Dachshund Through the Snow Page 7

  Agnes couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe or think or speak, either.

  Gloria Anderson had no such problem, humming as she walked to the dresser to look at herself in the mirror, patting her hair, then she pointed to the money, a diamond flashing on her hand. “My, he’s a good tipper for the help, though.”

  Heat roiled through her. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “He’s been very…generous.”

  The woman turned and eyed her sharply, her gaze once again sliding over the maid’s uniform. “Well, I’ll just go wait downstairs. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  Agnes just nodded, standing stone-still with her broken heart and toilet brush.

  As soon as Gloria Anderson’s footsteps faded, she packed her bags and left through the back door of the hotel, not even bothering to take off the uniform.

  Her only consolation was that the money was still on the dresser.

  Chapter Nine

  Holding the gift certificate carefully so it didn’t get bent, Pru marched through the streets of Bitter Bark at a much faster clip than she had with two octogenarians and a couple of dogs all day. Still, she had to admit, the adventure had been fun.

  But it was late in the afternoon, and this had to be the very last errand before they could get Yiayia’s dog.

  She pushed open the door of the butcher shop just as Bob emerged from the back, holding his prized ham. “Here you go, ladies. Christmas glazed ham for the big Kilcannon and Mahoney…” He smiled at Yiayia, who, along with Gramma Finnie, pushed up to a stand. “And Santorini feast tonight. Merry, merry Christmas to all at Waterford Farm.”

  Both women were a little flushed, Pru noticed, and Gramma’s eyes looked as glazed as the ham. Had she been crying? Had these two old besties had a fight like Pru and Teagan? She felt her heart drop at the thought, anxious to make them laugh again.

  She waved the envelope at the butcher. “And you can stuff your wife’s stocking tonight, Bob!”

  Yiayia and Gramma looked at each other and snickered, thank goodness, so Pru gave Yiayia’s arm a playful jab. “Clean up your minds, you two.”

  Bob cracked up, too, though he’d turned the same color as his holiday ham, all the way up to his bald crown. With some hugs and more holiday good wishes, the three of them stepped out to the sidewalk, noticing the sky had grown dark with even more snow threatening, and the temperature had dropped.

  “Goodness, it’s getting late,” Gramma said, looking at her watch. “We only have about an hour and a half until we have to be dressed in our costumes and in place at the festival.”

  “We can make it,” Pru said, getting behind them and putting a hand on their backs with the tiniest amount of pressure. “First, we take the ham to Mom, then we take her signed permission slip to Melvin at church, then we take the ticket he gives us to Rad, get our dachshund, and we’re done! After that, I’ll snag baby Danny, assuming he’s at Uncle Liam’s house by now, and take him to church for the play, and you two dress up and head to the square. Sound like a plan?”

  In front of her, the two women shared a quick look and silently communicated something Pru could not begin to understand.

  “You two are okay, right?” she asked, a tendril of worry curling through her. “Because I can take a lot of things today, but not a tiff between my favorite two grannies in the world.”

  “We’re fine, lass.” Gramma reached back and put her hand on Pru’s shoulder, inching her forward so she could walk between them. “We had a good talk and figured out all the things in life.”

  Pru sighed with relief. “Like what? My things in life could use some figuring out.”

  “Sorry, Pru,” Yiayia said quickly. “What we discussed is between your great-grandmother and me.”

  “Did I miss more of your story?”

  They shared another look, then Gramma shook her head. “Not a bit,” she said. “We just rested our weary bones in there. Was Danielle working at the salon? She does such a nice job with my hair.”

  Pru recognized a subject change when she heard one. And what her little Irish grandmother called a whitie—a small lie meant to protect a loved one. So she backed off, because whatever had happened when Yiayia ran away, it was clear that telling Gramma more of the story had upset her.

  “Danielle was out, and they were closing. Looks like all Bitter Bark businesses are shutting down early for Christmas Eve,” Pru noted as they turned the corner to Mom’s office.

  Yiayia threw her a look, her eyes soft. “You’re a good girl, Prudence,” she said softly.

  Pru smiled. “Thanks, Yiayia. Did you ever notice that when you want someone to know how much you love them, or you really want to drive home a point, you use their full name?”

  “Do I?”

  “Yup.” Pru nodded. “You call Cassie ‘Cassandra’ and Alex ‘Alexander’ and John ‘Yianni’ with that pretty Greek accent.”

  Yiayia tipped her head. “I do that? I never realized it.”

  “And then you want to make food for them,” she added. “You love in your own special way, Yiayia. It’s very nice.”

  The older woman blinked, obviously fighting a tear. “Why, Prudence, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me since…” She glanced at Gramma and gave a soft laugh. “Well, since ten minutes ago when your grandmother wrapped me up in her own kind of love.”

  Pru grinned at them, fully relieved that they’d made up. “Well, if you have any advice for how I can wrap up my ex-hopefully-not-forever best friend next time I see her, let me in on the secret.”

  As they reached the vet office, Mom opened the door, her arms outstretched…for the ham.

  “You got it!” she exclaimed.

  “We sure did,” Pru said, planting a kiss on her mother’s cheek as she handed her the precious ham. “Did you sign a permission slip for the church to use baby Danny during the manger scene tonight?”

  “I did.” She waved them into the front office and grabbed a piece of paper from the reception desk. “My vet tech is running late, and I just can’t leave Sprinkles yet. But Liam and Andi are home, and the baby had a huge nap in the car, so hopefully he won’t be a cranky Jesus.”

  “That’s great,” Pru said. “But are you going to make it to Christmas Eve dinner, gifts, and Midnight Mass?”

  “Midnight Mass might be a stretch with a four-month-old, but I doubt any of the babies will be going this year. I’ll make the rest. Remember, you are in charge of your brother at that church, Pru,” she added with a quick point of her finger. “I expect him to be treated like he really is the Savior of the world.”

  “I planned on it, Mom, and I promise you I’ll never let him out of my sight, and the minute the end of act one curtain comes down on the shepherds, I’ll get him out of there. Will you still be here?”

  “I should be, but I hope Cara Lee will arrive by seven, at the latest.”

  “That’s when we’ll be done playing Santa and Mrs. Claus,” Gramma said.

  “Santa?” Mom looked at Yiayia. “You?”

  “It’s my own personal Christmas miracle.”

  Mom snorted a laugh. “Well, then I’ll have Trace take this ham to Waterford early, and I’ll drive you three, the baby, and the dogs to Waterford.” She blew out an exaggerated sigh. “It all works out.”

  “Except there will be three dogs, Molly.” Yiayia gave a big smile. “We’re going to get my newest right after we drop this paper off at the church.”

  Mom laughed. “We can handle three dogs. Off you go, I have to check on Sprinkles.”

  With another quick kiss, they said goodbye and headed straight to First Baptist of Bitter Bark.

  This close to the performance, the church was much busier than it had been a few hours ago. Actors in costumes and makeup, no doubt from a dress rehearsal, bustled around. Mary and an angel sipped coffee on a bench in the entryway, while King Herod paced and recited his lines. Some of the choir, in long red robes, huddled together, warming up, and a couple of wisemen sat in the
back row of the sanctuary, playing cards.

  “Have you seen Melvin Jankewicz?” Pru asked one of them as their eyes adjusted to the dim light.

  “Backstage,” one said, pointing. “Go at your own risk. He’s so worried about not having a real baby Jesus that he’s probably said a few words never uttered in this place before.”

  “Oh, I bet they’ve been uttered,” Gramma said in a stage whisper, cracking them all up.

  “He’ll be singing praise music soon,” Pru assured them, waving her permission slip. “I have his baby.”

  The wisemen let out a soft cheer as the three of them headed toward the stage and followed the booming voice of the set director until they found him. His eyes lit at the sight of them.

  “Please tell my you’ve got a baby.”

  “Here’s my mother’s permission slip. I’ll go get him right now and bring him over…” She paused for effect and let Yiayia finish.

  “For a ticket, sir.”

  “Absolutely!” He reached into his pocket and plucked out his wallet, extracting a ticket. “Second row, middle of the stage.”

  They all cheered, hugged, and headed out, waving the ticket in victory as they left.

  “You can go get Danny, lass,” Gramma said. “We’ll take the ticket to Rad Shepherd.”

  “I have time to go with you,” Pru said. “After all this, do you think I’m going to miss the moment Yiayia wraps her arms around her new baby and pronounces him Charis? Maybe she’ll even tell us why.”

  Yiayia pointedly ignored that suggestion and hustled them all toward Rad’s house, the three of them walking as fast as possible, considering the snow had started to fall again. The dogs weren’t fazed, though, trotting with purpose after their short rest and delicious snack at Bob’s. And they seemed to pick up the fact that something exciting was about to happen.

  They turned the corner on Rad’s street, admiring some Christmas lights that were coming on with the dimming late afternoon light. The snow danced around them and the lights as the dogs led them.

  “They’re like our own little reindeers,” Pru joked.

  “Dachshund through the snow,” Gramma sang out, making them all laugh.

  “On a two-dog open sleigh,” Yiayia added to the tune.

  “Over roads we go, laughing all the way!” With howls and hoots and tingly holiday joy, they sang their version of “Jingle Bells” all the way down the street, arm in arm, as happy as Pru had felt all day.

  They finished with a flourish as they reached Rad’s front door, ringing the bell and giggling like three little kids.

  But this time…no sweet dog barked at the sound of the doorbell. In fact, they stood for a good thirty seconds of silence before the first wisp of worry wended its way through Pru.

  “Maybe he’s in the back,” she suggested.

  “Or taking the dog for a wee bit of air,” Gramma added.

  But Yiayia’s face hardened, and her eyes narrowed, and her jaw set in that way Pru just knew preceded something cold and nasty. “Maybe he just blew us off.”

  “Why would he do that, Agnes?”

  “Who knows why men do anything? They can’t be trusted.” She breathed so hard, a puff of white air surrounded her nostrils. “I should have known.”

  “Agnes, please. We don’t—”

  Just then, a car pulled into the driveway, and all three of them turned with hope and relief.

  Rad opened the driver’s door and scowled, his frown a mix of disbelief and concern.

  “Uh, you came back?”

  “Of course we came back.” Yiayia’s voice rose. “With the ticket. Where’s my dog?”

  He huffed softly and closed the car door, walking closer. “I sold him, ma’am.”

  “What?” That came from all three of them, followed by Pyggie’s loud bark.

  “I’m sorry…I…” He reached them and looked sheepishly from one to the other. “When you didn’t come back, I figured you didn’t get a ticket. This nice young couple stopped me in the square and started asking about him, and it turned out the guy had just been given a ticket he couldn’t use and…” His voice trailed off as all of them—including the dogs—stared at him.

  “Well, I guess you can play Judas in the Easter play,” Yiayia snapped, stepping away.

  “Agnes,” Gramma whispered, but her familiar warning held little bite.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. That dog damn near ate Ralphie. I had to get rid of him, and you guys took forever. You’ll find another dog, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Gramma said, walking after Yiayia to console her.

  “Did you get the name of the couple who got the dog?” Pru asked with one last desperate shred of hope.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t even ask, sorry.”

  On a sigh when she realized the adventure had ended, Pru said goodbye and tugged the leashes to catch up with Gramma and Yiayia.

  “I’m so sorry, Yiayia.”

  She just shook her head, silent.

  “There will be other dogs,” Gramma Finnie said. “Garrett is still looking for that perfect doxie for you, and if anyone can find a dog, it’s my grandson.”

  She sniffed, obviously fighting tears. “It wasn’t meant to be,” she said. “My Charis…I’ll never get it because I don’t deserve it.”

  It? Why would she call a dog it?

  “Hush, Agnes.” Gramma Finnie put her arm around her. “You go on to Liam’s, lass,” she said to Pru. “Dog or no dog, you’ve committed to bring baby Jesus. Agnes and I will go get dressed, and I’m sure handing out some gifts to children will take her mind off the blues.”

  Yiayia sighed, her disappointment palpable. Pru didn’t understand why this dog mattered so very much, but her heart broke for the old lady who certainly wasn’t getting what she wanted for Christmas.

  She stood in the snow and watched them walk away, their heads close.

  “Thanks for not telling Pru what I shared at the butcher shop,” she heard Yiayia say.

  “’Tis nothin’ she needs to know, my friend. But I need to know the rest, and right this very minute, too.”

  Pru’s jaw dropped as their voices faded when they turned the corner. As much as she wanted to run after them and demand to hear the story, she knew some secrets were supposed to be between best friends.

  If only she had one.

  Chapter Ten

  No journey had ever seemed so long, exhausting, or painful as the one from Philadelphia to Astoria. The buses were filthy and sour-smelling, the subway broke down twice, and when Agnes finally got to Ditmars Boulevard, she simply didn’t have the strength to walk the last few blocks in the pouring rain. She never did get a proper coat—another thing Norman had promised, but didn’t deliver—so she stood under the overhang of Astoria Florist in the very spot where she used to wait for him to pick her up in his big red Fairlane.

  Was he driving his wife in it now?

  A fresh onslaught of tears threatened as a gray panel truck with the florist logo on the side pulled up fast enough to send a rooster tail of rainwater from the gutter all over her once-crisp navy maid’s uniform.

  Instantly, the truck pulled over, and the driver jumped out.

  “Sorry!” he called. “I am so sorry, miss.” The rolled R of a Greek accent was common enough in Astoria, which had the largest Greek population in all of New York, but this man was anything but common. Tall and dark with narrow but sturdy-looking shoulders, he strode toward her with no regard for the rain and only concern on his handsome features. “My…not good. My not good.”

  She managed a smile. “It’s fine,” she said. “Worse things have happened to me today.”

  “Inside?” He pointed to the door. “So you no get…” He turned that finger toward the open skies. “Sat…satur…”

  “Saturated,” she supplied, her gaze dropping to the badge pinned to his uniform shirt. Nik. The most common of all Greek names, but not with that spelling. “I don’t want to go inside. I’m not buying anythi
ng. I’m…waiting for…” The nerve to face a family who hates me. “Someone.”

  “You no buy,” he said, pulling the door open. “I work. You dry.”

  She searched his face—his kind eyes, and sweet smile and guileless warmth—and fought another sob. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him instead of—

  “Come,” he said. “Inside.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, stepping into the tiny storefront, instantly surrounded by the rich scent of roses and lilies and freshly cut greens. “Thank you.”

  “Tipota.” He gave his head a quick, hard shake. “I mean…you are…”

  “Welcome,” she said, squeezing some water from her hair. “Recent arrival?”

  He frowned and shook his head.

  “Did you just get here?” she asked, enunciating each word.

  “One month,” he said. “From Santorini.”

  It took a second, but then the name hit her heart. Nik. From Santorini.

  Oh God, could You be any more cruel to me today? “That’s nice,” she muttered.

  He pointed to the back. “I go make the flowers.” He bunched his hands together to indicate a bouquet. “You wait or…come?”

  She just stared at him, hearing her mother’s words. He’s very handsome, Agnes.

  That was an understatement. And Mama forgot to mention he was sweet and…kind. “I should…go.”

  “You wait for someone.” He pointed to the window that divided the front desk from a florist workspace in the back. “We see your someone. You go then. Now, help me.” He angled his head and gave a smile that slid through her heart and curled her toes. “I am not good at the…boo…”

  “Bouquets.”

  He laughed. “I should know bouquets.”

  “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s French, not English.” On a sigh that communicated just how much she regretted every decision she’d made in the last month, she followed him through the swinging door to a small room with a refrigerated wall full of fresh-cut flowers. He got her a small stool and a dry towel and set her up so she could look straight through the front glass of the store to see someone…who didn’t exist.