1105 Yakima Street

“What?” she said heatedly.



Then Will hauled her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. When he released her, she faltered for a second or two.



He looked as shocked as she’d felt when she’d kissed him.



“Where are you going?” he asked again, his voice faint.



“Home.” He wasn’t the only one with voice problems. Her own sounded as if a mouse had gotten control of her voice box; her words came out like a high-pitched squeak.



“Will you be back in the morning?” He seemed anxious, as though concerned that she might resign her position.



“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”



“I didn’t want a little thing like a kiss to stand between us,” he said with a frown.



“You kissed me.”



“Yes, I know.”



“And I kissed you…first. Okay, I’ll admit it.”



“Do you plan on doing it again?”



“Why are you asking?” After all, he was the one who claimed she was a big-boned, opinionated windbag. “Do you want to kiss me again?”



His head shot up. “Let’s just call this whole episode a slip in judgment.”



“On both our parts,” she added.



He offered her a tentative smile. “On both our parts,” he agreed.



Twenty



The puppy’s soft mewling cry woke Grace from a sound sleep. Cliff had been feeding Beau in the middle of the night, and usually seemed to hear the puppy before Grace did. Often she got up, too, but there really wasn’t much she could do. So, after a few minutes she simply returned to bed.



“Okay, okay, I hear you,” she muttered as she threw aside the covers. Cliff continued to sleep peacefully, which told her he was especially tired. It was her turn to get up with the puppy.



Beau slept in a cardboard box in the corner of their bedroom. She didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anyplace else they could keep him where he could be heard at night. Unfortunately, he still needed to be fed every few hours.



Reaching for her fleece housecoat at the end of the bed, Grace slipped it on and tucked her feet into the warm, fuzzy pink slippers that had been a gift from her daughter Maryellen last Christmas.



Cliff had the puppy formula ready, so she got it out of the kitchen and carried Beau into the living room. As she set him in her lap, he latched on to the small rubber nipple and sucked greedily.



“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” she felt obliged to inform the puppy. “Buttercup was a great-looking dog,” she said aloud. Sighing, she realized she actually wanted this small, runt-of-the-litter dog to feel jealous. Beau wouldn’t grow up to be half the dog Buttercup was. Nope. Not in a million years.



“I hope you’re happy,” she said. Beau might think he’d finally got her where he wanted her, but he was dead wrong. Grace had no intention of letting this puppy, or any other dog, capture her affections. The only reason she’d agreed to take him was as a favor to Beth. Even now she was sorry she’d allowed herself to be talked into this.



Grace had managed to steel herself against the puppy—so far. In fact, she went out of her way not to pay attention to Beau. During the day Cliff looked after him, which helped. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with fellow horse-breeders the next day and wouldn’t be able to bring Beau with him. That meant she’d have to take the puppy to work for the first time—something she’d rather not do.



Holding the baby bottle, she focused her gaze on the opposite wall. “Buttercup would’ve looked after you,” she said. It was still difficult not to tear up when she thought of her beloved golden retriever. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of Buttercup. Her dog had always greeted her when she returned from work, and in the evenings Buttercup would lie at Grace’s feet while she read or watched television.



“You could pet him, you know.” Cliff’s voice startled her. Grace looked up to see her husband leaning against the archway that led into the living room.



“What time is it?” he asked.



“I didn’t see. Early. Too early for either of us to be up. This dog isn’t worth losing sleep over,” she grumbled.



“Sure he is,” Cliff said, crossing his arms. “Just look at him, cuddled up on your lap. Pet him, Grace. He needs affection.”



“He’s not getting it from me.”



Cliff shook his head. “You’re a hard woman.”



She ignored that. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”



“Which is what?”



“You’re trying to coax me to be friends with Beau. Well, it isn’t going to happen.”



“You bought him the chew toy.”



She had, but that was for self-preservation. “I didn’t want him cutting his teeth on my shoes.” Because she was often on her feet for long periods of time, Grace purchased high-end pumps that were both attractive and designed for comfort. The last thing she wanted was for Beau to make a meal out of one of those.



“I have that meeting at ten,” Cliff reminded her.



“I know.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she had little cause for complaint, since Cliff had been so accommodating toward the puppy.



“He’ll sleep all morning.”



“We can only hope.” She worried about what would happen if the puppy got away from her at the library. If he got lost…



“He’s a good-natured little guy.”



“Maybe someone will steal him,” she joked. Well…sort of joked.



“Grace!”



His disapproval annoyed her. “If you’re up, you might as well feed him.”



“I’d rather watch you.”



Grace frowned. “You don’t seriously want this dog, do you?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Puppies are a nuisance.” The fact that Cliff had disregarded her wishes concerning this dog didn’t sit well with her. It hadn’t taken him more than a day to fall under Beau’s spell.



“If anyone had asked me,” Cliff said, “I would’ve agreed with you. We don’t need a puppy.”



“Thank goodness,” she murmured.



“Then Beau arrived on our doorstep…”



“He was foisted on me by a woman with a conniving mind,” Grace said irritably.



“He’s a good puppy.”



“He’s a nuisance.”



“To you, maybe, but he’s grown on me.”



“Cliff,” she wailed. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you think it was any accident that Beth placed this puppy with us? You’re falling right in with her schemes.”



“Is that so bad? All Beth wants is a good home for these puppies.”



“But I don’t want a puppy,” Grace said, glaring across the room at her husband. “Or any other dog for that matter. Buttercup is gone, and that’s the end of any pets for us. Agreed?” she asked pointedly.



Maybe Cliff thought he could convince her to change her mind; in that case, she wanted it understood right now that wasn’t going to happen.



“Whatever you say, Grace. This is totally up to you.”



“Good, because my decision’s already made.” She heard a sucking noise and realized the bottle was empty. Gently she withdrew the nipple from Beau’s mouth.



“It wouldn’t hurt you to give him a bit of affection.”



Grace ran her index finger down the puppy’s back. He was so small and skinny she could feel the ridges of his spine. Poor thing really was undernourished. To Cliff’s credit, Beau looked healthier than when he’d first arrived, but that wasn’t saying much.



Beau’s deep brown eyes seemed to plead with her. Well, if he was hoping to steal her heart, he could look elsewhere.



“Should I give him a second bottle?” she asked.



“No. It’s not good to feed him too much at once. Better to let him eat smaller meals but more often.”



That made sense.



“I don’t need to burp him, do I? Like a baby?”



“No. He’ll be asleep in a few minutes.”



Sure enough, Beau settled contentedly onto her lap and quickly went back to sleep. Grace wished it was as easy for her. When she returned Beau to his box and got into bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Cliff, on the other hand, obviously had no problem. Within minutes—no, seconds, she thought enviously—he was deep in dreamland.



Lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, Grace recalled the day Charlotte Rhodes had brought Buttercup to the house. Except that Charlotte had been Charlotte Jefferson then.



That was such a dark time in Grace’s life. Dan had gone missing and, to all appearances, seemed to have run off with another woman. She remembered the day someone had reported seeing him in town, driving a pickup truck. Later, her husband had been spotted just down the street from the library. Grace had run out, coatless, chasing after him in such a frantic hurry that she’d stumbled, fallen and skinned her knee.



It wasn’t Dan that day. It couldn’t have been. Almost a year passed before she learned that her husband wasn’t with another woman. He’d killed himself, unable to let go of a crime he’d committed as a young man serving in Vietnam.



For years after the war he’d periodically sink into black moods, during which he’d lash out at those around him, at those who loved him. Any effort to question or comfort him was met with fierce, uncontrollable anger. After a while, Grace stopped trying. His mood would reverse itself after a few days or weeks and it would be as if nothing had happened. For their entire married life, she’d loved a man who had what was essentially a split personality.



Grace must have fallen asleep because the alarm startled her awake. Her eyes flew open and she sat up and switched it off. Cliff rolled over, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. Leaning down, she kissed his ear. “I’ll start the coffee,” she said.



“Thanks,” he mumbled.



She climbed out of bed and grabbed her housecoat. Shrugging into it as she walked to the kitchen, Grace paused at the cardboard box to discover Beau tightly curled up in the receiving blanket Cliff had found for him. “I see the alarm didn’t bother you any,” she whispered.



She waited until there was enough coffee in the pot to fill two mugs, then carried them into the bedroom. Cliff was up and in the shower.



Drinking her coffee as she dressed, she slipped into a long-sleeved polo shirt and a jumper. She wore something similar most days; it was almost a uniform. Cliff took his coffee from the dresser as he strolled out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. The radio was reporting on weather and traffic in the Seattle area. Half listening, she plugged in her curling iron and applied moisturizer to her face.



When Grace had finished putting on makeup and fixing her hair, she saw that Cliff had removed Beau from his box. The puppy had made his way over to one of her fluffy slippers, snuggled inside and gone right back to sleep.



“You have to admit that’s cute,” Cliff said, coming to stand behind her.



“No, I do not. I don’t want that dog in my shoe.”