Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (91 page)

“The puppies were born a few days after I brought her home. She had a litter of five. Unfortunately, she didn't make it. She was a lovely, sweet-tempered dog and it breaks my heart to have lost her.”

“Five puppies?” The fact that the lost dog had been a golden retriever instantly brought back memories of Grace's beloved Buttercup. Buttercup had been almost twelve when she'd died quietly in her sleep that summer. Grace still couldn't think about her dog without feeling a pang of grief. The golden retriever had loved her life on the ranch and had never seemed happier than when she and Grace took long walks through the property and along the shore. It didn't seem right that Buttercup was gone. Even now when she got home from work, she expected the dog to greet her.

“So if you would, I'd be forever grateful,” Beth was saying.

Grace blinked. Caught up in her memories, she'd entirely missed most of Beth's comments.

“If I would do what?” Grace asked.

“Look after one of the puppies for me,” Beth said, giving her an odd glance.

“Me? But…how?”

“He needs to be fed every couple of hours. I have a special bottle I'll give you. In addition to the feeding, he'll need lots of attention. This poor baby has lost his mother and he's been separated from his brother and sisters. He's lonely and afraid.”

“Beth, I couldn't possibly take on the care of a puppy.” It was out of the question. “I have to be at work here in the library. I haven't got the time, and Cliff's constantly
busy with the horses….” Her voice drifted off. She didn't add that she was still in mourning for her own dog and couldn't take on another one right now. It was just too hard.

“I can't do it by myself anymore,” Beth said. “Not with all the work on the tree farm. We're gearing up for the holidays. We're already getting orders and some trees are being shipped as far away as Hawaii and Japan. I'm overseeing all that, plus I've got the training and the library program, and I can't stop to feed two puppies.” She paused. “I can barely handle one.”

“I'm sorry….”

Beth ignored her protest. “Suzette has one puppy and Kristen Jamey took another. A third went to a woman at church, and I have one myself, so that only leaves this last little guy. Unfortunately he's the runt of the litter, smaller and more at risk than the others.”

“I'm sure you'll find someone…else,” Grace said.

Suzette Lambert was an associate librarian, and Grace figured the library was well represented in the puppy-care department.

“I wouldn't bother you if there was anyone else I could ask, and trust me, I've tried. I have nowhere else to turn. It's just for a few weeks,” she said, her voice increasingly desperate. “I really need your help, Grace.”

Grace started to raise her objections again when Beth bent down to open the basket and lifted out a small puppy. He was so tiny he didn't even look like a golden retriever. His eyes were squeezed shut against the light and he squirmed a little in Beth's grasp.

“Can you tell the breed of the father?” Grace asked as a delaying tactic.

“My guess is that he was probably a mix. Some Lab,
some hound and maybe a bit of poodle. It's too early to really tell.”

An odd combination, although the puppy was golden like his mother…like Buttercup.

“But I have a lot of responsibilities at the library,” Grace said, hoping Beth would accept the excuse.

“Bring him with you. I'm sure he'll be a hit with the children and they'll enjoy seeing him grow week by week.”

“Just how long will I—will he need this extra care?”

“A month, six weeks at the most.”

“Then you'll be able to adopt him out?”

Beth nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Four to six weeks,” Grace murmured. She didn't want to do this but didn't feel she could refuse, since Beth had done so much for her and the children. Grace didn't like it, not one bit, but felt she had no other choice.

“Will you do it?” Beth asked again.

Grace sighed loudly. “I guess I have to.”

“You won't be sorry,” Beth promised. “He really is a sweet little dog.”

Beth left as soon as she'd gone through the feeding instructions and other pertinent information. The puppy slept in the basket on the corner of her desk and didn't make a sound the whole time Grace worked on her budget review.

When she'd finished an hour later, she called Cliff at the ranch. There was no answer and she didn't leave a message. Then she stood, retrieving her purse and jacket. “I'll take you home,” she informed the puppy, “but don't get too comfortable because you're not staying, understand?”

The puppy slept peacefully on, apparently not distressed by her lack of welcome.

The basket rested on the passenger-side floor during the fifteen-minute drive home. The only sound Grace heard was a weak mewling as she turned into the driveway leading to the house. “Don't worry, you'll get your dinner soon,” she said in a grudging voice.

When she pulled into the garage, Cliff left the barn to greet her, as he usually did. Grace climbed out of the car and he kissed her.

“I brought company,” she muttered.

“Company?” Cliff looked behind him.

“A puppy,” she said. “Beth asked me—no,
begged
me—to take care of him for the next six weeks.”

“And you agreed?” He seemed surprised, as well he should be, since Grace had made it clear that she was through with pets.

“I'm not happy about it,” she admitted. Walking around to the other side of her car, she removed the basket and handed it to Cliff.

Her husband raised the lid and peered inside. “Oh, he is a tiny thing.”

“The runt of the litter.” Grace managed to make that sound like an insult.

“Well, we'll just have to fatten him up.” Cliff murmured endearments as he took the puppy from the basket and held him against his chest.

“He has to be fed every couple of hours,” she told him. “Like either of us has time for that.”

Cliff grinned, which irritated Grace even more. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Cliff Harding. I know what you're thinking and you can stop right this minute.”

“So you're reading my thoughts now?” Returning the puppy to his basket, he slipped his free arm around her waist as he steered her toward the house.

“You think I'm going to fall for this puppy and we'll
want to keep him ourselves. That's not going to happen, so you can put it out of your mind.”

“Okay, I will,” he said blandly.

He was being far too agreeable, and Grace didn't believe a word of it.

He opened the door to the mudroom off the kitchen and motioned her in ahead of him. The soft mewling continued from inside the basket. Cliff put it down to shuck off his boots.

“Bring the basket into the kitchen where it's warm,” he said. “This little guy's hungry.”

“Why don't you give him the bottle while I get dinner started,” Grace suggested. The less she had to do with the puppy, the better.

“I'll be glad to.”

Grace was grateful. She wouldn't allow herself to feel any tenderness for this small animal. She couldn't. Losing Buttercup had broken her heart and she refused to be vulnerable to a pet again. Refused to set herself up for the inevitable grief. As Olivia had pointed out, that was the downside of having pets—their lives were too short. Besides, an additional animal would tie her and Cliff down all the more. As it was, they had the horses. Getting away for even a weekend was difficult and required a lot of advance planning.

Sitting at the kitchen table, her husband cradled the puppy on his lap and gently offered him the tiny bottle of formula. Grace tried not to watch as she peeled potatoes, then bustled about the room, taking the salad fixings out of the refrigerator, washing lettuce, slicing tomatoes and cucumber. She'd put Swiss steak in the Crock-Pot before she'd left for work that morning. All she had to do now was boil the potatoes and finish preparing the salad.

“He needs a name,” Cliff said after a few minutes.

“Give him one if you like,” she said without any real interest.

“What about Rover after the library reading program?” he asked.

“Sure.” A name was just a name and six weeks from now Rover or whatever Cliff chose to call him would be out of her life.

“Nah, Rover doesn't really fit him. Too generic. We need to come up with something else,” Cliff said.

“I don't see anything wrong with just calling him Puppy. Or Dog. In six weeks—four weeks if we're lucky—he'll be adopted by a new family and they can name him.”

“He needs a name now,” Cliff insisted.

“Fine, then you name him.”

Although he didn't comment, Cliff's eyebrows shot up.

“What?” she muttered. “I am not going to let that puppy worm his way into my heart. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Do you want a glass of wine with dinner?” she asked, wanting to change the subject before the puppy became an object of contention between them.

“If you do.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

“Okay.” She went from the kitchen to the walk-in pantry, where they kept several bottles of wine, and chose a Shiraz. She returned with the wine, used a corkscrew to open it and let it breathe.

“What do you think of Beauregard?” Cliff asked.

“Beauregard who?”

“As a name,” he said pointedly.

“Oh, for the puppy. It's fine but a little long, wouldn't you say?” She caught herself, adding, “Not that I care.”

“We'd call him Beau for short.”

“We?” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You name him whatever your heart desires but I want nothing to do with it.”

Cliff nodded. “Then Beau, it is.” He ran his index finger down the puppy's golden back as Beau sucked greedily at the tiny nipple. The bottle looked like something that came with a child's doll.

“Make sure he doesn't do his business in the house,” she warned.

“No problem. I'll wait fifteen minutes and take him outside.”

Beau was already proving to be a nuisance. “He'll probably interrupt our meal,” she complained. “And you know darned well that he'll be awake at all hours of the night. How many years has it been since you've had to deal with a puppy?”

Cliff smiled down at Beau, completely entranced. Her husband was an easy victim to the puppy, but not Grace. She fully intended to keep her distance, emotionally if not physically.

Cliff took Beau outside and returned just as she was mashing the potatoes. He looked in her direction and shook his head.

“No success?” she asked.

“None.”

“He's not too bright, is he?”

“Grace,” her husband chastised. “He hasn't had a chance to learn what it means to go outside.”

She knew that, but was unwilling to admit how critical she was being. She could see how attached Cliff was getting, and the puppy hadn't even been with them an hour.

“Listen, Cliff, we will
not
be keeping this animal, understand?”

He glanced up from where he lay sprawled on the floor, playing with the puppy, and grinned. “Whatever you say.”

“I'm not joking, Cliff. I don't want another dog.”

“Whatever you want.”

Grace narrowed her eyes as she set their dinner on the kitchen table. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Cliff,” she groaned, “this is no joking matter. You wait and see, he'll interfere with dinner. It's already begun.”

Sure enough, in the middle of dinner, the timer went off.

“What's that for?” she asked, startled.

“Beau. I'm giving him a second chance.” Taking his wineglass, Cliff headed outside with the puppy, who'd been curled up on an old towel near the stove.

Grace reached for her own glass and raised it to her lips.

“It's only for six weeks,” Cliff reminded her as he opened the door off the kitchen.

Grace had a feeling that these would be the longest six weeks of her life.

Thirteen

H
urrying out of the courthouse, Olivia frowned as she looked at her watch. She'd told her brother she'd meet him at the gallery at four, but a custody hearing had run late. Will had already left one message on her cell phone, although she hadn't taken the time to listen to it.

Thankfully the courthouse was just a few short blocks from the Harbor Street Gallery. It was a crisp October day, so Olivia decided to walk. The trek was downhill, which was something else to be grateful for. And she loved the beauty of the brilliant autumn leaves, which were falling fast and would all be gone in another week.

Olivia walked steadily but she was out of practice and out of breath. She'd be seeing Grace later for their weekly Wednesday-night aerobics class. She was slowly regaining her strength; maybe she'd even catch up to Grace in skill and endurance soon.

Thinking about her friend, Olivia couldn't contain a smile. Grace and Cliff were caring for that puppy of Beth's. Beau had instantly won over Cliff. Not so Grace, who stubbornly refused to grow attached to him. Olivia wondered just how long Grace would be able to hold out. Her friend had loved Buttercup and she'd love Beau, too,
if she'd give him a chance. Still, Grace insisted that in less than six weeks, she'd hand Beau over to Beth Morehouse without a second's hesitation. No matter what, she kept saying, that dog was going back. If Olivia was a betting woman, she'd place her whole retirement income on Grace keeping that puppy.

She arrived at the gallery and entered, accompanied by a blast of wind off the cove. The door banged behind her, rattling the windows.

Will laughed. “That was quite an entrance,” he teased as he came toward her. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek.