Page 1 of Fa-La-La-La Faking It
Chapter One
Adaline Bishop liked to think of herself as a good person. If Santa had been real, she was fairly certain she would’ve landed on his nice list this year, even as a fully grown adult in her early thirties.
She was pretty much beloved by her hometown of Bluebonnet, Texas. But that might have had less to do with her actual personality than with the pies and cakes she made and sold at Cherry on Top, the bakery Adaline owned and operated in the historic town square.
She was a supportive friend and sister, although she admittedly had a tendency to meddle from time to time. But only in a good way—a matchmaker-ish sort of way, to be specific, which everyone knew was the best variety of meddling.
Best of all, Adaline’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy was a therapy dog in training, and twice a week, she took him to visit the residents of the senior living center where her gram lived. Although, she supposed that said more about Fuzzy’s endearing qualities than it did about her own.
Adaline glanced down at the little dog, dressed in his red Comfort Paws therapy-dog-in-training vest and a pair of wonky reindeer antlers perched on his head. As usual, Fuzzy’s prominent brown eyes were trained on her in unabashed adoration. That settled it—her dog was an infinitely better person than she was.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Adaline whispered as she spied a flash of judgment in the furry crease of the puppy’s brow. “I’m not dragging my feet. We’re just taking a little break, that’s all.”
Adaline was, in fact, dragging her feet.
This was her third pet therapy visit with Fuzzy at Bluebonnet Senior Living. Since Adaline’s friend Maple already visited the assisted living wing of the building once a week with her golden retriever Lady Bird, the activity director had appointed Adaline and Fuzzy to the extended care unit where patients needed round-the-clock care.
Fuzzythrivedon these visits. He was a total lovebug, and his small size meant he could sit in bed, right beside the patient’s hip. From their very first visit, Adaline felt like she and her puppy had found their purpose. Every time they entered a room, they were greeted with big smiles and, on occasion, actual tears of joy...
With one notable exception.
Room 212. Adaline’s stomach clenched just looking at the number on the plain, unadorned door. Every other room in the long hallway boasted a Christmas wreath or blue-and-silver Hanukkah garland dotted with tiny dreidels. Some even had twinkle lights surrounding the doorframes. Mrs. Cooper’s room, where Adaline and Fuzzy had just come from, had a three-foot-tall animatronic Santa sitting outside the door, greeting passersby with a wave and a bellowingho, ho, ho. Every time Santa did his thing, a loud groan emanated from room 212.
I understand some people don’t like dogs, but does he have to be such an overall grinch?
Guilt pricked Adaline’s consciousness. She shouldn’t be thinking of Mr. Martin that way. She and Fuzzy were here to do good and spread a little doggy joy to everyone. That included grinches and cranky senior citizens alike.
She pasted a smile on her face and knocked loudly on the door to 212. Fuzzy’s tail wagged hard in anticipation.
“Go ahead and open it, because I’m not about to get up and do it for you,” Mr. Martin bellowed from inside.
Adaline took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob as Fuzzy, undeterred, did a little dance beside her.
“Oh, it’s you.” The elderly man scowled at her from his bed. “Again.”
“Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, just like clockwork,” Adaline said in a singsong voice.
The oddest thing happened whenever she came in contact with Mr. Martin. The ruder and crankier he acted, the more cheery her response became. She had no control over it, really. It just happened. Last week, when he’d threatened to throw a plastic container of green Jell-O at her, she’d reacted with manic glee. It was as if somewhere deep down, she believed that merriment was the antidote to his grinchiness when, in reality, it only seemed to agitate him all the more.
Maybe Adaline wasn’t such a good person, after all. Maybe she was aterribleperson. Look out, naughty list.
“Would you like a visit from the therapy dog today?” she asked, knowing full well the answer would be no.
Hadn’t Adaline read somewhere that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? If so, she’d officially lost the plot.
But since she and her friends Maple, Jenna and Belle had decided to start Comfort Paws, a new pet therapy group right here in Bluebonnet, Adaline had been doing a lot of reading about visiting people in health-care settings. One thing in particular had struck a chord—when a person moves into a facility for long-term care, they’re forced to give up control over almost every aspect of their lives. From something as small as what and when to eat meals, all the way to major life changes like being forced to give up a beloved pet, a patient’s life can suddenly feel like it’s no longer their own. Adaline had seen it happen to Gram when she moved into the senior center.
Which was precisely why she kept popping by room 212 and asking Mr. Martin if he wanted a dog visit, even though the answer was obvious. In doing so, she gave him a chance to control one tiny part of his day. She liked to think that was helpful, although so far, there was no outward evidence to support this theory.
Case in point: the ever-deepening furrow in his forehead.
“Why would I want to pet that scrawny mutt?”
“Actually, Fuzzy just had his six-month checkup at the vet yesterday, and guess what!” Adaline continued, beaming at Mr. Martin from the doorway. “Dr. Leighton said Fuzzy’s weight is just perfect for his age and breed. So he’s technically not scrawny at all.”
She didn’t dignify the “mutt” comment with a response. Because honestly, that was just hurtful.
“Isn’t that marvelous news?” Adaline asked, continuing to badger the poor man with her chipper babble while Fuzzy batted one of his paws at a jingle bell dangling from the felt antlers tied to his head.
