Page 17 of It Started With a Scarf

Dominic smiled and shook his head. "I don't mind. She's just loving on me. I've had a busy week She probably knows I need a hug." He continued to hold the small dog who was still nestling her nose on his chest. It was the sweetest thing, and it made Dominic absentmindedly want to get a dog one day. "I don't mind holding her if you're okay with it."

"I'm fine with it. I just can't believe she wouldn't let me take her. And she usually doesn't want to be held. Especially by strangers who are men."

"Well, I'm honored since I'm both of those." He smiled. "My mom asked me to pick up some pajamas. She said they're already paid for."

"Oh, is Caroline Decker your mom? Of course she is! You're one of the twins. I didn't realize. Your mom has come into our store before. She said she loves this line, and we hardly ever run a sale on it. She bought twelve sets. They each come in a gift box. I wrapped them, and I have everything marked, saying what's inside. I hope you have room in your car."

Dominic nodded, and the man began walking toward the back of the store, motioning for Dominic to follow him.

"I don't know what's gotten into Mitzy. She's the owner's dog, but I watch her all the time. She's used to being in this store, and I've never seen her do anything like that. Just set her down if you get tired of holding her."

"Okay," Dominic said. The dog only weighed a few pounds, and she was cute. He wasn't going to set it down as long as it wanted to be held.

The dog found a comfortable spot on his chest. She loved the smell of his jacket, and she kept rubbing the side of her little face on his lapel. It was the cutest thing.

She snuggled up to him during the whole transaction, and when it was done, he set her down so that he could carry the boxes to his truck. She yelped like crazy again, scaring both Dominic and the gentleman who worked at the store. Dominic was stooped down and she jumped up, whining, crying, and trying to get into his arms again.

"Is she okay?" Dominic asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I have no idea what she's doing."

She began whining loudly for Dominic to pick her up. It was almost a panicked, yelping, screeching cry. She was desperate to be held.

"Mitzy, no!" the man said.

"I don't mind holding her until we get the stuff to my truck," Dominic said, scooping her up and putting an end to the frantic whimpering. "I'll make multiple trips. Will she jump out of my arms if I take her outside?"

"No. She shouldn't. But, I don't know, with how she's acting. I don't know what she'll do. I can take the boxes to your vehicle. Are you parked close by?"

"Right out front," Dominic agreed.

The dog snuggled comfortably against his chest, and the guy looked at the two of them like it was the craziest thing he had ever seen. "I'll grab a few boxes and take them to your car. I'll bet you a million dollars, she'll jump down and follow me as soon as I walk toward the door."

Chapter 6

Marley

The following day

It was Thanksgiving, which was usually one of my favorite holidays. As it stood, I was pretty miserable. I felt bad, physically, but I wasn't sick. I wished I had some sort of medicine that would help calm my nerves. I was at Joan's house entertaining a house full of people, and I would rather be just about anywhere else.

Joan's daughters had been there all morning. I tried to help at first, but after a while, they started to say things to each other in hushed tones, and I took the hint and left them alone. They did not like me, especially Deb, and Joan did nothing to take up for me. I went into the living room with Joan's son, Brandon, and Patrick, her store manager, but they were engaged in conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt them.

People were everywhere, and no one was talking to me. The house was packed, and yet I was all alone. I was normally comfortable at Joan's, but today I felt judged and rejected.

My Nessa and Frank had been instructed to show up at twelve-thirty for lunch, and by the time they knocked on the door, I was frazzled and exhausted and sitting in my room. I had told everyone I went to the restroom, but I stayed there for fifteen minutes, working up the nerve to put on a smile and have a good lunch with everyone. I was uncomfortable. I had a helpless, hopeless feeling that was physically in my chest. I felt weighed down and dreaded going back out there. I'd been losing sleep for over a week, since I lost my scarf. This day was especially difficult because I knew I would have to tell Nessa.

I went downstairs with a smile. I was a good actress, and no one knew I was mentally miserable. I thought it would be great having Nessa there, but it added to the chaos. I hadn't told her about the scarf, and I was sick to my stomach that she would be disappointed about it. I knew that she would act like she wasn't disappointed but that she secretly would be. I knew she would lie to me about her feelings. I knew she would reassure me, and at the same time, she would be sad.

We had countless conversations about that thing over the years. She was so impressed that I had held onto it all that time. She would tell the story to people and make it out to be some amazing, wonderful scarf that led me to Chicago, the big city, to chase my dreams. I had heard her tell that story, and the underlying theme was that I had great things ahead.What did it all mean now that I had lost the scarf on a city bus?

I felt waves of nausea every time I thought of that scarf and imagined how it must've fallen off. I imagined its fate, and I did not think of good things. I thought I had looked back in my seat when I got off the bus. I thought I had checked myself at every turn. I stared into my glass of iced tea, working to listen to the Thanksgiving guests and hold onto a half-smile when all I wanted to do was cry.How in the world did I let that thing get lost?

I absentmindedly tuned into Patrick who was really excited and animated about whatever story he was telling. "And I went to take her out of his arms, and she squealed like a stuck pig! I couldn't believe her behavior! I thought the guy had hurt her because I knew I hadn't. But that little terror wasn't hurt, she just wouldn’t let me take her from the guy!"

"Tell them who it was," Joan, having already heard the story, said proudly.

"Dominic Decker."

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