“What?” she muttered. “I am not going to let that puppy worm his way into my heart. Got it?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Do you want a glass of wine with dinner?” she asked, wanting to change the subject before the puppy became an object of contention between them.
“If you do.”
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
“Okay.” She went from the kitchen to the walk-in pantry, where they kept several bottles of wine, and chose a Shiraz. She returned with the wine, used a corkscrew to open it and let it breathe.
“What do you think of Beauregard?” Cliff asked.
“Beauregard who?”
“As a name,” he said pointedly.
“Oh, for the puppy. It’s fine but a little long, wouldn’t you say?” She caught herself, adding, “Not that I care.”
“We’d call him Beau for short.”
“We?” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You name him whatever your heart desires but I want nothing to do with it.”
Cliff nodded. “Then Beau, it is.” He ran his index finger down the puppy’s golden back as Beau sucked greedily at the tiny nipple. The bottle looked like something that came with a child’s doll.
“Make sure he doesn’t do his business in the house,” she warned.
“No problem. I’ll wait fifteen minutes and take him outside.”
Beau was already proving to be a nuisance. “He’ll probably interrupt our meal,” she complained. “And you know darned well that he’ll be awake at all hours of the night. How many years has it been since you’ve had to deal with a puppy?”
Cliff smiled down at Beau, completely entranced. Her husband was an easy victim to the puppy, but not Grace. She fully intended to keep her distance, emotionally if not physically.
Cliff took Beau outside and returned just as she was mashing the potatoes. He looked in her direction and shook his head.
“No success?” she asked.
“None.”
“He’s not too bright, is he?”
“Grace,” her husband chastised. “He hasn’t had a chance to learn what it means to go outside.”
She knew that, but was unwilling to admit how critical she was being. She could see how attached Cliff was getting, and the puppy hadn’t even been with them an hour.
“Listen, Cliff, we will not be keeping this animal, understand?”
He glanced up from where he lay sprawled on the floor, playing with the puppy, and grinned. “Whatever you say.”
“I’m not joking, Cliff. I don’t want another dog.”
“Whatever you want.”
Grace narrowed her eyes as she set their dinner on the kitchen table. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Cliff,” she groaned, “this is no joking matter. You wait and see, he’ll interfere with dinner. It’s already begun.”
Sure enough, in the middle of dinner, the timer went off.
“What’s that for?” she asked, startled.
“Beau. I’m giving him a second chance.” Taking his wineglass, Cliff headed outside with the puppy, who’d been curled up on an old towel near the stove.
Grace reached for her own glass and raised it to her lips.
“It’s only for six weeks,” Cliff reminded her as he opened the door off the kitchen.
Grace had a feeling that these would be the longest six weeks of her life.
Thirteen
Hurrying out of the courthouse, Olivia frowned as she looked at her watch. She’d told her brother she’d meet him at the gallery at four, but a custody hearing had run late. Will had already left one message on her cell phone, although she hadn’t taken the time to listen to it.
Thankfully the courthouse was just a few short blocks from the Harbor Street Gallery. It was a crisp October day, so Olivia decided to walk. The trek was downhill, which was something else to be grateful for. And she loved the beauty of the brilliant autumn leaves, which were falling fast and would all be gone in another week.
Olivia walked steadily but she was out of practice and out of breath. She’d be seeing Grace later for their weekly Wednesday-night aerobics class. She was slowly regaining her strength; maybe she’d even catch up to Grace in skill and endurance soon.
Thinking about her friend, Olivia couldn’t contain a smile. Grace and Cliff were caring for that puppy of Beth’s. Beau had instantly won over Cliff. Not so Grace, who stubbornly refused to grow attached to him. Olivia wondered just how long Grace would be able to hold out. Her friend had loved Buttercup and she’d love Beau, too, if she’d give him a chance. Still, Grace insisted that in less than six weeks, she’d hand Beau over to Beth Morehouse without a second’s hesitation. No matter what, she kept saying, that dog was going back. If Olivia was a betting woman, she’d place her whole retirement income on Grace keeping that puppy.
She arrived at the gallery and entered, accompanied by a blast of wind off the cove. The door banged behind her, rattling the windows.
Will laughed. “That was quite an entrance,” he teased as he came toward her. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Actually, it worked out fine. Miranda,” he said, turning to his assistant, “would you take over for me?”
The other woman nodded and smiled at Olivia.
“Shall we go to my office?” Will asked.
“Please.”
He followed her inside, closed the door, then took a seat on one of his visitor chairs. Olivia took the other one, perching on the edge with her hands in her lap.
“I understand the repairs on Mom’s house are just about finished,” Will said, introducing the topic she’d come to discuss.
“That’s right. As you can imagine, Mom and Ben are eager to go home.” It was all her mother talked about these days—how soon she’d be back in her own kitchen.
“Of course they’re eager,” Will said. “And I’m sure you and Jack are, too. Having them live with you couldn’t have been easy.”
Her brother didn’t know the half of it. Olivia and Jack had each gained at least five pounds with all the desserts Charlotte had baked in the past few weeks. Charlotte made it difficult to say no; she was persistent and obviously felt hurt when they tried to decline her cookies, pies and cakes. Olivia’s plan to freeze Charlotte’s bounty hadn’t worked; for one thing, they’d quickly run out of room. As well, the house had been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom, and nothing was back in its proper place. When asked, Charlotte would gaze blankly at Olivia and assure her she’d put everything exactly where she’d found it. Olivia understood that her mother was only trying to help. She and Ben were considerate, too, giving her and Jack their privacy in the evenings by staying in their own part of the house. And they kept Harry’s litter box in their en suite bathroom; most of the time Olivia wasn’t even aware of his presence.
“From what I hear, Jack enjoys Mom’s cooking.” Will didn’t attempt to hide his smile.
“We both do and that’s another problem. Mom takes great pride in feeding us huge meals. We haven’t eaten this well since last Thanksgiving. The problem is, the feast’s continued for five solid weeks. Mom’s made it her mission to cook all our favorite meals—chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, every kind of dessert. I’m just glad we haven’t gained twenty pounds each.”
“Olivia, you shock me. Where’s your willpower? I’ve always thought of you as the one with self-discipline.”
“Me? I blame Jack. He keeps saying we should enjoy this while it lasts. Not only that, I hate to hurt Mom’s feelings.”
“Well, they’ll be going home soon.”
“I’m not so sure…” Olivia hesitated. “I know we’ve already talked about this, but these past few weeks have opened my eyes. It’s made me realize that the situation is more urgent than we thought. We’ll need to do something sooner rather than later about finding an assisted-living place.”
The smile disappeared from her brother’s face, and Olivia knew what he was thinking. They’d decided a couple of weeks ago that Charlotte and Ben should go back to the house for the time being, while the two of them investigated other housing options. Will had even added a few extras to the kitchen upgrades as an early Christmas gift.
Olivia and Will hadn’t lined up any seniors’ residence visits yet, although they had a list of possibilities provided by Jack.
“What happened?” Will asked.
“Well, things appear to be escalating. For example, Mom washed several loads of the same clothes twice. She’d taken them out of the dryer and put them in the laundry basket and then the next morning rewashed the same load.”
Will frowned. “She forgot she’d already washed those clothes?”
Olivia nodded.
“That’s just a mistake.”
“I’d think so, too, but as I said, it happened more than once.”
Will leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. “Anything else?”
“I didn’t keep a list, although now I wish I had. There’ve been a bunch of little things and some not-so-little things. Here’s another example. Grace put aside a mystery at the library Mom said she wanted to read. Then Mom claimed she’d never heard of the book or the author. Then she misplaced it two or three times. Jack found it in the refrigerator once and—”
“The refrigerator?” Will seemed to find that especially humorous.
“We all got a kick out of it, but when she misplaced it again, Ben found it tucked between the mattress and the box spring.”
“Like she was hiding it?”
“Exactly.”
Will shook his head.
“It might’ve gone undetected except that we started getting late notices from the library—and Ben kept complaining that the mattress was hurting his back. So he decided to look and…there it was.”
“Did Mom remember putting it there?”
“No. In fact, she forgot she was even reading the book.”
Her brother took a moment to mull this over.
“This is more than just a case of forgetfulness,” Olivia felt obliged to say. “As we’ve discussed, Mom is either suffering from dementia or in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.”
“What about the appointment you made for her with the gerontologist?”
She threw back her head, groaning in frustration. “Mom forgot the appointment. Ben was supposed to take her, but either he forgot, too, or he fell asleep. We couldn’t reschedule until after the first of the year.”
“Oh, no…”
“I reminded her that morning, too. I even put a note on the fridge.”
“Next time I’ll take her,” Will suggested.
“Good idea, but, Will, it isn’t just Mom. Obviously Ben hasn’t been doing that well, either.”
Will brought his hands up to his face. “Okay, he didn’t remember the gerontology appointment. What else?”