“I placed the puppies fast. The mother took longer.” I paused. “She stayed four months. By the time she got adopted, there were three more dogs in the barn.”
“And now?” Abby asked.
“I've placed over thirty dogs in the past four years.”
The table went quiet for a moment.
“Actually.” I glanced toward the counter, where Frank was refilling someone's coffee. “Frank found my most recent one. Right out back.”
Frank looked up at the sound of his name, eyebrows raised.
“The puppy,” I said. “Behind the dumpster.”
Frank set the coffee pot down and walked over, tucking his dish towel into his apron. “Scared little thing. So small.” He shook his head. “Skin and bones.”
“He's doing so much better now,” I said.
Frank nodded, something satisfied crossing his face. “Good. I'm glad you're the one taking care of him.” He glanced at Rosie. “Knew Doc Sterling would do right by him. He's good with animals.”
The casual trust in his voice caught me off guard. I didn't know what to do with it, so I just nodded.
“She named him,” I said, gesturing toward Rosie.
“Pudding,” Rosie announced, grinning. “His name is Pudding, and he's the most adorable thing I've ever seen in my entire life.”
Abby leaned forward, eyes bright. “Can we see pictures?”
“I don't have any,” Rosie said.
“I do.”
The words came out before I'd made a conscious decision to say them. I pulled out my phone, opened the album I'd made without fully admitting to myself that I'd made it, and slid it across the table to Rosie.
She picked it up. Went still.
“Cal.” Her voice dropped. “Cal.”
The first photo was Pudding asleep in the dog bed I'd dragged into the kitchen, his one floppy ear covering half his face. The second was him fighting with a couch cushion. The third was him sitting in a patch of morning sun on the kitchen floor, looking profoundly pleased with himself.
Rosie pressed her hand to her mouth.
“He's been staying in the house,” I said. “He needed quiet. After the surgery.”
“He's in yourhouse.”
“It's temporary.”
Rosie turned the phone toward Abby without another word. Abby made a sound that brought the conversation at the far end of the table to a halt.
“What is it?” Emily leaned across the table to see.
“Move.” Rosie waved Emily over. “Come here, you have to see these.”
I got up. Emily slid past, and the whole booth shuffled like a slow-moving puzzle—Rosie shifting toward the window, Abby closing the gap, Evan and Nate scooting down until Emily landed beside Rosie with the phone already angled between them.
I dropped back into the end seat, now next to Nate.
Across from me, all three of them were talking at once in a register I couldn't quite follow.
