She played right into my trap. "Oh, yes. Blackie is very attached to me. Sadly, I was out for training the day the staff sent the email asking for a new place to situate him, and I only found out later they'd accidentally left my name off the list." She tried in vain to peer over my shoulder to the dog, then gave up and looked at me beseechingly. "I would've dropped everything to pick up my big sweet poochie poo."
When I didn't respond, she fumbled at her purse, withdrawing a checkbook. "I'm happy to take him off your hands, and I'll pay you extra for the expenses you've had," she said, beaming a tragic—and definitely false—smile at me.
I could feel my face freeze. "I'm not sure what game you're playing here, Miss Givens, but Coal here has been legally adopted." I emphasized his real name so she'd have no doubt I saw through her ruse. "He's not for sale. I'm sorry this was a waste of your morning." I slowly and firmly shut the door in her face.
I peered out the kitchen window to make sure she'd left, then I filled a kettle to make my morning tea. Coal trotted along behind me, so I refilled his water dish. Katie Givens wanted her hands on my dog for some nefarious purpose, I was sure of it.
Petting Coal's sleek forehead, I murmured, "Don't you worry, boy. You're safe now."
4
The cafe was in full swing by the time I headed over at eleven. I left Coal at home on his pillow I'd brought downstairs, planning to walk him on my lunch break.
As I opened the door, Milo, who I was certain was one of the most Millennial Millennials in town, looked me up and down. His eyes looked huge behind the thin lenses of his glasses, which I was pretty sure he'd only bought for fashion purposes.
"You're on fleek, hon."
I knew he meant it as a compliment—after all, I'd finally discovered the plastic tote filled with all my good work clothes, so I was rocking my slim black jeans and a French-chic camel colored sweater. I'd swept my hair into a loose chignon. But I was his boss, and I couldn't let him set a precedent of calling me Hon.
Before I could scold him, a young golden retriever broke away from the petting area and throttled past the cafe tables, nearly toppling one. In a brief moment of discernment, he slowed as he approached the wall, giving me an opportunity to loop my fingers under his collar.
Jimmy lumbered into the room. Flattening one large hand to his chest, he pointed at the dog with his other. "That one has been giving me fits today, Miss Hatfield."
I glanced down and nearly laughed. The dog's tongue was lolling out and he actually seemed to be grinning up at me, as if he were proud of his tiny revolution.
With fresh resolve, I said a firm "No" before walking the dog back toward the petting area. "I'll take it from here, Jimmy. If he keeps tearing off like that, we might have to call the shelter."
Jimmy gave a sigh of relief. "I'll clean up and help Milo, then."
Milo looked up from spraying whipped cream on top of a drink. "Do be sure you clean up thoroughly, Jimbo."
Jimmy didn't seem to mind the nickname, or maybe he didn't hear it as he walked into the back room, but I wheeled around. "Milo, please call the employees and the bosses by their actual names. I'm Miss Hatfield and this is Jimmy. Don't forget it."
Milo's face was nothing if not dramatic, quickly shifting from an expression of surprise to disdain to one of considered approval. Milo didn't need this job—at age twenty-seven, this was actually his first job since he still lived at home with his wealthy parents. Maybe we'd made a mistake in hiring him, but Bo and I had both been impressed with his verve for marketing the cafe, which included utilizing social media apps we weren't even aware of.
He adjusted his shirt collar and actually had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, Miss Hatfield. It won't happen again." He shot me a winning smile.
Bo walked in, carrying a fresh box of supplies. He slowed and glanced around, as if picking up on the charged atmosphere. "Everything going okay?"
Milo shot a glance at my brother—more specifically, at my brother's large and straining biceps—and I hurried to put his mind at ease. "Everything's going well."
I looked down at the retriever, who had settled next to my feet as if he didn't have a care in the world, and hoped everything was going well. In my DMV job, I'd rarely exercised authority, but today it seemed to flow naturally. Maybe I was a little stronger than I gave myself credit for.
Coal couldn't get to my side fast enough when Bo and I walked in for lunch. As Bo set to work making grilled ham and cheese on sourdough, I walked Coal out to the back yard. Recalling the metal tag I'd snipped off his collar yesterday, I realized maybe that was what Katie had really wanted, not Coal himself, although Great Danes could definitely be sold for a hefty price.
I had shoved the tag into my jeans pocket, I remembered. After urging Coal to hurry up with his business, we rushed inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, I charged up to my room and yanked the jeans out of my laundry basket. Sure enough, the tag was still in the pocket.
I tried to head back down, but Coal sat on the middle step, blocking me. I'd left the poor dog in the dust on my way upstairs, but now he wasn't about to let me get away.
"C'mon, boy," I said, edging around him. He tried to keep a respectful distance behind me as we made our way down, although he tripped and plowed into me as he missed the last step.
"Ouch!" I shouted, hitting the floor with my knees.
"Sis?" Bo yelled. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." I scrambled to my feet and walked down the hallway, grabbing my keychain from the transferware dish where I'd dropped it. I took it to the hall closet and turned on the flashlight on my phone. Getting down on the wooden closet floor, which caused Coal no end of consternation as he tried to divine my intentions, I leaned back, pushing at the back wall with both my feet. It gave, and a small, hidden panel opened, revealing my safe box. Moving Coal's wet nose from my face, I sat and opened it, dropping Coal's metal tag on top of my birth certificate, passport, and other valuable papers.
"Food's ready," Bo called. "Where are you?"
I shoved the box back into the hidden space. Coal began to whine and nudged into my hand, which made me drop my phone with the light down. After groping for the hidden panel, my fingers hit the edge of the small door, so I used my upper body to jam it closed.
"Sis?" Bo didn't like to be kept waiting when he made the effort to cook for me.
"Coming," I sing-songed, shushing Coal as I shut the main closet door.
Bo peered down the hallway at me. "What're you doing in there?"
I considered explaining the possible connection with Katie's visit and my consequent desire to hide Coal's tag, but that story would keep for now. As a child, I had let my imagination run wild, and I didn't want Bo thinking I was seeing things.
Though truth be told, I felt like my imagination had died the moment my ex's lies were revealed.
"Nothing important," I said, ambling over to the kitchen table. Bo situated an attractive plate in front of me. He had garnished the golden-toasted sandwich with a crisp pickle wedge, then added a bag of my favorite chips on the side.