“Good morning,” I said brightly. I bent down to scratch Hazel behind the ears. She wiggled with excitement, her tail waggling hard behind her. “You hungry?”

I went into the kitchen with my German shepherd hurrying after me. She stayed right beside me as I filled her water bowl and grabbed the kibble from the pantry. Her entire body vibrated with energy as I poured the kibble in her bowl and laid it down in front of her. She wasted no time, chomping down on the food and lapping up the water with frantic speed.

“Slow down.” I laughed. “You’ll make yourself sick and then what? We’ll have to go to the vet and totally ruin my day off.”

Hazel ignored me and kept eating like she did every other morning of her life. I laughed again and went to sit on the couch. I’d never been one for breakfast. My stomach didn’t work before noon, but I sipped on a bottle of water while I turned on the TV.

It was Sunday, so there wasn’t anything good on, but I enjoyed the noise. I flipped through the channels, stopping every once in a while to listen to a line of dialogue here or a funny commercial there. Nothing held my attention for very long. I liked it that way. I spent so much time focused at the shop that on Sundays, I let myself veg out and just exist.

When Hazel was done with her kibble, she bounded over to the living room and jumped on the couch. She curled up on top of my feet and laid her heavy head on my knees. I scratched her ears absentmindedly while my eyes stayed glued to the TV.

“What do you think?” I asked Hazel a few minutes later. “Dog park later? Or maybe the beach?”

Hazel just kept her head on my knees and stared at me with her big, dark eyes. I laughed and rubbed her head. She turned her head against my palm and licked my fingers gently. It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, but Hazel was so large that her tongue covered my entire hand.

“Thanks for that.” I wiped my hand on my shirt. “I guess you don’t want to go anywhere then?”

Her head popped up. I laughed again and pushed her off me. I got off the couch while Hazel ran to the front door. Her leash hung on a hook beside the door. Hazel looked at it and barked and then turned her whole body to face me.

“Let me shower first,” I said. “Then we can go.”

Hazel whined but followed me into my bedroom all the same. I took a quick shower and threw on some comfortable clothes before Hazel and I set off for the beach.

I lived close enough to walk, but Hazel always got distracted by the other dogs we encountered on the way, so I decided to drive us. Hazel’s head hung out the window the entire way there. She barked at the wind, making me laugh and ensuring I stayed in a great mood.

We spent most of the morning and afternoon on the sand. Hazel splashed in the waves to cool herself down, but I stayed out of the water.

As I watched Hazel play, my mind turned to the day I adopted her. My dad had taken me to the shelter after we’d had a particularly rough day at the shop. He said there was nothing better than a good lick from a sweet dog to cheer you up. He was the one who pointed Hazel out to me. I adopted her that same day.

Hazel ran back to me, spraying me with seawater just as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw my mom’s number flashing across the screen.

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on you,” Mom said. “I was gonna make a roast tonight if you wanted to stop by for dinner.”

“Sure,” I said. “What time? Seven?”

“Six would be better,” Mom said.

“I’ll be there.”

We hung up, and I checked the time. It was already almost four. I sighed and ushered Hazel back to the car. By the time I got her home and bathed, it was time for me to head out.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” I said. I rubbed Hazel’s ears playfully and let her lick my nose. “See you later.”

* * *

“So,” Mom asked when we sat down for dinner. “What’d you do today?”

“I took Hazel to the beach,” I said.

“Oh, you went for a swim?” Mom asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Hazel did, though. She was disgusting by the time I got her home.”

“I remember when you got her.” Mom laughed and took a sip of her iced tea. “Your dad was so excited. All he wanted to do that night was show me pictures. He’d taken about a thousand at the shelter.”

“He picked her out,” I said, smiling to myself. “He told me she was the perfect dog for me to come home to every night.”

“He worried you were lonely,” Mom said.

“How could I possibly have been lonely?” I laughed. “Dad never left me alone long enough.”

My mom smiled, but her eyes fell to the table. When she looked back at me, they were dark with sadness. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. It hadn’t been often that I saw my mother’s brilliant green eyes alive with anything but joy. Ever since my father’s death, they seemed to become three shades darker.

People always said I was my mother’s twin. Long dark hair. Bright green eyes. Petite figures. On the outside, we were exactly the same, but deep down, we couldn’t have been more different.

“How are you doing?” I asked her softly. “Do you need anything?”

“No, honey,” Mom said. “I don’t need anything. I’m doing okay. I’ll be sad for a long time, but it’s getting better. Every day is a little easier.”

“I miss him too,” I said.

“I know you do.” Mom smiled sadly. “You know what I was thinking about the other day?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Those old photo albums up in the attic.” She laughed. “Do you remember when your dad made me pack them up?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He told you they were taking up valuable CD space.”

“And he meant it.” Mom laughed again. “He filled those shelves with piles of CDs, all of them in the wrong cases.”

“Are the albums still in the attic?” I asked. “Do you want me to get them down for you?”

“Sure,” Mom said. “That would be nice.”

I pushed my chair away from the table and made to leave the kitchen.

“I didn’t mean now,” Mom said quickly. “You can finish your dinner first.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” I shrugged. “I’ll be right back.”

Mom’s eyebrows pulled together with concern as I hurried out of the kitchen. It took me barely five minutes to find the box of photo albums and bring them downstairs. It was the least I could for my mom. She was so sad, so heartbroken, and there was nothing I could do to help her. I knew I needed to be strong for her. It was the only thing that mattered anymore.

“Thank you,” she said when I put the box on the kitchen counter.

“Of course.” I smiled and sat back down.

“Your dad and I met at a bookstore, did you know that?” she asked.

“I thought it was a café?” I frowned. “Dad always said you were working at a café to put yourself through school.”

“I was,” she said. “But, that’s not where we met. Your father never remembered it, but we met at Betty’s Books downtown. I went there to buy a book for my literature class, and your dad was there on a date.”

“What?” I laughed.

“Yup.” Mom nodded. “Her name was Trisha or Tina or something like that. She was such a vapid woman, but your dad took her out all the same. When I saw them, she was talking a mile a minute about different books she’d read and your father, well, you know how he felt about books.”

“’Just put it on tape,’” I quoted. “’Then maybe I’ll pay attention to it.’”

“Exactly.” Mom laughed. “So, he was pretending to listen to her. And when I walked by, he was so zoned out that he didn’t see me. He slammed right into me, and I dropped the books I was carrying all over the floor.”

“Awkward,” I said.

“Your dad mumbled some apology and scooped the books up,” she said. “He pushed them into my arms without looking at me and then kept walking behind Trisha or Tina. He barely even noticed me.”

“He never told me that,” I said.

“Like I said, he never remembered.” She shrugged. “He was too busy with Trisha or Tina. Though every time I mentioned it, he would say, ‘I know you’re lying because I wouldn’t possibly have paid attention to any other woman if you were in the room.’”

I grinned as a faraway look passed through my mother’s eyes. She was happy at that moment, but it soon faded back to sadness.

“He always hoped you would find someone,” Mom said. “He wanted to see you get married. To see you happy.”

“I’m plenty happy,” I said.

“You’re a loner,” Mom said.

“And that’s how I like it.” I smiled. “Besides, I have everything I need at the shop. That place is my life now.”

“Work isn’t everything,” Mom said. “Even your dad would have told you that.”

“I know.” I sighed. “But, I can’t think about anything else right now. The shop is struggling too much. Some days, I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“Are things really that bad?” Mom frowned.

“Yes.” I nodded. “I don’t want to lie to you, but yes. They are. The money just isn’t there, and honestly, if I don’t think of something soon … I don’t even want to think about what will happen.”

“I wish I could help,” Mom said. “If only we had money not tied up somewhere else.”

“I don’t need your money,” I said quickly. “Dad left the shop to me, and I’ll find a way.”

I forced some conviction into my voice, but my mom saw right through it. Her eyes were narrowed with concern, and the way she patted my hand was just a touch too understanding. I hated that she knew about the shop’s financial struggles. I never wanted her to worry about anything ever again, but I wouldn’t lie to her. I wouldn’t keep secrets. She deserved more than that.

“I was thinking,” I said slowly. “There is one way I can keep the doors open for a little while. Dad and I talked about it before he died.”

Mom held up her hand to silence me. Her eyes lost their look of concern. She narrowed them in a glare and shook her head firmly.

“I know exactly what you’re going to say,” she said. “And the answer is no. You know your father was against that. He would never have been okay with it. Not ever.”

I nodded and let the subject drop. My mom was right. My dad would have killed me for even considering the possibility.

“You’ll find a way,” Mom said, her voice lighter now. “You always have, and you always will. I believe in you, and so did your dad. He wouldn’t have left you the shop if he didn’t.”

“Thanks.”

I tried to smile, but I knew it looked fake. I was scared, and no amount of encouragement from my mom could change that.

Still, I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. I made sure the conversation stayed light after that. My mom had been through enough. The last thing she needed was more stress.