Page 100 of Kiss the Girl
“Trust me,” she said, grinning. “If I don’t have you convinced within five minutes of getting on the road, you can turn around and drive us back home.”
I shook my head. “You’re such a weirdo. Let’s go.”
I grabbed my car keys and as we got into the car, she showed me a picture on her cell phone of the cutest puppy I’d ever seen in my life. It was a gray bundle of curls with big, black velvet eyes. “Gimme it.”
“Can’t. Meet Mom’s new child,” she said. “Now drive while I explain.”
Apparently, Roanoke was the home of Misty Mountaintop, a standard poodle who had won the Westminster Dog Show four years before. The tiny moppet Tabitha had shown me was one of Misty’s most recent litter.
“I’ve been thinking about this ever since I did a celebrity catering gig in the Hamptons this summer. The hostess had a bat infestation in her belfry, and she was totally nuts for her dog. She raises Pomeranians for show, and she built them their own mini-house on her estate. I had this lightbulb moment while I watched her hand feed them Wagyu beef that cost a hundred dollars a pound.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish. You have no idea how these rich people live.”
“Miss Lily isn’t like that.” The Greenes were the richest people in two counties.
“Miss Lily is salt of the earth,” Tabitha said. “Hamptons people are not. I mean, most of them are okay. But then you get people like Pomeranian Lady, and you understand where the stereotypes come from.”
“So that’s related to us picking up a poodle…how? Because Mom isn’t hand feeding anyone hundred-dollar beef, much less a dog.”
Tabitha smiled. “She’ll do her own version of it. Best dog food. Best groomers. Softest dog bed. Obsessively watch dog obedience videos. Can’t you see it?”
“She’s never wanted a dog.”
“Because she’s allergic and because she was too busy with us. But I did some research and poodles are hypoallergenic. They’re also the smartest breed, and it will give her something to pour all her focus into. I put a deposit down on a pup from Misty’s next litter back in October when I heard the drug trial worked. I bought Mom a compilation DVD of poodle competitions from the AKC and a few books on dog training. So you’re going to hide Poodle Pup at your place until tomorrow morning. What do you think?”
I stared in the opposite direction for a few moments to collect myself, looking as far away from her as I could while still keeping my eyes on the road.
“Grace?” She sounded anxious.
“You did this for me, didn’t you?”
A long pause. Then, softly, “Yeah. I knew it would make her happy, and you could leave without worrying.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t say much more or my voice would have thickened with tears.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s the least I could do.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not. It’s incredibly thoughtful, and I’m sorry I spent even a second resenting you.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I get it. If I could do my show here, I would. But an entire crew depends on its success to earn their living, and I have to live in a major media market so I can do the promotions and networking that keep my audience interested. I wish I could have been here more to help, but I’m so glad you were. It was the only reason I didn’t spend the last year plus in a blind panic about Dad’s diagnosis.”
I sniffed, the tears coming closer, but I blinked rapidly until I banished them. “But he’s good now. Perfect, even.”
“It makes me so happy,” she said. “He’s back.”
“He’s back.”
We drove in quiet for a while, soaking in the goodness of it.
After a while, I smiled over at her. “So tell me about the show. What’s it like shooting it?”
“No.”
I threw her a startled glance. “No?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t want to talk about the show. I want to talk about you and Noah. What’s going on there?”
