“Yeah, okay,” I said. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head: I think you’re missing a couple words. “Thank you,” I added.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “If there’s anything else I can do, or if you do want to come to a meeting, just text or call, okay?”
“I will,” I said.
Nicole sent the picture seconds after she hung up. It was a profile shot, but you could still see the guy’s longish hair and the scruff on his face. There was a daisy chain of dandelions settled on his head like a crown, and I knew it was something Talley’d made for him. She’d made dozens for me over the years, maybe hundreds. But that was back when I was little. I hadn’t worn a dandelion daisy chain in years. This guy looked about Talley’s age, or maybe a little bit older, but not too much older. There were small lines at the corner of his eyes, but no major wrinkles. I’d say he was late-twenties, tops. He was sitting on a bench, and his body was facing the camera, so I could read the words on his T-shirt: Must Love Dogs.
I stared and stared at the picture. Who was he? Could he be Talley’s large gentleman? Figuring out Talley’s list was like climbing a mountain. I’d been totally exhausted and ready to give up and go home. Then I’d found the flyer, and it was like finally seeing the peak of the mountain—nearly there! I couldn’t give up now! But it turned out all I’d seen was a vista point, and there was so much farther to climb.
I called Adam to update him on what I’d learned from Nicole, which was not much. Just a picture of the guy Talley’d been goofing off with, this one without her hands over his eyes. “I’m wracking my brain trying to think of ways to find him,” I told Adam. “All I can think to do is make up our own flyers—like, have you seen this man? And then put his picture underneath.”
“Just don’t post them on trees,” Adam said. “Bark is a protective layer, like skin.”
“I know,” I said.
“Sorry, I just said that to make you laugh. It wasn’t funny.”
“It was,” I said. “I’m just trying to think of what Talley would want from me. When she gave me a game when I was little and I couldn’t figure it out, she wouldn’t tell me the answer straight out. She’d give me another clue, and another. But I don’t have her to give more clues now, and I have no idea how to find a person I know next to nothing about—literally, all I know is what he looks like, that he hung out at Laurelwood Park at some point with Talley, and he had a T-shirt that said ‘Must Love Dogs.’”
“Is it navy with a silhouette of a dog?”
“It’s a black-and-white photo, so I can’t tell the color of the shirt, but it could be navy, and there is a silhouette of a dog. Are you psychic or something?”
“Wouldn’t it be your lucky day if I was?” Adam said. “But I might know where to find our mystery guy.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ADAM’S FAMILY HAD TWO DOGS, CHARLIE AND OTTO, and when the Hadlocks went on vacation, they left the dogs at a place called Must Love Dogs. The guy in the photo, whoever he was, was wearing an employee T-shirt.
Of course I was on Google faster than you can say “must love dogs.” There wasn’t any information about staff members on the website. But there was a lot of information about the company itself—it was the Bay Area’s premiere place for vet care, pet training, day care, and boarding. (Or at least it was the premiere place according to the website.) Must Love Dogs had a handful of locations, and if I had to, I’d show up at every single one of them.
I figured I’d start with the one in San Mateo, because that’s where Laurelwood Park was, which was where the picture was taken. If the guy in the photo didn’t work at the San Mateo location, I’d go to the next closest, and the next closest, and on and on until I found him.
I told Adam my plan—Must Love Dogs was already closed for the night. They had an emergency call line if your dog was boarded there. I doubted this would qualify as something they’d see as an emergency. But then I thought, it counted as an emergency to me, and if they got upset with me for calling, I’d just ask for forgiveness. I called—the guy who answered didn’t seem upset, but he did say I couldn’t show up outside their official business hours, which were from eight a.m. to eight p.m. So I planned to take the Caltrain to San Mateo in the morning and be on the doorstep of Must Love Dogs the minute it opened for business. Adam offered to drive me instead. I told him that he didn’t need to, but he insisted, so long as I didn’t mind getting there a little bit later, like around nine. He’d tell his mom he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t possibly go to work, but then he wouldn’t be able to leave the house till after she did.
“You don’t have to miss work for me,” I told him.
“You have no idea how much I want to miss work,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Adam pulled into Aunt Elise’s driveway at eight thirty on Wednesday morning, as promised. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,” I told him as we got on our way.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve done so much,” I said. “You called me back two weeks ago, even though I was a perfect stranger.”
“As anyone with any decency would’ve done.”
“You helped me pinpoint places on the list; you took me to Grizzly Cove for lunch—”
“You wouldn’t let me take you,” Adam said. “And you paid for the ice cream.”
“If you hadn’t suggested ice cream, we never would’ve found the flyer, I never would’ve spoken to Nicole or gotten the picture of our mystery guy, and we wouldn’t be headed to Must Love Dogs. Plus you’re chauffeuring us right now,” I said.
“Well, when you put it that way, I am pretty great,” Adam said.
“Seriously, you are. These last few days have been really tough and you’ve keep me company—really good company. And I know you said you never met Talley—”
“I didn’t.”
“But if you had met her. I mean, if she had met you, she would’ve liked you. She would’ve told me you were the kind of person I should have as a friend.”
“Aw, shucks, Weber,” he said. “Thank you.”
My phone buzzed and I looked down to see a text from Juno: U up? I’m hiding in the bathroom at the Hogans. It’s an emergency.
Me: What happened? Is everyone ok?
Juno: An AUDREY emergency!
Me: But no one is hurt, right?
Juno: Not yet . . . but I might have to kill her
Me: Ugh. Sorry. In the middle of something with Adam right now. Will call later.
Adam pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. The Must Love Dogs of San Mateo was in the corner of the building. Adrenaline was surging through my veins again. You’d think at this point I’d be used to the feeling; but if your body got used to the feeling of a surge of adrenaline, wouldn’t that cancel out the adrenaline?
We crossed the parking lot. Adam pulled open the door and we entered a small-ish anteroom, at the end of which was a counter. Behind that, through a glass pane, I could see at least a dozen dogs yapping and running around, chasing each other, chasing tennis balls, chasing their tails, the way dogs do.
A man stood behind the counter—not the guy in the picture, though he was wearing the same T-shirt: navy, like Adam had said, with the words Must Love Dogs in a semicircle above the silhouette of a dog. The name tag pinned to his shirt said: Derek ♥ Dogs.
“Hi. Can I help you?” Derek asked.
“I really hope so,” I said. “I’m looking for someone who I think might work here. I don’t know his name, but I have his picture.” I dug into my pocket for my phone and scrolled through my texts for the last one from Nicole, with the picture, which I held out toward Derek. My heart was thump-thumping away in anticipation, but Derek shook his head.
“Sorry, I don’t know the guy. He told you he worked here?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “It’s a long story, but I think he knew my sister. Any chance you ever saw her?” I pressed the button to get back t
o the home screen, and Talley’s face.
“No, don’t know her, either,” Derek said. “But I’m happy to answer any pet care questions you have.”
“Thanks, man,” Adam said. “We’re good on that. We’re just looking for this particular guy.”
“We have a number of other locations,” Derek said. “Burlingame and Foster City are probably closest.”
“We’re going to hit both,” Adam said.
Back in the car, Adam told me he thought we should try Burlingame first, because it was the only location north of San Mateo, and if not Burlingame, we’d circle back to Foster City, and continue heading south. “You’re the navigator,” I told him. I was still hopeful, but after we struck out, first in Burlingame and again in Foster City, I felt the gloom settling in again.
I didn’t say anything to Adam, but I guess he could tell anyway, because he reached over and patted my knee. “Belmont is next,” he said, “and I have a good feeling about it. I think we’ll get some answers there.”
We got to the Belmont location, another outdoor mall, though a bit more picturesque than the one in San Mateo. It was nestled into the side of a hill, and the building had the same kind of Spanish-tiled roof as the townhouses in Aunt Elise’s development. Must Love Dogs was in between a drugstore and a bagel shop. This time I got to the door first, so I held it open for Adam. I had the photo from Nicole already pulled up on my phone when I approached the woman behind the counter. Her name tag read: Vera ♥ Dogs.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for someone who I think maybe works here. Do you know this guy?”
“Oh yeah, that’s Griff,” Vera said.
Griff. His name was Griff!
“He doesn’t work at this location,” Vera went on. “But I can help you with whatever it is you need.”
“Can you tell me what location he works at?” I asked.
Vera started to answer, but then changed her mind. “No, I can’t tell you that,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re looking for Griff, but I suppose you’re not his friends, because if you were, you would’ve known his name without my having to say it. And I shouldn’t have said it. You should probably go now.”
“Please,” I said. “We’re not here to make trouble for you or Griff or anyone. I found a picture of him with my sister.” I was scrolling through pictures on my phone to pull it up. “She died last month, and I’m just trying to talk to the people that knew her. That’s all.”
I held out my phone and Vera considered the picture of Talley and Griff.
“I know you can’t see his face, but it’s clearly the same guy from the other picture, and I know that’s my sister with him, because those are her hands.”
“We wouldn’t make this up,” Adam added.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Vera said. “I’m sorry about your sister. Griff works at our place in Redwood City. Let me give you the address.” She recited it, and I typed it into my phone even though I already had the address of every Must Love Dogs location in the Bay Area. “I can call over there if you want and tell him to expect you.”
“That’d be great,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“You already did a lot,” I said.
“Hey,” Adam said. “Out of curiosity, would you describe Griff as a particularly large guy?”
“Oh yeah,” Vera said. “We call him the gentle giant.”
Adam and I locked eyes. I sucked in my breath.
“Is everything okay?” Vera asked.
I never knew how to answer that question, ATD. No, everything wasn’t okay. But I knew what Vera was getting at. “I think I’m finally figuring some things out,” I said.
“That’s good, right?” Vera said.
“Yeah, it’s good.”
“I won’t tell Griff what happened,” she said. “Unless you want me to. But I suppose he’d rather hear it from you.”
“Probably. Thanks again.”
“What was your sister’s name?”
“Talley,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ADAM PULLED INTO THE FIFTH PARKING LOT OF THE day, and we walked into the fifth Must Love Dogs location. My breath caught in my throat: there was Griff behind the counter. He was remarkably large, like a walking teddy bear, especially since his facial hair had grown in more. His hair was on the long side and was either wet or just greasy. His name tag said: Griffin ♥ Dogs.
“Picking up or dropping off?” he asked. “I don’t see a dog, so I guess that’s picking up.”
“Neither,” I told him. “I think Vera from Belmont may have called you?”
“Oh yeah, she just did.” He knocked himself in the side of his head with the heel of his hand. “How’d I forget that already? She said someone was coming because I knew their sister.”
“My sister,” I said.
“Right, right . . . What’s her name again?”
“Talley Weber.”
Griff’s eyes glazed over for a few seconds, and then he blinked and shook his head vigorously. His hair was greasy enough to not flop around. “Nope, there aren’t any Talleys in the ole memory bank. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Don’t think I knew her.”
“But you did know her,” I said. “I have a photo of you guys.” I pulled up the photo of Griff’s face covered by Talley’s hands, and turned it toward him. He took my phone from me to look closer.
“You’re right—I did meet this girl.” His face had broken into a grin. “Oh, man, she’s your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man,” he said again. “I totally remember her. She sent you here?”
“Sort of,” I said. “When did you meet her?”
“That day,” Griff said. “In the park. It was only for a few minutes, but sometimes there are minutes with a person that stick with you, you know?” I nodded; yes, I knew. Particularly minutes with Talley, I knew. “She had a different name, though,” Griff said.
“Natalie?” I guessed.
“No, that’s not it,” he said. “But names don’t matter. They don’t make the man. Your parents pick ’em, and then you’re saddled with someone else’s idea of who you’re supposed to be, but it’s not you. I say parents should leave a blank space for their kids’ name on the birth certificate, and let their kids fill it in when they’re old enough to write. If you’re old enough to write, you’re probably old enough to know yourself, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “So—”
“Then again, I probably would’ve named myself after Pikachu when I first started writing, so maybe you can have a placeholder name when you’re like five or so, and then you can change it again when a better name strikes you. Maybe that’s what your sister did.”
“What?”
“Picked a better name when it struck her.”
“Oh, sure,” I said. “Can you tell me anything else about Talley, or whatever she called herself?”
“She was with another girl,” Griff said.
“Do you remember her name?” Adam asked.
“Sure don’t. But I can tell you that they were making these flower things.”
“Daisy chains,” I said.
“Right. Those. They had a dozen of them,” Griff said. “I was watching them. They kept walking up to people, saying something, and then they’d put the flowers on their heads. I wondered what they were saying. I was trying to read their lips—some people can do that, you know.”
I did know. Juno was pretty good at it. Whenever she was talking to someone, she liked to face them, because then she could read their lips and fill in the blanks of whatever she couldn’t hear.
“But I couldn’t tell,” Griff went on. “Then your sister came over to me. She told me she was always on the lookout for people she could help, and she could help me by adding a daisy chain to my life. I bent down and she put it on my head. This other guy was walking around with a camera, and asked if he could capture the moment.”
“His name
is Rafe,” I supplied.
“Okay, cool, he didn’t tell us at the time,” Griff said. “He just said he had some kind of assignment—NHL photo revolution.”
“You mean revelations?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. He asked if he could take a picture, and I said sure, why the hell not? I think he sensed it was one of those moments that you want to preserve. Though I don’t really believe in photos. Make a memory, they last longer, as the saying goes.”
Actually, it was the opposite of what the saying was: take a picture, it lasts longer. But I didn’t correct him. “Did you—” I started.
The phone behind the counter started ringing. Griff said, “Hold that thought,” and answered. “Must Love Dogs. How may I help you?” There was silence and then, “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You can bring Diamond in, no problem.” He hung up and turned back to Adam and me. “Sorry ’bout that,” he said.
“Did you and my sister talk about anything else?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But there was something there. A moment of shared energy. You ask her. I bet she’ll tell you the same thing.”
I nodded as if I were able to ask her, and she’d be able to tell me, and I swallowed back the lump in my throat because the last thing I wanted to do was start crying here at Must Love Dogs in front of Griff.
“And the girl who was with her,” Adam said. “Did she say anything?”
“Hang on,” Griff said. He’d closed his eyes and had placed a hand against his forehead. “I’m feeling something.” He drummed his fingers on the counter and mumbled, “Diamond. Diamond, Diamond. Da da in the sky with diamonds . . .” His eyes popped open. “I’ve got it. The caller just now has a French bulldog named Diamond. Names don’t matter to me, but songs sure do. There’s a Beatles song called ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’ Your sister said her name was Lucy.”
The Survival List Page 15