Let me hold it!” Annie ran forward, and by the time Tanya and the others had followed her into the booth, she had two puppies snuggled under her chin.
Tanya watched in dismay, anticipating the meltdown that was almost guaranteed when she tried to separate the pups from her daughter. Just then, something wet and icy cold touched her hand. She flinched, and looked to see a large, shaggy white dog grinning up at her.
“That’s Marshmallow,” Casey said. “The pups’ mom. She’s up for adoption, too.”
“Oh, Bryan!” Angela dropped to her knees beside the white mutt. “Isn’t she sweet?”
“She’s certainly big.” Bryan patted the dog’s side. “What kind is she?”
“Maybe part sheepdog or Great Pyrenees?” Casey shrugged. “All mutt. But very sweet. She’s only two and very healthy.”
“Marshmallow would be a good name for a candy-shop dog,” Angela said.
“I thought you wanted something small.” Bryan eyed the animal skeptically.
“But you wanted something big. You could take her hiking.”
“She’s white. And all that curly hair…”
“White dogs clean up great. And I’ll bet she loves the snow…”
Tanya drifted away from the debate to the other side of the pen, where Annie now sat with four puppies squirming around her. Tanya thought of her mother’s prized Persian rug, and of the dark green ultrasuede sofa. How would they look with a nice coating of dog hair—or worse? Her parents’ old dog, Misty, spent most of her days lying in the sun on a dog bed at the foot of the stairs. The old girl wouldn’t appreciate an annoying young interloper interrupting her naps.
“I didn’t know you were thinking of adopting a dog.” Austin Davies, a member of the Mountain Theatre Group, joined Tanya at the edge of the booth.
“Hello, Austin. I’m not.”
“Are you sure? I’d say your little girl definitely has her heart set on a dog.”
One of the puppies was enthusiastically licking Annie’s cheek with a little pink tongue while the girl giggled with glee. Tanya watched the exchange with a sinking feeling. Once more she’d get to play the heavy, with no partner to back her up. Then again, if she had a nickel for every time she’d cursed Stuart for his neglect of her and his daughter, she’d be able to afford a pricey home and all the dogs Annie wanted.
Tanya sighed and stepped over the low barrier into the pen with the puppies and Annie. “It’s time to go, Annie,” she said.
“Mommy, can’t we take him home, please?” Annie clutched a brown-and-white ball of fluff to her chest and gave her mother a beseeching look.
Annie knelt until she was eye level with her daughter. “It’s a beautiful puppy,” she said. “In fact, it’s so cute I know someone will adopt him and give him a wonderful home. But we can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to Misty or to Grandma and Grandpa.”
Tears welled in Annie’s blue eyes. “I don’t want someone else to adopt it,” she said. “It loves me!” The last word rose in a wail. Heads turned and Tanya felt her cheeks heat, even as she struggled to remain calm.
“Sweetheart, I promise as soon as we move to our own place—somewhere that allows dogs—we’ll adopt a puppy.”
“But I want this puppy—now!”
Feeling lower than a snake, Tanya managed to pry the squirming dog from her daughter’s death grip and deposit it back with its brothers and sisters. Annie’s protest rose above the noise of the rock band warming up next door and silenced all conversation around them. “Mommy, why do you always have to be so mean!” the little girl wailed.
“Annie, that is enough. I told you we couldn’t have a dog and that’s all there is to it.”
“You never let me have anything I want!” With surprising strength for such a petite child, Annie jerked from Tanya’s arms and vaulted over the low barrier that separated the pen from the crowds.
“Annie, wait!” Tanya cried. “Come back here.”
But the little girl had already disappeared into the milling crowd.
SATURDAY MORNING, Jack dropped Nugget off at the office, then headed into downtown Crested Butte and the Humane Society Festival. The young dog was still skittish in crowds, but Jack felt he needed to make an appearance at the fund-raiser before he set to work on the bid for the condo project. He’d make sure his crew had done a good job on the Humane Society booth, and later he’d point out to his dad that he hadn’t spent the entire weekend working.
The festival activities filled the parking lot of the Chamber of Commerce and continued down the streets on either side. Tourists mingled with locals among booths sponsored by local businesses, individual craftspeople and community groups. A stage had been set up for the entertainment that was scheduled throughout the day.
Jack maneuvered around a clown on stilts, a face painter and a woman leading a llama, working his way toward the large booth Crenshaw Construction had built to house the Humane Society volunteers and some of the animals available for adoption.
“Jack, my man, you’re just the dude I’m looking for.”
A lanky figure with blond dreadlocks brought Jack up short. A glittering electric guitar hung from a strap around the man’s neck. “Zephyr!” Jack shook the hand of the local rocker, talk-show host and all-around Crested Butte character. “Are you performing for the benefit?”
“We’re supposed to go on in fifteen minutes, but whoever put together the stage didn’t leave enough room for all our equipment.” Zephyr frowned at Jack. “Dude, tell me you weren’t responsible.”
“I didn’t build the stage,” Jack said. “What can I do to help?”
“Bryan and I borrowed a flatbed trailer from Max and maneuvered it up next to the stage,” Zephyr said. “We found some old boards to form a bridge to connect the two areas, but we need someone who’s better at construction than we are to put the thing together.”
“Do you have any tools?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been enclosing part of my girlfriend’s back porch, so I hauled everything over from there.”
Jack followed Zephyr through the crowd where he found Bryan Perry and Max Overbridge, who owned a snowboard and bicycle shop, wrestling with a collection of plywood and two-by-fours. “I brought an expert to help us out,” Zephyr said.
Jack surveyed the mess in front of him. “Do you have a saw?” he asked.
“Sure.” Zephyr produced a rusting handsaw.
“What about a drill?” Jack asked.
“I’ve got that.” Max held up a small cordless one.
“What do you need us to do?”
