Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  “Okay, she’s happy,” Ruth said as she hung up. “You should see what I did for her. I think it’s my best yet. It’s a hipster wedding. She wanted octopi; I gave her octopi. What she doesn’t know is I had octopi hidden among the flowers on my wedding invitations fifteen years ago, so she’s hardly breaking new ground. Anyway!” She clapped her hands. “Why don’t you tell me what you were going to tell me; then I’ll go. Based on your expression, your news is way better than mine.”

  Freida interrupted with a sassy yip, so Ruth placed her on the floor near where Spencer was standing. Then the game was on with the tiny Chihuahua dashing around and Spencer in barky pursuit. The shop echoed with the sound of dog play as they raced across the harlequin-patterned cement floor.

  Justine couldn’t hold in her excitement for another second. “I just met the director of Taylor’s new show at Monty’s, and he thinks Spencer might be able to play a part on it! He’s sending me a script. Like I have a clue what to do with a script!”

  “What? No way!” Ruth stared at her with her jaw hanging open. She moved her black-rimmed glasses onto her forehead for extra dramatic effect.

  Justine nodded. “But it’s not a sure thing, I have to audition him, and if he passes, check this out: we get to meet Anderson goddamn Brooks!”

  Ruth staggered a few steps, clutching her heart. Justine could always count on her to give important moments the reactions they deserved.

  “That’s big-time! Will you remember me when you’re rich and famous?”

  Justine laughed. “Spencer is the one about to get rich and famous; I’m just his bitch.”

  “Seriously, that’s incredible news. Congrats!” Ruth said as she settled herself in front of the computer, already half-focused on what she had to say. “When is it all going down?”

  “Soon. It’s going to happen so quickly that I won’t have time to get nervous.” She paused a beat. “Okay, that’s a lie. I’m definitely going to be nervous.”

  “Stop, you’re both going to do amazing.” Ruth pursed her lips. “Okay, can we shift gears for a sec? I’ve been sitting on this since yesterday and it’s killing me.”

  “You’ve got me a little freaked out. Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know; you have to tell me. So, I was on Facebook and I saw a photo that someone posted in my makers’ group. The subject looked awfully familiar.” She dragged her red nail down the touchscreen dramatically, scrolling to find the photo in question. “There it is. Look.”

  She swung the screen to face Justine.

  “Weird. I’ve never seen that photo of Spencer.” It was a close-up black-and-white image that looked like a professional modeling shot. “That’s definitely him, though. He’s got the one white ear with the polka dots. Maybe the rescue took it?”

  “Nope. Read it.” Ruth stepped aside.

  “You’re making me nervous. What’s going on?”

  “Just read it.”

  It was one of those posts that had been forwarded and shared so many times that it was hard to tell where it had originated. Justine leaned close to read the text.

  “My name is Griffin McCabe and this is my dog, Leo. It’s been over a year since he went missing, so the chances of finding him are low, but I’m hoping that if this photo gets shared enough we might be able to get him home to me. I miss him every single day. He was my best friend. Leo, if you’re out there, know that I’ll never stop looking for you. I’ll love you forever, doggo.”

  Justine looked at Ruth in slack-jawed horror, then over at her dog.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Spencer isn’t mine.”

  chapter four

  I found his work number,” Sienna said, not looking up from her phone at her spot behind the counter. “It’s right here. Griffin McCabe, platform planning and deployment manager at Vendere.”

  “What? How is that even possible? I just told you about him like three minutes ago.”

  In the flurry of the discovery, Justine hadn’t even mentioned the audition. Ownership rights to Spencer seemed more pressing than a moon-shot audition. She’d given Sienna the details about Spencer’s past in a breathless download before she was due to leave to care for a geriatric cat client. Reaching out to the guy who had posted the photo didn’t even seem like an option, yet as always, Sienna was pushing her to step way outside her comfort zone.

  Sienna shrugged. “I’m a supersleuth. I’ve spent some time on the dark web, picked up a few unauthorized search techniques. No biggie.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No, I’m not serious. I looked him up on LinkedIn. Which, if you’d listen to me and set up a profile, you could’ve done yourself.” Sienna reached into her pocket, then tossed Spencer a treat. He caught it in midair. “And even though it’s not the best photo with the profile, I can tell he’s hot,” she continued. “I mean, Spencer wouldn’t have just any old dude on the end of his leash. Would ya, bud? You had a DILF for sure.”

  “It’s not like that matters. Hiatus, remember?” Justine said primly as she dug through a shipment of new leashes she probably couldn’t afford.

  Sienna placed her hands together and bowed to Justine. “And I honor your hiatus. But would a quickie with a DILF count?”

  “Yes, it would count. I need to get the Nick-stink off of me before I get out there again. I’m not even thinking about dating, especially someone who might try to steal my dog. Which means I’m not calling him.”

  “Yes, you are,” Sienna replied as she packed her things to leave. “You knew you were going to reach out the second you figured out what happened with Spencer.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I know how you operate! I’ve read your tarot cards enough to see your primary energy vibration is empathy. I can tell by the way you’re trying to keep busy over there that you’re thinking about how you’d feel if it happened to you. How you’d feel if you lost Spencer.” Sienna paused. “Am I right?”

  “I don’t know.” Justine frowned and shrugged. “No. Maybe. But what if Spencer ran away from him on purpose? What if he was a terrible dog dad and he kept Spence in a crate all day?” She warmed to the idea. “What if it was a prison break?”

  Sienna pursed her lips. “Or what if something spooked Spencer and he slipped off his leash and just got lost, accidentally? I mean, the dude is still looking for him a year later. He obviously loved him.”

  Justine glared at Sienna. Common sense was so overrated.

  “Fine,” she huffed. “But I don’t want him to know who I am and where I live. He might try to steal Spencer back or something; you never know. I could send him an anonymous letter with a photo to let him know that Spencer is okay and leave it at that. Proof of life, like a kidnapper.”

  “A paper letter with an actual printed photo? And, like, a stamp? Sounds like a lot of work.”

  Justine sighed. “You really are young, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, and you’re a totally decrepit, what, thirty-year-old? Anyway, just call him.” Sienna leaned against the door and pushed backward, still focused on her phone. “Texting his number now. Bye.”

  The bell above the door jingled as Sienna left, and Spencer peeked out from behind the counter.

  “Pavlov’s dogs got nothing on you, buddy.”

  The rain hadn’t let up, which meant that shoppers were unlikely. Maybe a few quick food pickups, but she wasn’t going to luck into a new-puppy parent eager to spoil their little one. There was still plenty of work to be done, most of it of the accounting variety, but given the dreary day, the last thing she wanted to think about was her store’s soul-crushing bottom line.

  But she didn’t want to think about the Leo/Spencer situation either.

  Justine glanced at her phone. The text from Sienna was just Griffin McCabe’s number with paws, hearts, and prayer hands emojis next to it.


  “I shouldn’t, right?” she asked Spencer as she walked over to where he was getting ready for his afternoon nap. “He’ll want to take you back because you’re so amazing.”

  Spencer gave a swish of his tail and dipped his shoulders into an exaggerated downward dog, closing his eyes as he stretched on top of his navy corduroy dog bed. He straightened up and dragged his paw along the fabric.

  “Make your bed, bud,” Justine encouraged as she sat on the floor next to him. His elaborate pre-sleep process was one of her favorite rituals.

  Spencer dug at the bed rhythmically with one paw, then switched to the other. He dragged his nose along the bed a few times, then went back to digging at it. He turned in circles a few times, then collapsed on the bed so that he was flush against her body with his head resting on her thigh, like he was an anchor that would keep her from drifting away. He sighed.

  Justine massaged Spencer’s shoulder and he moved even closer to her, stealing her warmth in the drafty, high-ceiling space.

  For a moment she allowed herself to experience what Griffin McCabe might have felt when he discovered that his dog was missing. Did he stay out all night looking for him? Did he put up lost dog posters with Spencer’s photo? How long did he keep hoping he’d turn up? Did he cry?

  Her heart twisted as she realized that Griffin’s “missing” dog was resting safe and sound beside her and he had no clue. Based on the Facebook post, he hadn’t given up hope, even after a year with no leads. She closed her eyes in defeat.

  Damn it, she had to do it, and it had to happen now. If she waited, she’d find a million reasons not to call. But now, on a dead-end day when she could feel his loss in the pit of her belly, she could allow it. It wasn’t fair to let the stranger continue to wonder if his dog was dead or alive.

  But . . . but what if he was an a-hole and demanded that she give him back? And who actually owned Spencer? Was there a statute of limitations on pet parenthood?

  Justine felt herself getting preemptively angry at Griffin.

  “No matter what he says, he’s not getting you back.” She twirled Spencer’s fur into little peaks on the top of his head. “But do I text him or call him? What’s safer?”

  She tried to envision how she’d phrase what happened in a text.

  “I have your dog”?

  It sounded like she’d kidnapped him.

  “Your dog is alive”?

  Kidnapped, again.

  “I have something to tell you that might come as some surprise . . .”

  She realized that she needed to hear his voice. It would be the only way she could gauge if he’d been good to Spencer, back when he was Leo. She’d keep the call short, the details sparse, so he wouldn’t be able to figure out anything about her.

  The more she thought about how to choreograph the call, the less confident she felt about placing it. But Justine braced herself for the weirdness to come, took a deep breath, and dialed.

  As the phone rang and rang, she realized that he probably wouldn’t answer an unknown number. She was about to hang up when she heard his voice.

  “This is Griffin, may I help you?”

  He sounded friendly and upbeat, almost like he’d been expecting her call. It knocked her off-balance for a second. She wasn’t ready for him to sound pleasant. For an instant her brain started creating a face to match the voice, but she stopped herself before she could humanize him too much. She needed to keep her guard up. What she was doing was risky, no matter how warm and inviting he sounded.

  “Hi, my name is Justine. Do you have a couple minutes to talk? Did I catch you at a bad time?” She kicked herself for not organizing her thoughts before calling.

  “Not at all. I have a few minutes.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s going on? Is that update giving you problems? My phone’s been ringing about it nonstop.”

  “No, actually this is about—”

  “Wait, don’t tell me.” He chuckled and she involuntarily smiled at the sound of it. “You locked yourself out. Don’t worry, it happens! I’m here to help. Are you in front of your computer?”

  He sounded so genuinely kind that her nerves dropped to a manageable level. “This isn’t about business. I’m sorry, is it a bad time? Are you busy?” Her finger hovered near the phone, ready to hit the disconnect button.

  “Oh. Yeah, I have a minute.” A wariness replaced the happy tone. “How can I help?”

  Justine took a deep breath.

  “I don’t know how else to say this, but . . . your dog, Leo, is here with me. I mean, his name is Spencer now, and I’ve had him for a year, and I adopted him, officially. I have the paperwork and everything. But I wanted you to know he’s okay.” The words came out in a rush. It was important for him to understand that his dog was fine, but also that Spencer was no longer his dog.

  “Wait, what?” Griffin went silent for a moment. “You have Leo? How did you find me? Where are you?”

  She hesitated. Once she answered, there was no going back. “I saw your Facebook post.” She wanted to stop there, but she inexplicably opened her stupid mouth and continued. “We’re in Rexford.”

  “Oh my God, you’re only two hours away! I’m in Brooklyn. He’s okay? Leo’s healthy?” Griffin’s voice went up an octave, like he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Spencer stirred and for a second Justine wondered if he could hear and recognize Griffin’s voice. Regret flooded through her.

  And worse, jealousy.

  “He’s great,” Justine answered confidently. “He’s amazing. And happy. So happy.” And she knew it was true. Her dog was her dog and he was exactly where he belonged.

  “I’m in shock. I’ve been waiting for this day . . .” Griffin’s voice broke. He paused to collect himself and Justine found herself moved despite the simmering ugly feelings that were making her want to hang up. “To be honest, I actually never thought this day would come. Thank you so much for tracking me down. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  It felt like a power move, especially considering she couldn’t get his name out of her head.

  “I’m . . .” She considered giving him the wrong name since he couldn’t remember how she’d introduced herself. “I’m Justine.”

  “Justine!” It came out in a whoop, like he was toasting her. “You made my day. You have no idea. Leo was my partner in crime since he was a tiny puppy. We spent nearly every day together for two years. I am so fucking happy right now!”

  Justine calculated how her year with Spencer compared to Griffin’s two before she answered. “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I just wanted you to know he’s okay, so—”

  “When can I meet you to pick him up?”

  Justine almost dropped the phone. Suddenly her butt felt numb from sitting on the cement floor. “Wait. What?”

  Griffin was silent for a moment.

  “Isn’t that why you called me?”

  “I thought I told you . . . he’s, uh . . . S-S-Spencer is my dog.” She stammered.

  He didn’t respond.

  “I adopted him, paid the three-hundred-dollar fee, signed the official paperwork, and everything,” Justine continued, her voice strong. “I’ve had him for a year. He’s . . . mine.” She felt like a grown-up version of Veruca Salt.

  “Well, I have papers that say he’s mine,” Griffin said slowly.

  They both paused, and the only sound was Spencer snoring softly beside her.

  Justine went for his jugular. “But you lost him. He ran away from you.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, hold up. That’s not how it happened. I need to explain the whole situation.” Anger seeped into his voice.

  Justine realized she’d made a huge mistake by calling Griffin. He was treating her like she was someone who answered a lost dog poster, not the rightful owner of the dog in the photo on the telephone pole.<
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  “You know what? I’ve gotta run,” she said in a rush. “I just wanted you to know he’s okay.”

  “Wait, can we set up a time to meet and talk this out? I’m going to be home—”

  “Sorry,” Justine cut him off. “I’ll call you back later.” She hung up the phone abruptly and tossed it on the bed next to Spencer.

  It was official. She’d just made a huge mistake.

  chapter five

  Justine gazed out at the acres of lavender plants as she drove up the driveway to Monty’s house a day later. Everything was happening so quickly that she barely had time to process the stress. At least the audition would keep her from thinking about the guy with the customer-service voice who wanted to steal her dog.

  Monty’s lavender field was the very reason she’d ended up in Rexford, and Justine felt a pang as she remembered cutting her way down the rows of purple flowers with her trusty wood-handled sickle. It was backbreaking work during the hottest weeks of the summer, when the sun was so relentless that even taking breaks beneath the trees that bordered the fields didn’t provide relief. But the camaraderie with her fellow harvesters and the beauty all around her made the hard work bearable. She loved going home at the end of the day with a feeling of accomplishment, exhausted in a way that no desk work could touch, then kicking off her lavender-scented sneakers and finding blossom pods trapped in them. Working in the fields had been a perfect transition from her old life to her new.

  Prior to landing in Rexford, she’d been a rising star at the Good Market, a small regional all-natural grocery chain in Watertown. She’d been hired right out of college as an assistant category manager in the nonfoods wellness and pets departments and quickly jumped to full manager. Justine loved her job until the powers that be started pushing price over quality for their furry consumers, assuming their human shoppers wouldn’t notice. When her boss told her that they were discontinuing her passion project, bringing small, regional natural pet brands into the store in favor of more chain products, she quit without a safety net. Justine heard through a friend of a friend that someone in Rexford needed seasonal harvesting help, and what was supposed to be a stopover turned into a summer in the blazing sun in Monty’s fields and, eventually, Tricks & Biscuits.