1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [41]
“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.