Page 64 of The Shop on Royal Street
After four failed attempts to parallel park in between Thibaut’s and Jorge’s trucks at the front of the house, Jolene finally gave up and parked two blocks away. With her sun hat on her head and with her white sunglasses and heels, she looked as if she were heading to a ladies’ luncheon instead of going to a house under construction. “You know we’ll be carrying stuff down from the attic and putting it in the car, right? That’s a lot of steps in high heels.”
“I’m sorry to have to say this twice in one day, Nola, but bless your heart. It must have been divine intervention that led us back to each other, because there is so much I need to teach you. There are three able-bodied and very strong men in that house who wouldn’t let us lift and carry all that stuff even if we wanted to. And by the way, your hair looks nice.”
“I brushed it.”
“Well,” she said. “That’s a start. I don’t want you setting your goals too high. Do you have a choker-length strand of good pearls?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, trying to catch up to where her mind was running. “Melanie gave me her grandmother Sarah’s when I graduated from high school. Why?”
“My grandmama always says that a string of pearls looks good with everything except a thong bikini. She keeps a whole drawerful of pearl chokers and matinee length—she gets them from Walmart—for those unfortunate customers who aren’t properly accessorized to go meet Jesus.”
“That’s good to know,” I said as we reached my front porch. I grabbed the door handle but was stopped at the sound of a dog barking inside. I whipped the door open and froze. A small, fluffy gray and white dog sat in the middle of the room, apparently keeping Thibaut, Jorge, and Beau at bay where they stood—or sat, since Beau, still looking flushed, was on the floor with his head against the wall, a blue thermos that I knew belonged to Jorge sitting next to him.
“Whose dog is this?” I asked.
Thibaut made a move to walk toward me, only to back away when the dog snarled, the large man’s hands held up as if he were being arrested. It was uncharitable of me to think he might be familiar with the pose, but I couldn’t help it. I looked closer to make sure the dog wasn’t foaming at the mouth. It definitely wasn’t rabid, nor did it look very threatening, due to its short, floppy ears, big dark eyes, and round black nose and how when he sat, his back legs and rear end made a tripod.
“We don’t know,” Thibaut said. “Jorge and I were upstairs tearing out the dry rot so we can get started on the wiring and he just walked in. He’s been down here ever since and won’t let us leave.”
“Is he—or she—wearing a collar?”
Thibaut shrugged. “We don’t know. It won’t let us close enough to find out.”
To Jolene, I said, “Are these the strong, able-bodied men you were referring to?” I shook my head as I knelt. Looking directly into the button eyes, I patted my thighs. “Come here, sweetie.”
A pink tongue came out, so it looked as if the dog might be smiling as it stood and trotted over to me, its beautiful plumed tail wagging. He jumped into my lap—it was definitely a he—toppling me over and covering my face with licks.
I felt his neck and didn’t find a collar. I didn’t expect to once I got a close-up view. His fur was matted in balls and his ribs poked out from beneath his skin. He was either lost or abandoned, and when I looked into his big dark eyes, it was clear that he no longer considered himself homeless.
Jolene approached and the dog bent his head into her hand to be petted. “Isn’t he just the sweetest thing? He thinks you’re his mama.”
Thibaut poured water from a bottle into a paper cup and brought it over with hesitant steps. The dog didn’t complain as the giant of a man knelt next to him and brought the cup to the dog’s snout. It began lapping up the water, spraying my face and legs with little droplets and making me laugh.
“I think you just got yourself a dog,” Thibaut said, stroking the dog’s head.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I protested. “I can’t—”
“Of course you can,” Jolene said. “He looks just like the dog you had growing up, General Lee. I figured you loved him a lot, because you’ve got more pictures of him in your room than people.” She straightened and began counting things off on her fingers, starting with her thumb. “Obviously we need to take him to a vet to see if he’s chipped, and put up flyers in the neighborhood—which can wait until tomorrow. On our way home, we can stop at a pet store and buy food and a bed and other important supplies, like cute bandannas and a couple of sweaters, because it will eventually get cold. I was hoping he was a she, because I love painting my mama’s dog’s toenails and putting bows on her ears, but I’ll get over it. Lastly, we’ll give him a bath with the flea shampoo we’re going to buy, and make an appointment with a groomer. I’d do it myself but I left all of my dog-grooming equipment back home in Mississippi.”
We all needed to take a breath after listening to her. “I didn’t say I wanted to keep him.”
Thibaut grinned. “I don’t think you got much of a choice.”
“I didn’t say you had to keep the little guy,” Jolene said in that tonethat always made me nervous. “We just need to make sure he’s taken care of while we wait for his owners to claim him.”
Beau, who hadn’t said a word yet, grunted before closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
Jorge began talking rapidly in Portuguese. When he was done, Thibaut said, “Jorge’s mother made some of her special broth for Beau. He’s not sure what’s in it, but she always gives it to Jorge when he’s sick and he swears it’s like a miracle cure after the first day of taking it.”
I raised my eyebrows, the dog now resting his head comfortably on my chest. “What about the first day?”
After a brief exchange in Portuguese, Thibaut said, “Well, I’m not sure how to translate that exactly, but he says it makes you really relaxed and sleepy so you don’t realize you’re feeling so bad.” He scratched his neck. “Not really sure if these are the right words, but he also said something like that first day is definitely not the time to have a discussion with your ex-wife.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It’s not a literal translation—but I think he said it loosened the tongue.”
Jorge nodded.“Não pode mentir.”
