by Rachel Lacey
“Thank you,” she said, crouching beside me. “You know, we never decided who won the bet.”
“No, we didn’t.” I held the puppy on my palms, watching her breathe, but I didn’t see any signs of distress. Her nose and mouth were a nice healthy pink, and she whimpered, rolling over in my hands, paws flailing.
“Now that she’s dry, she’s actually brown, not black,” Phoebe said, leaning over my shoulder to look at the puppy, which put her way too close to me. The puppy was indeed a dark chocolate brown, with a white face.
I didn’t turn my head to look at Phoebe. “And you predicted a brown-and-white female puppy, so I’d say you won.”
“I guess that means you’re buying dinner next Friday.” She reached over to rub the puppy before I set her back in the box with Violet.
I stood, facing her. “I don’t know if dinner’s such a good idea.”
“Sure it is,” Phoebe said. “I’d really like to spend some time with you that doesn’t involve puppies, Taylor.”
I hesitated, hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans.
“Just as friends,” Phoebe insisted. “I want to be friends, don’t you?”
Well, when she put it that way… “Fine, I guess.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“I’m tired,” I deflected. “But yes, dinner next Friday. In the meantime, try to get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning to check in and see how everyone’s doing.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“Good night, Phoebe,” I said. Then I headed for the door before I lost all my common sense and succumbed to her unasked request for me to stay.
The next day, I stopped by Phoebe’s cabin on my lunch break, leaving Minnie and Blue in my office. I’d talked to Phoebe briefly that morning to confirm that everyone was doing okay. She sounded tired but didn’t have anything alarming to report. The puppies were all nursing well and gaining weight.
I walked up the steps to the front door and knocked. She pulled it open wearing a sunny yellow dress. It was a simple cotton T-shirt dress, but on Phoebe, it looked like a million bucks, emphasizing her tanned legs and the golden highlights in her hair. Yellow was definitely her color.
“How’s everyone doing?” I asked as she invited me inside.
“Good, I think.” She gave me a sheepish smile. “I guess I can stop watching the little one breathe. The vet said she looked fine.”
“That’s great news,” I said. “Have you thought about names yet?”
She shook her head. “I’m too tired today to come up with anything cute.”
“Well, let me know when you decide. I’ll put pictures of them on our blog, so that our supporters can follow along on their journey. That’ll help generate interest for when we’re ready to start accepting adoption applications for them.”
“I’ve already taken lots of pictures,” she told me. “I’ll send you some for the blog.”
“Perfect.” I followed her down the hall, where Violet and the puppies were in their whelping box. Violet’s tail began to wag when she saw me. “She’s settled in so well here with you.”
“Well, I really haven’t done much,” Phoebe said. “But I’m glad she doesn’t hate me.”
“Sorry for complicating your time in Vermont.”
“I’m not as annoyed about it as I thought I would be.” And her smile didn’t look annoyed at all. “I just don’t know what will happen to them when I go back to Boston. I don’t like feeling like I’m responsible for uprooting their lives.”
“You aren’t,” I told her. “Sometimes dogs have to switch foster homes. It happens a lot, actually. It isn’t ideal, but like I told you before, we do the best we can. It’s still better for them than being in the shelter.”
I sat in front of Violet’s pen to look at the puppies while Phoebe flopped on the bed. The pups were all sleeping at the moment, so I spent a few minutes rubbing Violet. I didn’t want her to feel left out now that her little ones had arrived.
“You know,” I said to Phoebe. “If you don’t want to uproot their lives, you could just sell me the house, and I’ll move in with Minnie and Blue, and they can all stay here until they find homes.” I was just teasing—mostly—but I also wasn’t going to give up on buying this house until the rental lockbox was on the front door and Phoebe had left town.
“Taylor…”
“Did you even tell your dad I’m interested in buying?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Will you? Please?”
“He’s not going to change his mind,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if her tone was annoyed or just resigned.
“You said he wants to keep the house in the family, but maybe that was when he thought he’d be selling to a total stranger. Your family has known mine for decades, and if I move in here, I’m not moving out. Burlington is my home, and this house is right up the street from my parents. I’d fill it with rescue dogs and live here happily ever after.”
“What about a family of your own?” she asked quietly.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d love one if I meet the right woman.”
“Tell me about her,” Phoebe said, watching me from the bed. “What do you think she’ll be like?”
I shrugged, because the image that immediately filled my brain was a petite pain in my ass with curly brown hair and eyes like melted chocolate. “Well, she’d have to be an animal lover.”
“Of course,” Phoebe agreed.
“And she’d have to love the outdoors and be happy with a simple life here in Vermont. No big-city dreams.”
“No?” she asked, watching me closely out of those chocolate eyes.
“Nope. I love it here, and I never want to leave. Vermont is in my blood.”
“Vacations?” Phoebe asked.
“I haven’t taken many of those,” I said thoughtfully. “But I’m not opposed to the idea. I might like to travel if I had someone to do it with and someone to watch my dogs.”
“I’m sure dog sitters exist around here,” she said, looking amused.
“I’m certain you’re right,” I agreed.
“Then all you need is the right woman to share your life with.”
“Hmm.” I stroked the brown-and-white-spotted puppy, who had woken and was nuzzling against Violet, looking for his next meal. “Well, I’m here ready and waiting.”
But in that moment, it was hard to imagine a woman more perfect than Phoebe, except for the fact that she didn’t live in Vermont.
17
Phoebe
I pressed my nose against a bright red rose and inhaled, intoxicated by its sweet fragrance. Violet stood beside me, nose up and sniffing as if she was enjoying my grandmother’s rosebushes too. I figured she might want a little break from being crawled over and sucked on, so we were taking a stroll around the backyard together.
Now that I’d gotten to know her a little better, I could tell when she was relaxed. Her tail went up, and she would sniff around like she was interested in her surroundings instead of just watching me like I might do something traitorous if she let her guard down. And right now, she looked awfully content. Maybe motherhood had mellowed her.
“We need to name your puppies,” I told her.
She looked up at me and wagged her tail. It had only been three days since they were born, but I was already tired of having to describe them when Taylor called for updates. “The brown one with the white blaze gained two ounces today.”
They needed names. And as I leaned in to smell another rose, I had a flash of inspiration. What if I named them after types of roses? That would be cute, and it was meaningful to my grandma.
“Let’s get you back inside and google some roses,” I said to Violet.
We went in through the back door, and she got a big drink of water. It wasn’t time for her next meal yet, but I gave her a couple of dog biscuits because she was a nursing mama and she deserved snacks, as far as I was concerned.
&
nbsp; After Violet finished crunching through her biscuits, she went down the hall like a dutiful mom, curling up in her pen to let the puppies nurse. I sat on the bed and searched types of roses on my phone. The first one that caught my eye was Blaze. That was a perfect name for the brown male puppy with the white blaze on his face.
“One down, three to go,” I said, scrolling through more photos of roses. “Oh, there’s one called Queen Elizabeth.” I looked at the brown female puppy with her one white paw, the first puppy born. She also had the loudest cry and used it often. “The monarch is always the firstborn, and you’re kind of a drama queen. We can just call you Elizabeth for short.”
Next, I eyed the white puppy with brown spots. “What about Sunsprite? We could call you Sunny. That’s masculine enough, right?”
Violet watched me, sprawled on her side while they nursed. That only left the littlest puppy, the one that had given us such a scare. She was a rich chocolate brown with a white face.
“I’ve got it,” I told her. “Cherry Parfait, and we’ll call you Cherry, because you’re little. What do you think, Violet? Do you like the names I picked?”
She thumped her tail against the dog bed.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, I’m going to take pictures of each puppy and text them to Taylor with their new names.”
I spent the next ten minutes or so doing just that, and then I sent them to Courtney and Emily too, because they were always bugging me for puppy updates. I even emailed a few pictures to my mom, who was eager to know what I was up to in Vermont and more than ready for me to come home.
While I was sending out photos, Elizabeth, Blaze, Sunny, and Cherry curled up for a nap together. Violet put her head down and closed her eyes too. Before I was tempted to join them, I went down the hall to the kitchen. I got out my laptop and booted it up to check the job listings in Boston. So far, I’d applied for a dozen or so new positions, but I hadn’t heard anything back, and I was starting to get worried.
I’d been here in Vermont for a week and a half already. I was behind on home renovations—thanks to Violet and her puppies—and I was burning through my savings at an alarming rate. But at the same time, I wasn’t ready to go back to Boston, and not just because of the dogs in my bedroom. Despite my setbacks, I felt relaxed and happy here. At the end of the week, I would play my second set at V and V, and I was going out to dinner with Taylor beforehand.
Remembering her suggestion, I typed up a message introducing myself and offering my services as a financial consultant. It wasn’t really my strong suit, but if the locals were willing to take a chance on me, it might help tide me over until I found a new full-time job.
My phone chimed with a new text message.
ADORABLE.
It was from Taylor, in response to the puppies’ names.
Thanks, I replied. Know any local Facebook groups where I could advertise my consulting services?
I’ll send you a list.
Well, that was promising. It would be a total game changer if I could find a way to cover my bills while I was here in Vermont. And since Taylor was helping me out, the least I could do was make good on my promise to her in return. I picked up my phone and dialed my dad.
“Hi, honey,” he said in lieu of hello. “How are things in Vermont?”
“A little bit crazy,” I admitted as a puppy squeal echoed down the hall. “Somehow, I got talked into fostering a mama dog and her puppies while I’m here.”
“What in the world? How did that happen?” he asked.
“You remember Taylor Donovan, right?”
“Of course,” he said. “You girls were best friends. If I had a dollar for every time I heard her name while you were growing up…”
“Right. Well, did you know she was keeping up Grandma’s yard for us? Tending the rosebushes and all that?”
“No, I didn’t,” my dad said. “That was very nice of her.”
“She and Grandma got pretty close these last few years, apparently.”
“I do remember your grandma talking about her, now that you mention it,” Dad said. “I think they walked their dogs together. But how did Taylor convince you to take in a litter of puppies?”
“She works at the shelter, and she was in a jam with this pregnant dog. Anyway, it’s just for a few weeks while I’m here.”
“Won’t they pee all over the place?” Dad asked. “I can’t rent out a cabin that smells like dog pee.”
“I’ve got the laminate flooring in now, which should help, and I’ll keep them confined in an area with pee pads if I’m still here when they get to that stage.”
He sighed. “I don’t like it. You should have talked to me about this before you agreed to it.”
I rubbed my brow. “I’m sorry, Dad. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“Is it too late to send them back?”
“Pretty sure it is,” I told him.
“Do you want me to give the shelter a call? I’m sure I could convince someone to take those dogs back.”
“No,” I said quickly. I was twenty-nine years old, for crying out loud. When was my dad going to stop trying to fight my battles? “I agreed to this, and I’m going to see it through.”
“Well, all right, but make sure they don’t ruin anything.”
“I’ll be sure. Hey, I do have something to ask you, though,” I said, remembering the reason for my call.
“Anything.”
“I know you’re pretty set on using the cabin as a rental property, but Taylor really wants to buy it. I just wanted to run it past you.”
“It’s not for sale,” my dad responded automatically, as I’d known he would.
“I know, but just think about it, will you? She really loves this place, and it’s right up the street from her parents’ house. I know Grandma would have approved.”
“You’re probably right about that,” Dad said. “But I want to keep it in the family so we can use it as a vacation home. I love that house too.”
“Just think about it, please? It would really mean a lot to Taylor to have this place. I’m sure there are plenty of other rentals in the area you could stay in for a vacation.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”
But when I ended the call a few minutes later, I didn’t feel as happy as I should. When I looked around the living room with its newly gleaming laminate floors and roses blooming outside the windows, I felt a pang of regret.
Even if my dad agreed to sell, was I really ready to say goodbye to this house? Would I regret it if my family sold the cabin to Taylor?
18
Taylor
As I walked up the steps to Phoebe’s front door on Friday evening, a funny tingle gripped my stomach. This felt uncomfortably like a date, and while I was looking forward to the chance to spend time with her and strengthen our newly rekindled friendship, I was awfully afraid these pesky sparks between us were going to be a problem before the end of the night.
I lifted my hand and knocked. From inside the house, I heard a bark and then the click of shoes on the floor as Phoebe approached the door. She opened it, wearing a knee-length purple dress and strappy black sandals. Her hair was down, and her eyes were wide.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard Violet bark,” she said. “And hi.”
“Hi,” I said. “It’s a good sign, actually. It means she feels at home here now, like this is her territory to defend from intruders at the door.”
“Oh.” Phoebe looked down at Violet, who stood beside her, wagging her tail at me.
“Hi, Violet,” I said as I stepped inside. She licked my hand when I reached out to pet her.
“I’ve already fed her, but I’m going to take her out for a quick walk before we leave,” Phoebe said. “And I’ve already checked in with Holly to make sure she’s all set. She’ll be here in about an hour. I feel like a nervous new mom getting ready to leave my kids with a babysitter for t
he first time.”
I smiled, enamored by this side of her, not to mention the enticing swell of cleavage in that dress when she bent over to fasten Violet’s leash. “They’ll be in great hands with Holly. I’m going to go see the puppies while you take her out.”
Phoebe nodded, leading Violet toward the back door. I went down the hall to the bedroom where four furry pups were piled up against one side of the whelping area, fast asleep. The mostly white one—Sunny—was suckling in his sleep, paws twitching with puppy dreams.
I sat in front of the playpen, stroking them gently as they slept. God, they were cute. I could sit here and watch them for hours. Next to the pen was the notebook Phoebe was using to document their growth. I picked it up, smiling at her neat, blockish handwriting. Not only had she recorded their weight twice a day since they were born, but she’d also created graphs for each puppy, illustrating their growth.
And as it turned out, I was a sucker for graphs, or at least I was a sucker for the woman who took the time to draw them for these tiny puppies. Each one showed a steady upward curve. They were just over a week old now and growing like weeds. Even Cherry, the littlest puppy who’d given us such a scare, seemed to be thriving.
I rubbed her, and she let out a squeak, rooting around as she looked for her mama. “She’ll be back in just a minute,” I told the puppy, even though she couldn’t hear much yet. Her ears were still folded down against her head.
The back door clanged shut, and Violet’s toenails clicked down the hall in my direction, followed by the tap of Phoebe’s heels. Violet entered the bedroom first, stopping to greet me before she climbed in with her puppies. They squealed and squirmed as they snuggled against her, little bodies flailing with the effort.
When I looked up, Phoebe was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip and a smile on her lips as she watched us. “Ready?” I asked, pressing my hands against my knees as I stood.