Mommy Loves The Doggy Doctor (Mommy's Little Matchmakers Book 6)

by Deb Kastner

  “Where’s Pudgy?” she asked in an overly-bright voice.

  “That’s a good question,” said Dr. Luke. “He usually stays right by your side.”

  “Pudge-Face,” Mommy called, just as Gwenny and Dr. Luke had hoped she would. “Pudgy-Wudgy was a Dog, where are you?”

  “You never did stop with the nicknames, did you?” Luke asked with a chuckle.

  “He still comes when I call. See?”

  Pudgy entered the room with a small bag in his mouth. He went directly to Gwenny’s side and sat nicely, just as he’d been trained to do.

  “What’s this?” Mommy asked, taking the bag from Pudgy’s mouth and holding it out to Gwenny.

  “No, Mommy. It’s for you.”

  “For me? Is this a birthday present from Pudgy?”

  Gwenny giggled and clapped her hands in delight.

  “Not exactly,” Dr. Luke said, removing the ring box from the bag and dropping to one knee in front of Mommy.

  Tears filled Mommy’s eyes.

  Oh, no.

  Dr. Luke was supposed to stop Mommy from crying and make her laugh again. Wasn’t that the whole point of finding Mommy a new husband?

  Dr. Luke was smiling, though, so maybe everything was okay after all.

  “I’ve already spoken to Gwenny and Pudgy,” he said. “I think you already know how much you—and they—have changed my life for the better. I love you with my whole heart. Now the only thing that would make my life better is for us to become a family. In my heart, I already feel as if we are. Will you marry me, my love?”

  Mommy pulled Dr. Luke to his feet and kissed him, right there in front of Gwenny and Granny Ruth.

  “I guess I’m the last one to say yes,” said Mommy, “If you’ve already spoken to everyone else. So I’m going to say it—and exclaim it the way Gwenny would say it. The right way. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  What’s Next?

  Read the prologue of MOMMY LOVES THE PRINCIPAL book 1 of Mommy’s Little Matchmakers…

  Molly Romano kicked the back of her Hush Puppies against the leg of the swivel chair. She’d chosen to sit in the grown-up chairs at the Principal’s desk rather than at the small table with the bright orange and red chairs that had the cutouts in the back. She’d never understood why elementary school chairs had the cutouts in the backs? Did teachers think kids needed the ventilation at their backs and bottoms?

  From her perch, she looked around the inner sanctum of the leader of her newest school. It was her fourth school in six years. That is if you count kindergarten. This would be her third principal’s office visit in that time.

  On the walls were, of course, pictures of the man in charge surrounded by kids. Like all the other pictures on the other principals’ walls, this one was dressed in a clean white shirt. He had graying hair, but a young face. A very young face. Just looking at his face, Molly would’ve guessed this man was her mom’s age.

  Another difference that this principal had over the other two was the kids around him. They were actually grinning, not smiling as though they were being forced. The kids looked like they were having a good time. A few of them were looking up at the principal as though they even liked him.

  On the desk was also a gold placard that proudly displayed the words Principal. There was an emphasis on the end of the word as PAL in red, capital letters. Molly supposed it was to indicate that the man wanted to be friends with the kids.

  There was also a picture of the same man dressed as Santa. Molly was old enough to know that Santa didn’t exist. Her father had told her so when she was five despite her mother’s protests. He did tell her that reindeer were real but didn’t fly. Rabbits didn’t lay eggs. There was also no Tooth Fairy.

  He’d promised there were no monsters in her closet. But she wasn’t so sure about that one. She was sure there hadn’t been any in her old home which had been an apartment. On the other side of the closet had been her parents’ bedroom. She’d heard them arguing loud enough to scare away any potential closet monsters.

  She now lived in an old house with two levels and a big backyard. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side of her new closet. It was quiet in her grandparents’ old house. All so very quiet.

  Molly hated it.

  A knock sounded on the other side of the door. Molly wondered if she should say come in? But there was no need. The door swung open and in the frame stood the man that was in the picture frames.

  “Good afternoon, Molly.”

  His smile was big and bright. Molly was instantly suspicious. Instead of greeting him the way she was taught by her mother -with manners- she stared mutely; the way she’d observed her father do.

  “My name is Principal Kidd.”

  He stuck out his hand. She was already in enough trouble, she decided to show she did have some manners. She shook his hand. But lightly, and not firmly like her grandpa had taught her.

  “I hear you’ve been causing a bit of mischief in your class,” Principal Kidd said as he took his seat.

  Molly shrugged. “It was just a joke.”

  “Mrs. Steen didn’t think so. She didn’t think glitter on the whiteboard eraser was a laughing matter.”

  “I still say that it could’ve been a fairy come to brighten her dull lesson.”

  And that tall tale would’ve stuck. But the whole class had told on her. Every single head had turned to her, many fingers pointed, her name came out of the mouth of each kid in the classroom. What kind of kids didn’t appreciate a joke played on the teacher? Especially a lemon-pinched mouth, something-smells-bad nosed, beady-eyes-peering-over glasses teacher like Mrs. Steen.

  Since she’d been here the last two weeks, not a single person had missed a homework assignment. Every hand went up when the teacher asked a question. Molly was sure she was in the Upside Down version of schools and Mrs. Steen was a Demogorgon sucking the spirit out of these kids.

  But the principal didn’t try to abduct her into another realm. He leaned back in his own adult-sized swivel chair and chuckled softly. It wasn’t a monstrous, big belly laugh. He didn’t flash sharp teeth. It was almost a giggle, like when she and her mother used to have tickle wars.

  “Mrs. Steen said that the other day you erased the numbers on her ruler?”

  “We were talking about world leaders. I was trying to participate in the lesson with a utilitarian ruler.”

  Now the principal threw back his head and outright laughed. It surprised Molly. It had been so long since she’d heard an adult laugh, especially a man. Her father was always frowning, or upset, or just plain angry.

  “You’re a smart kid, Molly. You have a great imagination.”

  Molly couldn’t figure this guy out? “So, you’re not going to suspend me? Or give me after school detention?”

  The gray-haired man with the young man’s face tilted his head like Tweety Bird. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because what I did was… wrong.”

  Mr. Kidd nodded.

  Uh oh. Was this it? Had she slipped and fallen into his trap? Was he now going to tell her that she was doing what she did for attention? She’d watched a couple of episodes of the Dr. Phil show with her grandma. This was some of that reversal psychology.

  “I’ve read your file,” he said. “Before coming to Barton Elementary, you’ve been to three different schools in the past six years.”

  “My family moved around a lot.”

  “But you’ve always received high marks in your academics…and a lot of notes about your behavior.”

  Mr. Kidd lifted his brow at her. But he didn’t roll his eyes like the last two principals did. Or like her father did when she tried to talk to him but he was too busy, always too busy.

  Mr. Kidd didn’t look too busy at all. He didn’t frown or look upset, or angry. He was still smiling at her.

  It reminded her of how her mom smiled. In fact, his laugh had also reminded Molly of her mom. It had been so long since she’d heard her mom laugh.

 
“I think you’re a special kid,” Mr. Kidd was saying. “In fact, you’re my favorite kind of kid; smarts and imagination. I think you can fit in here if you give us a chance.”

  Molly felt something twitch in her chest. She gazed up at the principal and the sincerity in his gaze. He wasn’t playing any tricks. He meant it. Maybe he wasn’t like the rest? Maybe she could give him a chance?

  “I will have to call your parents.”

  And now she wanted to revoke that chance. Her shoulders slumped at the thought of her mother receiving yet another call from a school. “It’s just my mom.”

  “I’m guessing by your tone, she won’t think the fairy eraser was funny?”

  “She would’ve thought so. Before the divorce. Now she’s always so serious.”

  Instead of reaching for the phone, Principal Kidd leaned forward. “My parents are divorced too. They got divorced when I was your age.”

  Molly spied a picture at the corner of the principal’s desk. In it was a picture of an even younger version of the man, still with gray hair. He wore a square cap on his head and was dressed in a dark cape. Likely his graduation. He was standing between two smiling adults.

  “Yup, that’s them. Oh, they get along. They just weren’t right for each other. They’re both happily remarried to other people.”

  Molly knew her dad was seeing other women. He’d started while he and her mom were still married. Maybe that’s why they got divorced? Molly wasn’t sure. But her dad did seem happier now. The few times she’d seen him since the divorce.

  Her mom hadn’t dated any other man at all. Maybe her mom should start to date? Then maybe she’d laugh again.

  Just like the principal laughed…

  Molly looked up at Principal Kidd. He didn’t have a ring on his left hand. She hadn’t seen any pictures of him with women his own age. Just pictures of him with his parents and with kids.

  “What’s your mom’s name?” he asked. “Oh, I’ve got it here. Kylee...”

  “Kylee Romano,” Molly finished for him. “But she’s going by her original name, her maiden name.”

  “Kylee Bauer? Your mom is Kylee Bauer?”

  “Yes. Do you know her?”

  Her mom had grown up in the small town of Saint Judith’s in Northern Virginia. Molly had never visited before now. Her grandparents would always come to visit wherever they were living at that moment in time. Molly and her mom were living in Grandma and Grandpa’s

  old house now that they’d retired and moved to Florida.

  “Yeah,” said Principal Kidd. “Yeah, I know Kylee Bauer.” His eyes got that gooey faraway look like a Looney Tunes cartoon character when they fell in love.

  Wait? So, Principal Kidd knew her mom. And he got the lovey-dovey look just at hearing her name. And he wasn’t married.

  A plan began to form in Molly’s brain. One that would require a bit of imagination and probably some fairy sparkles if it were to work.

  What happens next?

  Don’t wait to find out…

  Head to Amazon to purchase or borrow your copy of MOMMY LOVES THE PRINCIPAL so that you can keep reading this sweet romance series today!

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  Read the first chapter of LOVE’S PRAYER, book 1 of the FIRST STREET CHURCH ROMANCES…

  Ben Davis had once believed in God. He had once believed in miracles, fate, divine intervention, and all the similar lies people tell themselves to get through the day. Perhaps if he still believed, he wouldn’t find himself so tempted to never get out of bed—not even to eat—and to eventually die a slow, private death in the only place that still offered him any comfort at all.

  On this day, a Thursday, he spent longer than usual blinking up at the ceiling and wondering if he should just end it all with a swift bullet to the brain. After all, that’s what his older brother, Stephen, had done seven years ago. He’d wandered into the town square and shot himself clean in the face for all of Sweet Grove to see. People still talked about it to this day, and those who didn’t speak of it definitely thought of it.

  Like his mother, Susan. She waded through the memories, attempting to silence them with the bottle. But even though the liquor often ran out, her grief remained endless, unquenchable.

  Ben wasn’t saddened by the loss of his brother. Even though he sometimes felt as if he should be. No, he was angry—rage was another unquenchable commodity in the Davis household. Stephen had selfishly chosen to end it all. He’d hurled his issues straight at Ben, who, ever since that day, had been tasked with paying the mortgage, tending to their mother who had spiraled down the dark path of addiction, and without an outlet to enjoy any of the things he had spent years working toward and hoping for.

  He’d turned down his full-ride scholarship to college, because he needed to take care of things in Sweet Grove—things that only got worse the more his mother was left to grapple with her grief. Recovery remained a summit she just couldn’t reach, no matter how hard she climbed. So he’d turned the university down year after year, and eventually the admissions board had stopped asking.

  Which left him here today, staring up at the popcorn ceiling above his twin-size bed, no longer bothering to wonder if life could ever be any different. At 6:12, he placed one foot after another onto the shaggy carpet and went to clean up for work. At 6:25, he was out the door with a piece of half-toasted bread in one hand and a banana in the other. He had five minutes to make the short walk from the quaint—and “quaint” was putting it kindly—home he shared with his mother to the local market where he worked as a bagger and delivery boy. Yes, even his job title suggested a temporary arrangement, a job better suited to a boy than the twenty-four year old man he had become.

  “Good morning!” sang his boss, Maisie Bryant, as he tromped through the sliding glass doors. Each morning she arranged a fresh display of local produce and other seasonal specialties right at the front of the shop. As always, she took great pride in her work.

  Ben hated that his boss was only a couple of years older than him. Maisie had managed to escape town long enough to earn a degree before returning to run her family’s grocery store. While he didn’t know the exact numbers, he could bet that the youngest Bryant child made at least triple what he did for the same day’s work. But that was life for you—or at least for Ben. Never fair, not in the least.

  “Don’t I get a hello?” Maisie teased him as always. Some days he liked her chipper demeanor. This was not one of those days.”

  “Hi,” he mumbled. “I’m going to go check the stock. See you in a bit.”

  “Wait,” she called before he could manage to make his escape. “I’ll handle the stock. The staff over at Maple’s called, and they need a delivery first thing. Think you can handle that? The purchase order is on the clock desk.”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Ben hurried to put the order together and load up the designated Sweet Grove Market truck. A smiling red apple beamed from the side of the cargo box. He hated that thing, but he did like having the opportunity to drive around a little, let the wind wash over him as he rolled about town. It sure beat walking everywhere, and since it offered his only opportunity to get behind the wheel, he relished every chance he got. Occasionally, Maisie would let him borrow the truck to head into the next town over and lose himself in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

  He’d once loved living in the type of place where everyone knew everyone, and everyone looked out for everyone, but he hated how people who had once been his friends had begun to pity him. Ever since Stephen’s death, they couldn’t even look at him without betraying that sadness. Ben had become a reminder of how fragile life could be, of how everything could go to hell in the briefest of moments. And though their words were kind and their smiles were omnipresent, Ben knew better. He knew that he’d become a burden to them all, that his presence brought them sorrow.

  At first he’d tried to redirect them, to speak of something—anything—else, but after a while he just grew tired. It was easi
er to avoid them than to constantly have to apologize for the blight his terrible, selfish brother had brought onto their town. He’d have left if he could. By vehicle or bullet, it didn’t matter.

  But his mother needed him. And as small and insignificant as it seemed, so did Maisie.

  So he remained, day after day.

  And so began another dark morning for Ben Davis.

  * * *

  Summer Smith arrived in Sweet Grove right around that awkward time of day when the sun was starting to set and ended up in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to look away. She loved sunshine, which is why she’d jumped at the chance to attend college in Southern California, but now those four years had reached their conclusion and had left Summer more confused than ever about her future.

  Thank goodness her Aunt Iris needed her to run the Morning Glory flower shop for the season. Aunt Iris was going off on some fancy cruise she’d been saving up for half her adult life. True, that didn’t speak well of the money to be earned being a small-town florist, but, then again, Summer had never been much taken with flowers anyhow.

  The problem remained that she’d never really been much taken with anything. And now that she’d reached that pivotal stage of needing to pick a career and finally set down roots, she was hopelessly lost. Two months, one week, and three days—that’s how much time she had to figure it out. At that point, Aunt Iris would return from her sail around the world and be ready to take back her shop and home. So for the next two months and some-odd days, Summer would be living a borrowed life. Luckily, she’d always liked her Aunt Iris.

  Her aunt greeted her at the door wearing a brightly colored blouse with leaf fronds printed along the neckline, and with freshly dyed hair that still smelled of chemicals. “Oh, there’s my Sunny Summer!” she cooed.

  Summer laughed as her aunt hopped up and down, holding her tight. The hug probably could have lasted for days if a loud screeching hadn’t erupted from deep within the small ranch house. Iris let go of her niece and breezed through the doorway, dragging the smaller of Summer’s suitcases behind her.