Page 69 of Puppy Kisses

“Have you given any more thought to where you want to go?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual voice. It was helped by the fact that she spied a box of paper-like objects in the far corner. Maybe Bea’s organizational system wasn’t so defunct after all. “If you don’t end up somewhere warm and exotic, I mean?”

When Bea didn’t respond right away, Dawn added, “Is there a family member you’ve been meaning to visit? Friends nearby?”

“You know what?” Bea said by way of answer. “I think Iwillkeep those rice cookers.”

Dawn’s heart sank. It would have been very easy to assume that Bea was just being contradictory, but Dawn had always been a realist. Bea had no more intention of leaving this place than Adam did of changing his mind about Gigi.

So much for moving into the neighborhood.There was going to be no farmhouse in Dawn’s future, no opportunity to buy this place for the sole purpose of holding it over Adam’s head and gloating about her victory.

Yet another door was closing right in front of her.

“You know, I’ve been doing some thinking about this Smithwood-Dearborn feud,” Dawn said as she busied herself clearing a path toward that box in the corner. Her own future might look bleak, but she still had an opportunity to make something good come out of all this.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s strange how something like that can go on for so many years. About sixty? If I did the math correctly?”

Bea grunted. She was still holding her book open, but she didn’t appear to be reading it anymore. Her free hand rested on Gigi’s neck, her fingers brushing absentmindedly over the puppy’s fur. Gigi accepted this as her due; evenBeahad more of a hold over that animal than Dawn did. “That sounds about right.”

“And you’ve lived here all that time?”

Bea’s eyes narrowed in a look of shrewd suspicion. “If you want to say something, girl, just come out and say it. Don’t use any of your animal-training tricks on me.”

Candor suited Dawn down to her last freckle. She gave up on the pursuit of the box.

“Sixty years is a long time to live in a place,” she said, frankly but—hopefully—with kindness. “And from everything I can tell, you don’t have a lot in the way of family. There are no framed photographs, no grandkids’ drawings on the fridge, no personal mementos shoved into any of these boxes. I’ve never even seen a picture of your husband.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Bea spat over her left shoulder.

“I’m hoping that means he left you, not that I’m going to stumble across his dead and decaying body somewhere in this heap.”

Bea fell into one of her signature cackles. “I wish Ihadthought to murder him, the lying bastard.” On a more sober note, she added, “He left not long after we moved in. Didn’t care for the nightlife out here. Or the fact that I was the only one in it.”

Dawn nodded. She could see how the long, wintry nights out here might wear on a person, how an unhappy marriage could fracture under the strain of so much isolation. She could also see why a woman like Bea Benson—or a man like Adam Dearborn—refused to leave. There was something about the pace of it, like stepping back in time, that soothed the soul. People talked out here. They worked together. They relied on each other.

Once upon a time, Puppy Promise had been like that. Dawn had never been happier than when she and her sisters had sat chatting about the day over cups of hot chocolate, laughingly breaking down both their training cases and their latest loves, occasionally stepping out to make sure the puppies had everything they needed. Everythingshe’dneeded was under one roof, and it had brought her a measure of peace that she hadn’t known existed.

She missed that—missed it so much that she suspected that was the true reason she was so upset at losing the last thing tying her down. It wasn’t the puppies or the job or even her sisters that had changed. It washer.

Her mind was so preoccupied with this that her next question slipped out unaware. “Bea, if you end up selling this place, do you have anywhere to go?”

As much as Bea claimed an appreciation for coming right out and saying a thing, this seemed to take her aback. Her face grew pale, and the book dropped from her fingers. It narrowly missed landing on Gigi’s head. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Now that the question was out, Dawn did what she always did—leaned into it.

“It means, do you really have any intention of selling to Adam and his family, or is this a ploy to get me to come over here and keep you company? The garden, the basement, the constant influx of baked goods… It seems to me that you don’t actually care about any of it. You just like having people around.”

Bea shot to her feet with an agility that belied her age. “Now, see here, young lady—”

“It’s okay if you do,” Dawn said. “I’m the same way. I don’t like spending a lot of time alone. I never have.”

That bald confession—the first time Dawn had ever allowed herself to say it out loud—had a calming effect on Bea. The older woman sat back down again, her knees a little wobbly, her hand braced on the banister to give her leverage.

Bea’s gaze caught hers. “I wasn’t lying about that contract,” she finally said, her tone somewhat mulish. “I really did have to sign something promising not to sell to the Dearborns.”

Dawn moved toward the stairs and took a seat on the bottom step—but not before brushing away what appeared to be more mouse droppings. “I believe you.”

“And that damned cow really did trample the yard, living it up like a trollop at her first disco. There just…wasn’t much of a garden back there. It was mostly dirt to begin with.”