An Unexpected Grace by Kristin von Kreisler Page A

never have taken the job if you and Rosie couldn’t join him. You’re giving him a gift,” Lila said.
    â€œI don’t want to go to D.C. It’s not fair to disrupt my life. Rosie’s, too.” Cristina got up, scraped wilted lettuce leaves off her plate into the garbage disposal, and disappeared into the garage.
    Lila believed Cristina was not so opposed to leaving as she seemed. The stress of packing made her cross. And her grumpiness was a good sign, really, because it meant she believed Lila was healing. Since Lila had been shot, Cristina had held back anything that might cause distress. Seeing her be herself again, cranky or not, was a relief.
    At the table, Rosie, in robin’s-egg-blue coveralls, was humming “Three Blind Mice” and shoving her meatloaf around her green beans.
    â€œGerald would want you to finish dinner,” Lila coaxed. She’d set a place for Rosie’s lion at the table and served him klipspringer flank with marinated crocodile scales and giraffe-tail pudding.
    Rosie screwed up her face. A strand of dark hair, free from her ponytail, fell into her eyes. “Can’t I feed my meatloaf to Gerald? He’s still hungry.”
    â€œHe told me he’s allergic to meatloaf. It makes him break out in a rash.”
    Rosie looked so disappointed that Lila would have crossed the kitchen and kissed the top of her head if Grace weren’t hunched under the table like a bird of prey, waiting for treats to fall to the floor. Though persnickety about her own food, her quest for Rosie’s was relentless. At breakfast Grace hung around for Cheerios that Rosie dropped, and at lunch Grace waited for bits of sandwich, which she grabbed with a snap of teeth. Aware of the dog’s location, Lila used the kitchen island as a barricade. Thank goodness someone would pick up that dog tonight and Lila would never have to worry about her again.
    When Rosie rested her cheek on the table, Lila gave in. “Okay, you can go.”
    Rosie clapped her hands and jumped down from the chair just as someone knocked at the front door. Involuntarily, Lila flinched—Dr. Lovell had been right that she was edgy. When she went to the entry hall, she expected to meet the unfortunate soul who would be Grace’s new owner. But smiling and waving from behind the front door’s panes was Adam Spencer, who seemed to have forgotten that Lila had said she didn’t like dogs.
    As she opened the door, he said, “Hi.” Obviously at home in Cristina’s house, he stepped, uninvited, across the threshold.
    â€œHi,” Lila said. She noted his charcoal Dockers, light blue sweater, and damp hair, which he must have just washed. Wavy and thick, it was parted on the side and combed back from his face. He’d probably gotten cleaned up to sit with his Irish wolfhounds at an outdoor café, Lila thought. He was holding a cellophane bag of what looked like gingersnaps, tied with a raffia bow. Maybe he’d stopped to give them to Rosie for the long drive ahead.
    She must have heard his voice because she ran to him and threw her skinny arms around his waist.
    â€œHow’s my favorite kid?” He hoisted her up over his head, and she extended her arms and legs like a helicopter propeller. As he spun her around, she shrieked with delight and her ponytail danced. He let go and caught her mid-drop, and she shrieked even harder.
    Grace appeared, whimpering at Adam as happily as she had the week before. He set Rosie down, and they fussed over Grace, who panted, her eyes half closed in ecstasy. Lila backed toward the kitchen so as not to be too close to her. When Christina called Rosie to winnow down her stuffed animals for the trip, she ran to the garage. Grace padded across the entry toward Lila.
    As she was about to step farther away, Adam said, “I want to talk with you.”
    â€œMe?” Lila said.
    â€œI need to make sure you know how to take care of