Her heart twisted. Yes, Red Starling was a fantastic great-grandfather to her son, but he should not be Benny’s only friend.
Despite asking him about friends at camp several times last night, Benny only talked about the dogs, the contest, and how awesome Sir Isaac Newton was. And how annoying Olivia Hampton was.
On a sigh, she adjusted the vent, fingers tightening around the wheel as she navigated the winding road that led toward Canine Canyon. The sky was pale gray, low clouds hanging like a lid over the mountains, which would be great for skiing, but not so much for driving back here this afternoon.
Her eyes flicked to the passenger seat. A small pink box with the Sugarfall logo sticker on top, closed over two delicious cream puffs she’d made before leaving work last night.
The question was, did she have the nerve to present them to tall, good-looking Marshall Hampton and maybe…suggest they get a coffee sometime?
She let out a soft grunt of nerves. Gracie was only confident when she was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in dough, or applying the delicate frosting artwork to a canvas of cake or pastry.
Asking a man out? Oh, that was so not in her wheelhouse.
Nicole was right. If Gracie didn’t step out of her comfort zone and “make a friend,” then how did she expect her son to do the same?
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Today’s the day.”
She peeked in the rearview mirror. Benny stroked Sir Isaac Newton’s fur, carefully adjusting a bandana made from fabric that glowed with neon rockets and cartoon planets—courtesy of MJ.
The pup gazed up at him with unshakable adoration—blissfully unaware that Benny wanted to train him with…frequencies.
“I just don’t know about the trick,” Benny mused, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as they did when he was in deep thought.
“I thought you were going to do something space-related,” she said. “Have him circle you and call it ‘orbiting’ or something?”
He gave a wry snort that made him sound five times his age. “I was, but that Olivia girl is doing something space-related. She’s doing one called ‘blast off,’ where her dog jumps after she says, ‘Three, two, one.’” He made a face. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Maybe you could work with her and come up with another idea.”
He gave her an “are you kidding?” look. “Not a chance. She thinks she’s all that and a bag of…kibble.”
She bit back a laugh because he sounded so much like Red.
“She thinks she has some kind of special claim on space because of some movie. Like, she’s going to hate this…” He flicked at the rocket-covered bandana. “It’ll just make her mad.”
Whoa. Was that the smart-kid equivalent of pulling her pigtails? Well, in Olivia’s case, gorgeous professional braids.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mom,” he said suddenly. “Miss Renee said they need someone to deliver the treats to the dogs. I was thinking Grandpa could come as Santa. He said he would but…” He started laughing to himself, like he was remembering an inside joke.
“But what?”
“Only if my trick is to hold Sir Isaac Newton over a soft cushion, drop him carefully, and say, ‘There—he proved gravity.’” His shoulders moved as he cracked up, and Gracie did, too.
“That sounds like my grandfather.” Then she snapped her fingers as a thought occurred to her. “But maybe he’s on to something, Ben.”
“What? I’m not going to drop my dog, Mom.”
“No, but aren’t there three famous Newtonian laws?”
He thought about it for exactly, well, a nanosecond. “Of course. Inertia. Force and acceleration. Action and reaction. Remember, I wrote my science report on them.”
“Well, show those laws. You could—”
“Mom!” He clapped his hands once, his eyes flashing. “That’s it! I could have him stay still for law one, go down that little play slide for law two, and stop a moving ball for law three.”
Gracie felt her jaw drop, endlessly amazed by this delightful and brilliant little boy. “Yes, yes, and yes!”
“You’re a genius, Mom!”
She just shook her head, knowing who the real genius in the family was.
He picked up the Cavapoo and they touched noses. “We’re going to win, Sir Isaac Newton! We’ll show that dumb dog named Kat.”
“Benny.” She purposely put a warning note in her voice. “Be nice. And don’t say her dog is dumb.”
“She’s not, and that’s the problem,” he muttered. “The dog is so smart it’s scary.”
Before she could pursue that, her phone rang from her purse and the dashboard lit up with the caller’s name: Sam Sutton.
It’s about time, she thought glumly at the sight of Benny’s father’s name. Christmas was two days ago.
“It’s Dad!” he said, leaning forward. “Aren’t you going to answer? I want to tell him about Sir Isaac Newton!”
The dog Sam didn’t know about because he didn’t call on Christmas Day like a normal, reliable, decent father would.
Gracie swallowed hard and hit the speaker button. “Hey, Sam.”
“Hi, Grace,” Sam’s voice came through, smooth and cheerful, like honey on glass. He never called her Gracie like every other person on the face of the earth. Always just “Grace,” and she didn’t know why, but it irked.
“Hey, Dad! Guess what?”
“And my man, Benny-boy! How’s my champ?”
Benny practically unbuckled himself, leaning toward the dash as though he could crawl through the screen. “I got a puppy, Dad! Just like I told you I would.”
“You did? That’s awesome, bud.”
“I had the best idea and turned Grandpa into ‘Grumpy Santa’ on TikTok and it went viral and we were able to fill the whole lodge for December and Aunt Cindy said if I did that, I’d get a puppy, which I did, but she didn’t know it was me because I’m not allowed to use the phone yet but—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up there, big boy. Slow down and tell me like I’m five, because I’m confused by your brilliance.”
Benny laughed, but Gracie just sighed. He was so excited to share his life with his distant dad, and all he got was the occasional call. Like this one, two days after Christmas.
Yes, Sam had his own family—a wife and three-year-old son in Las Vegas. Five years ago, he married a girl named Coco, of all the grating names, and then she had a baby and the calls grew so infrequent, sometimes Gracie forgot the man existed.
Maybe Benny did, too. He didn’t say.
“Anyway, Dad, it’s a long story,” Benny said, “and we’re pulling into the puppy training camp. I can’t be late because I want my dog to lead the line to playtime. He’s a natural leader, you should see. Of course, that other dog tries to muscle in.”
“Aw, I wish you had more time to tell me about the dog,” Sam said. “Really sorry I didn’t call on Christmas. We were in Reno with Coco’s parents—”
“The dog’s name is Sir Isaac Newton,” Gracie interrupted, her voice brisk and steel-edged. She wasn’t about to let her son sit through a story about Sam’s shiny new family and their lovely Christmas.
Sam let out a hearty laugh. “Of course it is. What kind of dog, kiddo?”
“Cavapoo,” Benny said proudly. “That’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mixed with a poodle, which makes him really smart.”
“As smart as you, big guy?”
The slathering of meaningless nicknames made Gracie flinch and clench the wheel tighter as she looked for a parking spot. Big guy, kiddo, buddy. It all felt so forced and fake, like Sam himself.
“And Mom just had the best idea for his trick! He’s going to demonstrate Newton’s three laws. Isn’t that amazing?”
“She is…amazing.”
Her eyes shuttered and she kept her lips sealed. Not “amazing” enough for Sam. Not amazing enough to marry and help raise a child.
“There’s a contest, Dad,” Benny prattled on. “Like a talent show at the end of camp. And if we win, which we will, I’ll get a big trophy! It’s on stage and there will be an audience, too.”
“Cool,” Sam said, almost sounding like he meant it. “I’d love to see it.”
“You should come!” Benny exclaimed, making Gracie’s stomach drop to the floorboards of the van.