answered faster than she expected. “Leslie. Hi, it’s me. Happy Thanksgiving to everybody. We went to the shelter to serve meals. … Uh-huh. Everyone said hello, and Maria says thank you for the contributions. And after that, we went to the animal shelter. … Reese? No.” Her eyes flicked to him, then away. “Yeah. A sort of, uh, colleague. One of a group of colleagues,” she added quickly. “Oh, and Leslie, I haven’t told you the best part. I have a dog. I adopted Rufus from the shelter last week. He’s doing great. He’s only had one accident with his house training, and he’s terrific on the leash. He already knew sit and lie down, and he’s got stay at least 80 percent of the time, and he hardly ever barks, and never without a reason. … Yeah…. Uh-huh… Of course, I want you all to meet him as soon—”
She broke it off and her gaze came to him again. “Though it might be a while. You know with work and, uh, everything. But as soon as we can we’ll get together, for sure. … I don’t know. When you get back from Illinois we’ll talk and— Oh, I hear them saying the turkey’s ready, I’ll let you go now. Love to everybody. Hope Mr. M’s leg is better. Bye!”
She ended the call and let out a breath. “Okay. Last stop. My storage unit at the apartment.”
“You shouldn’t tell them they’ll meet me,” he said. “You shouldn’t tell them anything about this.”
She looked at him blankly for a beat then chuckled. “Not you. Rufus. I want them to meet Rufus.”
* * *
At a Lake Forest, Illinois home nearly bursting with good smells and happy voices despite its size, Leslie Craig Roberts stared out a set of French doors toward the frothing gray of Lake Michigan that could be seen beyond bare tree branches.
“Ready, Leslie?” Tris asked from the doorway, then immediately stepped into the room, “What is it? Was that April? Is something wrong? Is that why she hadn’t called back earlier?”
Leslie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes, it was April. She says everything’s fine.”
“She says,” Tris repeated, clearly understanding the significance of those words. They’d been friends before their marriages. With their husbands part of a trio of college friends, they’d become even closer over the years.
“She said she served dinner at the shelter and went to the animal shelter today with a
colleague
.”
“Not Reese?”
“Not Reese,” Leslie confirmed.
“Well, that shouldn’t break your heart. Though it does seem odd that Lois Warrington would allow it. Wasn’t her complaining about dog hair the reason April cut back her volunteering at the animal shelter?”
“Yes. And that’s something else. April’s adopted a dog. Rufus.”
Tris’ eyebrows rose. “A dog? Especially a dog named Rufus? In Lois Warrington’s house?”
Leslie smiled briefly. It was gone when she said, “Something’s going on, Tris.”
“Yes. But she’s an adult, Les. You can love and support and be available when she wants your help, but you can’t interfere.”
Leslie made a face. “You might be able to convince me of that, but if Grady gets an inkling …. Let’s keep this between us, for now, okay?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
----
There was a small fake Christmas tree lighting up a table near the hotel’s back elevator that had April “ohhhing” as soon as they came in.
He felt something like relief at the sound.
The trip to the storage unit hadn’t gone well.
At first he’d thought she was putting things in the hall in order to get at something else.
“Tell me which box you want, and I’ll get it,” he’d said.
“I want them all.”
“Why?”
“So I can put up decorations.”
“Where?”
She’d straightened, blinked. “The suite.”
He tipped his head toward the labels on two of the bigger boxes. “Tree stand? Lights? Ornaments? You can’t put up a tree in a hotel suite. They won’t allow it.”
She’d stepped into the hallway, her head down.
She broke it off and her gaze came to him again. “Though it might be a while. You know with work and, uh, everything. But as soon as we can we’ll get together, for sure. … I don’t know. When you get back from Illinois we’ll talk and— Oh, I hear them saying the turkey’s ready, I’ll let you go now. Love to everybody. Hope Mr. M’s leg is better. Bye!”
She ended the call and let out a breath. “Okay. Last stop. My storage unit at the apartment.”
“You shouldn’t tell them they’ll meet me,” he said. “You shouldn’t tell them anything about this.”
She looked at him blankly for a beat then chuckled. “Not you. Rufus. I want them to meet Rufus.”
* * *
At a Lake Forest, Illinois home nearly bursting with good smells and happy voices despite its size, Leslie Craig Roberts stared out a set of French doors toward the frothing gray of Lake Michigan that could be seen beyond bare tree branches.
“Ready, Leslie?” Tris asked from the doorway, then immediately stepped into the room, “What is it? Was that April? Is something wrong? Is that why she hadn’t called back earlier?”
Leslie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes, it was April. She says everything’s fine.”
“She says,” Tris repeated, clearly understanding the significance of those words. They’d been friends before their marriages. With their husbands part of a trio of college friends, they’d become even closer over the years.
“She said she served dinner at the shelter and went to the animal shelter today with a
colleague
.”
“Not Reese?”
“Not Reese,” Leslie confirmed.
“Well, that shouldn’t break your heart. Though it does seem odd that Lois Warrington would allow it. Wasn’t her complaining about dog hair the reason April cut back her volunteering at the animal shelter?”
“Yes. And that’s something else. April’s adopted a dog. Rufus.”
Tris’ eyebrows rose. “A dog? Especially a dog named Rufus? In Lois Warrington’s house?”
Leslie smiled briefly. It was gone when she said, “Something’s going on, Tris.”
“Yes. But she’s an adult, Les. You can love and support and be available when she wants your help, but you can’t interfere.”
Leslie made a face. “You might be able to convince me of that, but if Grady gets an inkling …. Let’s keep this between us, for now, okay?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
----
There was a small fake Christmas tree lighting up a table near the hotel’s back elevator that had April “ohhhing” as soon as they came in.
He felt something like relief at the sound.
The trip to the storage unit hadn’t gone well.
At first he’d thought she was putting things in the hall in order to get at something else.
“Tell me which box you want, and I’ll get it,” he’d said.
“I want them all.”
“Why?”
“So I can put up decorations.”
“Where?”
She’d straightened, blinked. “The suite.”
He tipped his head toward the labels on two of the bigger boxes. “Tree stand? Lights? Ornaments? You can’t put up a tree in a hotel suite. They won’t allow it.”
She’d stepped into the hallway, her head down.
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