Page 12 of The Snuggle is Real
“They haven’t figured it out yet?” Sawyer called from the phone.
“Oh, ha-ha.”
The border collie was mostly white with a black patch around one eye, over both ears, and a few polka-dots along his neck and legs.
“You’re free to rename him when you decide to adopt,” Elias said.
“If I adopt,” I said.
“When,” he repeated with a wink. Elias dipped down to look into the camera, “You raised a good man here. He’s got a big heart.”
“The biggest,” Mom agreed.
“Which is how I know this guy”—he ruffled the top of Peppermint Bark’s head— “has just landed himself the best home he could hope for.”
“Oh, he’s adorable!” Mom crooned. “Can’t wait to meet him and spoil him rotten this Christmas.”
“It’s temporary,” I warned.
“Famous last words,” Sawyer said with a grin.
“Thanks for the call, guys. I can’t wait to see you, but I should go.” I waved to the antsy dog who was already shoving his nose into a box in the corner.
“Sure, honey. Go make your new fur baby welcome! We’ll see you soon.”
“It’s temp?—”
They disconnected and Elias laughed.
“Just fill out the paperwork, so I can get out of your hair.”
I glanced at the chaos out front, then at the chaos dressed in fur in here. I was going to have my hands full this holiday.
CHAPTER 4
Ford
“Hey, sleepyhead.”I eased open the door of the second bedroom. “Are you ready to wake up for the big turkey day?”
Charlie nestled under her white-and-pink unicorn comforter. Her toddler bed was still here—and Charlie was a bit of a shrimp—so I hadn’t had to buy a frame or mattress, but bedding was another matter.
“No,” her voice came out, a little muffled by the pillow.
“No? You don’t want turkey and potatoes andpie.”
All thanks to Dottie.
I’d promised to provide the groceries, but my money had gone on gas to pick up Charlie, then bedding, some sweaters since she’d arrived with no more than three outfits, and a pair of proper shoes since the kid had been dressed in sandals—sandals!—in late November. I didn’t know what LuAnne was thinking, but she was probably frazzled over court and in denial that it would lead to any real consequences.
LuAnne had never been the best at facing her mistakes. She preferred the stick-your-head-in-the-sand approach. Just one reason she couldn’t handle my grief when my sister died.
I didn’t hide the pain. Couldn’t. And LuAnne couldn’t handle it.
But thanks to her poor planning, the expenses of taking on Charlie were quickly stacking up.
I’d had no choice but to tell Dottie I couldn’t get the groceries as planned. I had no work in sight, very little room on my last credit card, and a child who was likely to need more from me than I had to give.
Dottie had waved away my guilt and assured me a friend of hers could take care of it instead. Whoever that friend was, I owed them abigthank you.
