Starlight on Willow Lake

by Susan Wiggs

  Nah. She was imagining it. Or maybe he was just being a regular guy. Mom was not exactly a fashion queen, but she had a really good figure that she never showed off, except when she went swimming.

  Cara turned her attention to Milo. She wrapped a towel around her waist and walked over to him. “Hey,” she said. “Are you here collecting again for kibbles?”

  “Nope, just wanted to watch you flirting with Mr. Dreamboat. Or should I say Dream-ski?”

  “I wasn’t flirting.”

  “That’s good, because it looked like a fail. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Milo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Bree.”

  “Hiya, Milo. Welcome to summer.”

  “So,” said Cara, “what are you doing here, really?”

  Alice was back in her chair with her French terry robe on. “I invited him,” she said. “Hello, Milo. I’m guessing you have a special delivery for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Would you like to meet her now?”

  What? Her? Cara and Bree exchanged a glance. Her?

  Milo went over to his bike and carefully took a small dog from the carrier attached to the back.

  “This,” he said in a voice filled with pride, “is Bella.”

  No one moved. The only sound was an old Eddie Vedder song on the stereo, drifting through the stunned silence as everyone stared. Milo set down the dog, patted his leg and walked over to Alice. The little dog trotted amiably at his side. Bella then focused on Alice, sat directly in front of the wheelchair and waited with her long, floppy ears at attention like a pair of ponytails.

  Like everyone else present, Cara simply gaped in astonishment. Milo Waxman had brought Alice a dog.

  And not just any dog, but a ridiculously cute little dachshund, with startling blue eyes, a smooth brown-and-white coat and speckled highlights at her eyebrows, chest and knees.

  A dog. Had Alice actually requested this, or was Milo feeling foolishly brave?

  Ruby stepped discreetly behind Mom. She had always been pathologically afraid of dogs. Even supercute ones, like the shiny little dachshund.

  “Hello, Bella,” Alice said, her voice uncharacteristically soft and warm. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The dog shuffled her front paws on the grass and made a little sound in her throat.

  “She’ll sit on your lap when you invite her,” Milo explained. “The command is ‘up.’”

  “Bella, up,” said Alice.

  Without a single beat of hesitation, the dog leaped up and landed light-footed in Alice’s lap. Alice looked at the dog. The dog gave her chin a single lick.

  Cara was shocked to see tears forming in Alice’s eyes. Just for a moment the dragon lady disappeared behind the loveliest emotion Cara had ever seen on Alice’s face.

  “She’s wonderful,” Alice softly declared. “Thank you, Milo. I have a feeling that she and I are going to get along just fine.”

  Mom stepped forward and dabbed Alice’s cheeks with a towel, sensing probably correctly that Alice was embarrassed about her emotional display.

  “What a fantastic idea,” Mom said. “Is she a service dog?”

  “That’s right,” said Milo. “She’s trained as a therapy dog, a companion dog and an assistance dog.” He beamed proudly at Bella.

  Slinging a towel around his shoulders, Mason moved forward and offered his hand to the dog. “That’s great, Mom,” he said. He grinned ridiculously at the floppy-eared dachshund. “But seriously, a wiener dog?”

  “Don’t let her size fool you,” said Milo. “She’s really nimble, and smart, too. I’ve been training with her for six months—obedience and service tasks. ADA law states that a service dog can’t ride in carts or be carried, so Bella isn’t certified in that area, but she’s in compliance. You’re going to be amazed at what she can do.”

  “Like what?” asked Ruby, peeking out from behind Mom.

  “She’s mastered fifty tasks,” Milo announced, as proud as a new papa handing out cigars. “All are meant to help someone like Mrs. B with daily living needs, safety issues and companionship.” He turned to Alice. “Like, if your arm falls off the armrest and you can’t get it back on, she’ll put it there for you. Or if you lose your covers at night, Bella will cover you back up. She can bring a phone and pick up dropped objects, including something as small as a penny in a corner. And she can dial 911.”

  “No way,” said Cara.

  “Way. And that’s just a start. You’ll see. Trust me, she’s got mad skills.”

  In that moment the expression on Milo’s face made him a hundred times better-looking than Leighton Hayes.

  “You did a wonderful job,” said Alice. “I’m delighted that you found me a dog so quickly.”

  Ruby kept staring. “Tell us some other stuff, Milo.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to make some adaptations around the house. If there are tug straps on doors and cupboards, she can open them, unload a dryer and bring clothes or a bag of medications, tug off Mrs. B’s shoes and socks. She has some computer skills, too. She even knows how to get a snack from the fridge and open a beer.”

  “No kidding,” said Mason, looking as amazed as everyone else. “In that case, I know several ex-girlfriends I’d like to refer to you.”

  “Don’t be cheeky, Mason,” said Alice. She turned her chair toward Ruby, who was still keeping her distance.

  “Ruby, come and take a look at Bella.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I realize that. But you can still come over here and take a look.”

  “A bad dog bit me when I was little. I still have a scar.” She stuck out her skinny white leg to show a small, fading scar on her shin.

  “That was unfortunate. Now, do you remember what I used to say to my kids when they were small?”

  “Fear makes the wolf bigger.”

  “Yes. And Bella’s nothing like a wolf. She’s not and never has been a bad dog.”

  “Actually, she was, as a puppy,” Milo said.

  “That’s not helpful.” Alice scowled at him.

  “Just saying. Bella was abused as a puppy. Her first five months of life were spent locked in a bathroom at an apartment complex. The neighbors called animal welfare and they found her starving and being kicked around by some guy. Dr. Shepherd, the vet, said she was so malnourished that her bones might not grow normally, but we gave her a chance at PAWS, and she’s totally healthy and ready to work.”

  “You see,” Alice said to Ruby. “Bella has been trained, and now she’s very affectionate.”

  At the sound of her name, the dog whipped her tail and perked up her ponytail ears.

  “But what if she doesn’t like me? Shelley Romano says a dog can smell fear.”

  “Remember how you went in the water?”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “You mean like, ten minutes ago? Yes, I remember that.”

  “You were afraid, but you trusted Donno and you did it anyway. Now I’m asking you to trust Bella.”

  “Okay.” She looked up at Donno. “Come with me.”

  “Sure thing, Ruby Tuesday.”

  She clung to his hand and edged toward the dog. “Did you name her Bella?” she asked Milo.

  “Nope, the president of PAWS named her Miss Bella Ballou. Now that you’re the owner,” he said to Alice, “you can name her anything you want.”

  “Bella is the perfect name for her. Do you know what the name Bella means?” Alice asked Ruby.

  “It means beautiful in Italian, like the Bella Luna pizza place in town,” Ruby stated with authority.

  “That’s right. Do you think Bella is the right name for this little one?”

  Ruby looked at Mom and then at Alice, and then let go of Donno’s hand. She took a deep breath, stepped forward
and held out her arm, holding her hand palm up. Bella gave it a polite sniff and then a quick lick with her tongue.

  “I absolutely do,” said Ruby.

  19

  “This has been some kind of day,” said Mason, handing Faith a glass of wine. He’d found a bottle of sparkling blanc de noir chilling in the fridge. He’d practically had to arm wrestle Wayan for it. The chef had incredible taste in wine, but he protected the collection as if it were the crown jewels.

  “Thanks,” she said with a fleeting smile. “It’s showing no signs of slowing down. I don’t know if I will ever get Ruby to bed tonight.”

  They were sitting together on a peeled birch bench on the lawn facing the lake. The frogs had just started their nightly chorus, and fireflies glimmered in the bushes down by the water’s edge. Below them, at the water’s edge, golden flames danced upward from the fire pit. Around the fire, his mother, Milo and the new dog, Cara and her friend were swapping stories, roasting hot dogs and corn on the cob, and watching the sun go down.

  “A toast,” he said.

  She smiled, touching the rim of her glass to his. “To what?”

  “You pick.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said with a laugh. “To the end of school. To Alice and Ruby swimming in the lake. To Bella, the world’s cutest service dog.”

  He liked the sound of her laughter and the way her face softened when she talked about her girls. “Sure, let’s drink to all that.”

  She tasted the blanc de noir. “Wow.” The expression on her face changed to a look of complete gratification. It was the kind of look every guy wanted to see on a woman’s face when they were having really great sex.

  He pulled his mind away from the thought. “Good, huh?”

  “Yes. Is this champagne?”

  “Nope. Blanc de noir. It means white from black—a white wine made from dark grapes. If you press red grapes and then take away the skins, you end up with white wine. So this, which I practically had to arm wrestle Wayan for, is a sparkling wine made from Pinot Noir grapes.”

  She tasted it again. “I love it. Seems a bit fancy for a picnic by the lake, though. Shall we take a glass down to your mom?”

  “In a minute,” he said. “There’s news.”

  She frowned. “What kind of news?”

  “After the gym the other day, I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. You know, about leaving no stone unturned. I took your advice and made a call to Katia Hamini. I tracked her down for a Skype call. She spoke to me from a trauma center in Amman, but she’s got a trip to New York on the calendar. In her line of work, she sees spinal cord injuries all the time. She told me about peripheral nerve restoration. Have you heard of it?”

  “No. I know there’s the brain and spinal cord—the central nervous system. And then there’s everything else—the peripheral system. Those nerves can heal and regenerate if they’re injured.” Faith’s eyes grew brighter. He wondered if she had any idea how he felt when she leaned in closer, her eyes bright and her lips moist with sparkling wine, seemingly enraptured by the conversation. “Does your friend think she can help Alice?”

  “I described my mother’s case, and Katia brought up a procedure called nerve detour surgery. It sounds far-fetched, but it’s been done.” He pulled out his phone and checked his notes. Not only had he recorded the call with Katia, he’d written down the main points. “Sorry, I didn’t trust myself to remember all this. The technique involves rerouting peripheral nerves in the arm, creating a detour so they attach to the spinal cord above the injury.” He put down the phone and set aside her wineglass. “Hold out your arm.”

  She complied, and he could feel her pulse flutter beneath his fingers. “There’s a nerve here—” he traced a finger from her hand up along her arm “—that can be rerouted. The very first time it was tried, it restored function in the patient’s hand.” He looked up at Faith. “You have goose bumps.”

  She took her hand away. “It’s exciting,” she said. “The possibility for your mother, I mean. And the outcome is that she’ll get some hand function back?”

  “Yep.”

  “Mason, that’s wonderful. So what’s the next step?”

  “Katia once worked with a peripheral nerve surgeon named Dr. Cross. He works at New York Presbyterian down in the city, and when Katia described my mom’s case, he was optimistic. There’s a whole team reviewing her records, and she’ll need to undergo further tests, but it’s looking good for my mother.”

  “Wow. Have you told her yet?”

  “Let’s tell her tomorrow. I have a feeling she’s going to be exhausted after today.”

  Ruby came speeding up the hill from the fire pit, Bella leaping along at her side. The kid had very quickly gotten over her worries about the dog. No surprise, thought Mason. The little service dog was as impossible to resist as Ruby herself. The kid was still wearing her swimsuit, her bare feet and knobby knees grass-stained from playing with the dog.

  “I made you something,” she announced, setting a paper plate on the peeled birch bench where they were sitting. “Voilà. S’mores. I made them myself.”

  “Oh, man,” said Mason. “My favorite.”

  “I said she could have one tonight because she did such a good job swimming today.”

  “She did do a good job,” he said. He was beginning to understand Faith’s vigilance when it came to Ruby’s sugar intake. He took a big bite of the gooey concoction, savoring the ridiculously sweet, charred marshmallow and chocolate. “That’s delicious, Ruby Tuesday. Thanks.”

  Faith nibbled at hers. “Wonderful, kiddo.”

  Ruby beamed. “Okay, Bella and I are going back to Alice. Already, Bella doesn’t like to get too far away from her. She’s very devoted.” She took off, the little dog trotting at her heels.

  Faith’s face was soft with love as she watched them go. “Did you know your mother was planning to adopt a service dog?” she asked, then took another bite of the s’more.

  “What? Uh, no.” Mason had been distracted by a small drip of melted marshmallow at the corner of her mouth. If he was being truthful with himself, he had to admit he’d been distracted by her all day. Trying not to stare at her when she’d stripped down to her bathing suit had become a herculean task.

  She looked incredible in a swimsuit. From the first day he’d met her—covered in a stranger’s blood, yelling orders at Mason—he had known she was a woman who downplayed her looks. But the swimsuit confirmed his suspicions. Her long, lean legs and taut abs were on full display, as was one of the best racks he’d ever seen on a woman—anywhere.

  This was problematic. He was in a relationship with Regina. Unlike his late lamented father, Mason was not about to betray a commitment he’d made.

  He remembered something Faith had asked him, that first night she’d moved in to take over his mother’s care. Where does your mind go when it wanders? He had not been able to answer that challenge that night, or perhaps he’d been unwilling to.

  Since he had moved to Avalon, his mind had definitely been wandering. And not just to Faith and her big gray eyes and gentle smile.

  The sound of voices and laughter wafted up from the lake. Just that sound, the sweetness and simplicity of it, reminded him that a different kind of life was possible—living in a quiet place, kids and dogs... There was a part of him that liked it far more than he’d anticipated, this feeling of family and belonging. Being here caused him to think about things in a new way, even to think about a kind of life he’d never considered before.

  It wasn’t real, of course, but in this moment, it seemed very real.

  “So how do you feel about it?” Faith asked.

  “What? Oh, the dog? I think it’s terrific. In fact, I’m sorry I didn’t think of it myself.”

  “You can’t think of
everything.” She finished her s’more and methodically licked her fingers, one by one.

  He nearly groaned aloud. That mouth.

  “Hold still,” he said.

  “What?”

  He reached out with his thumb to brush a bit of melted marshmallow from the corner of her mouth. And with every single cell of his body, he wanted to taste her there.

  She gave a soft gasp, then smiled a little, looking flustered. “Messy dessert,” she said.

  “I don’t mind messy things,” he said.

  She seemed to be staring at his lips. If he just leaned forward six more inches, he would be kissing her. The expression on her face suggested she was reading his mind.

  “Mason...”

  “Hey, let’s go pour a glass for my mom.”

  “Oh! Of course. Um, I’ll run inside for another champagne flute.”

  As soon as she left, he snatched up his phone and sent a text message to Regina.

  We need to talk. Can you come up this weekend?

  * * *

  Faith wondered if Mason Bellamy had almost kissed her, or if that had simply been wishful thinking on her part. Yes, she told herself—repeatedly. The almost-kiss had never happened. Surely she’d imagined that moment of vitality and budding intimacy.

  By the following weekend, she knew for certain that this was the case, because Regina came up to visit on the Friday night train. And her arrival—a stylish whirlwind, pulling gifts out of a Birkin bag like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat—was a stark reminder that Mason Bellamy could not possibly view Faith as anything but his mother’s caregiver. A guy like that had a type. And the type was embodied by Regina Jeffries—beautiful and poised, groomed to the last millimeter of her ombré-polished fingernails. She was educated and charming and a pleasure to be around. Even Faith liked being around the woman, which was great, because trying to compete with her would be an exercise in futility.