Page 85 of The Art of Dying

“I’ll go with you to get him but then you need to move him to the other enclosure.”

“I will. I totally will, thank you.”

Gina glanced back at Apollo. “Watch him.”

Apollo kept his eyes focused on the mastiff and his owner, lifting his nose in the air to sniff a few times before lowering his head to prepare for any further bad behavior.

Gina walked to the far side of the park, helped the kid with the leash, checked over his dog and then they had a short conversation before she walked back. When she was fifty yards away, she called to Apollo. “Okay!” she said.

Apollo ran to her, and she leaned down, scratching his head vigorously and telling him what a good boy he was.

“Thank you,” I said when she returned. “He was going straight for Wes.”

“People who don’t have time or don’t know how to train dogs shouldn’t have one that size. Pisses me off.”

Emily had slept through the commotion, and Dylan was throwing a ball to Apple as if he hadn’t almost been mauled by a dog nearly the size of a pony.

Gina checked her watch. “We should get going. Grant is probably home by now.”

“Right,” I said, sighing.

She loaded the stroller into the back of my Infinity while I buckled Emily and then Dylan into their car seats. I played Kids Bop over the speakers, glancing back into my rearview to watch Dylan sing the words while pretending his hands were singing with him.

I waved to Grant as I passed their house, moments later pulling into my driveway and waiting for the garage door to open. Gina and her husband were standing in their front yard chatting as Dylan led Apple by the leash into our house through the garage, slamming the door behind him.

“Karen!” Grant called as I peeked inside my empty mailbox.

Emily’s cheek was flat against my shoulder as I carried her to the middle of my driveway. “How was your day?”

“Good! Would you and the kids want to join us for dinner tonight?”

I hesitated. “Tonight?” I never knew when our weekly dinners with the Harms would be, but a mid-week invitation was a first.

He laughed. “Yeah! Around six? I got some steaks I’m going to grill. Burger patties for the kids.”

“Sounds good. See you then,” I said, turning.

“Karen?” A man said from behind me.

I turned.

“Tobin Williams,” he said, flashing a perfect, bright smile.

I looked down at his outstretched hand, and when he realized mine were both occupied, he pulled back.

His deep brown eyes widened for a moment. “Oh. My bad. I uh… I just moved across the street there,” he pointed to the brick house across and one over, the opposite side of me than Grant and Gina lived.

I glanced over, meeting Gina’s eyes, who looked back at her husband while she walked inside. Grant remained in the yard, playing with Apollo, convincingly pretending not to watch.

“Lots of new people moving into the neighborhood, I guess,” he said. He looked to Grant, waiting for him to notice him and then waved.

Grant waved back, before walking over to join us. “Grant Harms. My wife Gina’s inside. This is Apollo,” he said gesturing to his dog.

Apollo didn’t growl, but he made a quick noise signaling his unease. Grant didn’t let on, still smiling at the neighbor.

“I saw the moving trucks the other day,” Grant said. “That’s who we used. Did you like them?”

“Eh… I don’t think any of them are great,” he said.

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