Jamie would have berated her for swearing, as she automatically did as a matter of course, but they were turning onto Clifford Street, the street she’d grown up on, and she could see the outlines of her mother’s house. She glided to a stop on the opposite side of the street, taking her measure of it. The maple trees lining the street had grown, and the dogwood in the center of the front yard still had a few green leaves. Autumn hadn’t gained its harshest grip yet.
An older, green Chrysler minivan was parked on the street in front of the house, its side stenciled with Theo’s Thrift Shop and a phone number. Theo was eager to pass off her increased caretaker responsibilities to Jamie.
“Aren’t you going to pull in?” Harley’s blue eyes regarded Jamie critically.
“Yeah . . .”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just kind of . . . strange.”
“’Cause Grandma’s gone.” She said it with a nod, as if she understood completely, though there was no way for Harley to grasp the intricacies of Jamie’s relationship with her mother. Jamie had trouble grasping those complexities herself sometime. She’d resented her mother, especially for blaming her, but she’d loved her, too. Fiercely. Which had made Mom’s anger at her all the harder to accept.
“All right,” Jamie said now, and cranked the wheel, aiming the Camry toward the driveway. They bumped along the cracked asphalt, and Jamie pulled up in front of the garage door. “Leave everything for now. Let’s just go inside.”
Harley followed Jamie up the back steps. Jamie wondered if the keys to the house were still in the backyard gnome. One of these days she was going to have to find out, but for now, she just banged on the door.
She heard a dog barking, small, excited yips, and she and Harley exchanged a glance. While Irene Whelan had been alive, there had been no pets.
“Dogs dig up gardens,” Mom had said.
“We don’t have to have a dog,” Jamie had argued. “How about a cat?”
“No.”
Even Emma had tried to persuade their mother. “A small dog. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get into the garden.”
“No.” Mom had been adamant. Emma had started wheedling, but for once, Mom was proof against Jamie’s older sister’s tactics. No dog. No cat. No pets.
Emma came to the back door, throwing the lock and yanking it inward. “Hi, Jamie. Hi, Harley,” she said in her monotone way.
Emma’s hair had grown out to her shoulders, the light brown tresses darker and streaked with gray. She blinked at the bangs hanging in her eyes, but didn’t brush them aside. Her shirt was light-and-darker-gray-striped, the tails hanging over a pair of black sweatpants. Her feet were in once-white sneakers that had seen better days.
“Good to see you, Emma,” Jamie said, sounding somewhat stiff, not how she wanted to come off.
Harley said, “Hello, I—” just as a black-and-white streak of fluff shot from the front of the house and swarmed their feet, nearly tumbling down the back steps in its haste to greet them. A small dog of indiscriminate breed, Jamie determined, its bright, beady eyes nearly obscured by a thatch of white-and-black fur that fell forward, much like Emma’s bangs.
“How cute!” Harley cried, reaching for the animal. It lithely sidestepped her attempts to catch it and started barking madly, as if it suddenly decided it was a watchdog pointing out an intruder.
“That’s Dummy,” said Emma.
“Dummy?” Jamie repeated.
“He has a stupid name, so I call him Dummy,” she explained as they entered the house. “He’s Theo’s.”
“I saw her van outside,” said Jamie. Harley was still trying to corral the speeding dog.
“It’s the Thrift Shop van,” corrected Emma.
“Yes . . . well . . .” Jamie was reminded how everything had to be precise with her sister.
They followed Emma inside, with “Dummy” squirreling after them, squeezing between their legs, nearly tripping them, then shooting forward like a dart when Theo, who’d been in the living room, ducked her head around the corner so they could see her.
“Oh, we’ve been waiting for you!” she declared, unable to hide her relief. She’d called Jamie several times, urging her to hurry home, but Jamie had been unable to get here any sooner than she had.
Theo’s hair was a mop of gray curls and she wore a pair of half-glasses at the tip of her nose. She was in jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt open over a black T-shirt.
“I saw the van outside,” said Jamie.
“That thing is on its last legs. Truly. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when it’s gone, but that day is coming.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” said Emma.
“I know, doll.” Theo smiled indulgently at her.
With what money? Jamie almost asked, but she knew that would be a waste of time. Emma’s reality was Emma’s reality.
Harley asked, “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Bartholomew,” Theo said. “He charged to the back door before I could catch him.”
“Dummy,” Emma said with a nod, as if her point were proved.
“He’s so cute!” said Harley.
“Yes, well. He’s a charmer.” Theo made eye contact with the dog and shook her head, which caused “Dummy” to dance around on his hind legs and bark some more. “Oh, stop it,” Theo said with a wave of her hand, but she was smiling indulgently all the same. “I’ve got to go. I laid out some dinner for you. Nothing much. Just wanted you to have something when you got here. That’s quite a drive, isn’t it? I’m no good in a car that long.”
“I’m no good in a car that long,” repeated Emma.
Bartholomew had started growling, but Jamie thought it might be a good-natured, playful kind of noise. At least she hoped it was.
“Come here, you,” Theo said, swiftly moving to grasp the dog’s collar before he could shoot away, which he’d definitely gathered himself to do. She dragged him forward until she could get her arms around him. “Okay, now. Stop wiggling, you little beast.” Over her shoulder as she headed toward the front door she said, “I’m going to leave and give you all some peace.”
“You’re going to leave us?” Emma asked, alarmed.
“Your sister’s here now, Emma.” Theo regarded Emma soberly, making eye contact. “I’ll see you at the store.”
“But you’re coming back?”
“No . . . not here, to your house. Jamie and her daughter are here. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
