the phone. “Well, surely if he were dead you’d have heard by now, wouldn’t you?”
I burst into tears with the force of someone turning on a jet-powered spa shower. Grabbing a kitchen towel to contain what has unexpectedly come forth from my nostrils, I consider what I hadn’t even allowed myself to think last night. That Hudson might be dead.
“There, there, darling, I’m just trying to be practical. I didn’t mean to be insensitive, but it seems to me that this is an awful lot of fuss to make over a dog.”
“He’s not just a dog,” I cough out, still sobbing. “I know you don’t like him, Aunt Miranda, but I can’t believe you’d say that. He’s my family.”
“Oh, there, there Charlotte,” she says awkwardly. Aunt Miranda doesn’t do tears. “It’s not that I don’t like him, exactly. I’m just not a dog person, as they say. Cheer up. If you don’t find him, I’ll order you another.”
The heaving sobs threaten to squeeze my heart till it stops. I’m gasping for a full breath. In the background, I hear someone calling, “Ms. Nichols, you’re needed in the staging area. The vendor sent 30 pounds of cheesecake instead of cream cheese.”
“I hear that you’re upset, Charlotte. And truly, I am sorry, it’s just… hang on, I’m so sorry, one more mo… Then get your arse down to Food Emporium and buy every block of Philadelphia’ s finest in the dairy case! In 20 minutes, we’ll have the heads of the most powerful countries on the planet sitting on those rococo chairs to inhale their breakfasts while they solve world war! Are you going to be the one to tell them they’re going to have to eat naked bagels??? I thought not!”
I put the phone on speaker, set it on the counter, and splash cold water on my face. A glimpse of my kitchen calendar tells me I’m falling behind on the recipes for The English Manor Cookbook and I haven’t responded to Charlotte’s Chefs on the blog in two days. My regular fans, like Martha26 and GrillDadNJ will be worried. I’m meticulous about responding to my blog followers. I consider them friends. But I can’t think about that right now. It’ll keep till Hudson is back safe and sound. I dry my face on my dishtowel and steel myself to move forward. All by myself.
“Hello? Hello, darling? Are you there?”
I consider just hanging up, and pretending the connection was lost but I take a breath, and answer. “Yes, I’m here.”
“As you can tell, sweetheart, I’m swamped, but I’ve put you on my list. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll check in after the last chancellors and presidents are out the door and on their way to see The Book of Mormon. You cannot imagine how I had to move heaven and earth to get them orchestra seats for the matinee. Hottest ticket in town!”
“You know, Aunt Miranda, I’ve learned not to expect much from you but this time I’m truly disappointed.”
“Charlotte, please don’t say that. Really, I am trying to think of a way to solve your little problem.”
“I thought talking to you might help. I feel worse than I did before I called.”
“Darling!”
“Maybe if I were a country star or the Prime Minister or something, you’d give me the time of day.”
“Not another word, Charlotte. I promise you, the minute I’ve put the butts of the most powerful leaders in the world in their seats, I will solve your little dog problem. You have my word.” There’s a little pause. “Please. I want to help.”
“Fine.” I doubt she’ll remember to call back, but it doesn’t matter. A lightbulb has gone off in my head, and I don’t want to waste another minute. “I have to go now.”
“That’s better, then. Keep your pecker up. As I said, I will find a solution… Not Clamato! Are you out of your gourd? Two words. Shellfish allergies. Do you want to kill off a leader of the free world…” Aunt Miranda trails off and I hang up the phone.
I pad in to the bathroom to quickly brush my teeth and twist my dirty-blonde hair up into a clip. I don’t dwell for a minute on my blotchy skin and swollen eyes. In my heather gray sweat suit, I’ll be nothing but invisible today. That’s just how I want it. Then I won’t have to slow down and explain myself to anyone. After the car accident, people always wanted me to talk. I hated that. I like being a grown-up. No one can make me share how I’m feeling if I don’t want to. ‘If you want help, look to the end of your own arm,’ isn’t that what they say?
“Everything will be fine,” I tell myself in the mirror, just as I have nearly every day since I was 12, “Believe.” It’s been my mantra ever since Bridget, our cook and my nanny, packed me up from the old house in England, and waved goodbye. I look myself straight in the eye.
“You will find Hudson.” I get ready to go.
*****
“Geek Squad!” answered the cheerful tech support girl on the other end of the phone line. “What’s your problem?”
What’s my problem? My problem is that my tiny dog is lost out in the freezing cold in one of the world’s biggest cities.
“I can’t make my computer talk to my printer. I need to be able to scan and print. It’s urgent,” I reply. For over an hour I’d been trying to make flyers from the cardboard-framed Elfie that the young man from Takasaki had pressed into my hand. Time was ticking. I can just about manage my blog, and Microsoft Word, but no one could accuse me of being tech-savvy.
“We can help you with that. Can you explain exactly what’s going on? Let’s, uh, start with the computer part.”
Sighing with relief, I recount the frustrations of trying to make my ‘Lost Dog’ flyer with the planet Mercury taunting me from its position in retrograde, making all of my electronics and technology go pear-shaped.
“Please hold.” She clicks off, leaving me to listen to the Geek Squad’s hold music. It’s a syrupy Muzak version of The Carpenters’ Close to You. I would have expected someone cooler from the Geek Squad. I sit at my writing desk, in the little maid’s room off the kitchen, and drum my nails on the desk. For something to occupy my mind, I click on to my blog while I wait. Yes, I said maid’s room. Yes, my brownstone is Pre-War. Yes, I know how lucky I am. I managed to buy it with what was left of Mum’s money after all the debts were paid. I needed a place with a big kitchen, and this one came kitted out with a Chambers stove and an industrial, French-doored refrigerator. It was a match made in heaven, so I splurged. I haven’t regretted it for one single day.
I can’t stop looking at the photo of Hudson in his holiday garb. It’s clear that he had liked the elf who was snapping the photo. The goofy smile on his scruffy little face is evidence of that. His one black eyebrow is sky high, and he appears about as happy as he’s ever been. He looks so vital, like he’s just about to burst out of the picture and land in my lap.
Tears prick at the backs of my eyelids. My arms ache from the emptiness of not having him to squeeze. Wow, I have been on hold a long time.
My phone beeps and I grab it quickly, in turn putting the Geek Squad on hold. If I can wait, they can wait. Maybe it’s Officer Curtis with some news from the police department?
“Hello?” I say breathlessly. “This is Charlotte.”
“Ms.
