Page 123 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“Thinking loudly.”

I shrug. “Kids don’t become better because an adult gives one good speech. They need somewhere to go. People who show up. Rules that make sense. Consequences that teach instead of humiliate.”

Principal Whitcomb nods. “That’s exactly the perspective we’d love at the dinner. People are going to love you.”

Right.

The dinner, and the appearances. The job.

Before I can answer, Puck barks from somewhere near the tasting room, and Lorna yells, “He has a donut.”

I move before anyone else does.

Daisy’s head snaps up. “Puck, leave it!”

My dog tears across the grass with a cider donut and the joy of a criminal who has accepted his sentence.

Evan laughs.

Daisy points at me. “Your son is embarrassing us.”

“I told you he needed boundaries.”

“He has boundaries. They’re conceptual.”

I whistle once. “Puck.”

Puck stops.

Looks at me.

Looks at the donut.

We both know how this ends.

“Drop it.”

He drops it, glares at me, and stalks away like I have committed an unforgivable social offense.

Daisy closes her eyes. “That dog has no respect for authority.”

“You’re the one who spoils him.”

“I respect his cultural needs.”

“Cider donuts are not culture.”

“They’re regional heritage.”

“He doesn’t get regional heritage if it sends him to the vet.”

She huffs. “Fine. I’ll be more mindful.”

“Finally, we meet in the middle.”

“Don’t sound so proud. It’s unattractive.”

“It’s working for me so far.”