was about to tell her so, when she said, “He’s going to load me into his car and take me out to eat. And then we’re going to the movies.”
“Cool. Whatcha gonna see?”
“Who knows? Something funny, I expect. Robert loves comedies.”
Nate nodded, mirroring Georgia’s frown as she concentrated on layering each fingernail with a coat of pearly white polish. “So Gramma…”
“Hmm?”
“After this person tells the nice lady what city and state, then what?”
“Then he tells her the name of the person who lives in that city and state, and she recites the phone number. Unless it’s unlisted.”
“‘Recites’?”
“Tells,” Georgia clarified. “She tells him the person’s phone number.”
Nate could read better than most four-year-olds, but not nearly well enough, he knew, to look someone up in the telephone directory. He could write his numbers, though, because his dad had started teaching him as soon as he could hold on to a colored marker.
He was thankful that his grandmother’s focus was still on her hand. And his dad was down the street, buying washers to repair the leaking kitchen faucet. If God had been listening when he’d asked for assistance, Nate could make the call before either of them could say their favorite word: Whippersnapper.
“What’s for supper, Gramma?” he asked, heading for the stairs.
“I think your dad said something about fixing chicken fingers for the two of you.” Suddenly, she tucked her tongue between her top and bottom lip. “What do you expect,” she muttered to herself, “when you’ve only used nail polish twice in your entire life!”
“I love chicken fingers. ’Specially with honey-and-mustard dippin’ sauce.”
“Mmm-hmm…”
“God?” Nate whispered as he climbed the stairs. “Help me remember everything Gramma just said, okay?”
Closing the apartment door quietly behind him, the boy sat on the end of the couch nearest the telephone. Holding the handset to his head, he pressed four-one-one.
“And, God?” he continued, waiting for the numbers to connect him to the nice lady. “Let Dad say yes about Missy the dog!”
Lily rather liked the way Missy followed her around. The dog sat quietly as Lily fed milk to a baby squirrel. And while she cleaned the eagle’s cage, Missy lay quietly, head resting on her forepaws, cinnamon-brown eyes watching every move. It was as though the retriever understood that the barn was both shelter and hospital for birds with broken wings, for orphaned bunnies…for dogs who’d been separated from their families.
“You’re a pretty cool mutt,” she said, ruffling the golden fur. “Even Obnoxious thinks so!” Missy got along well with her dad’s dog. Surprising in itself, because while Obnoxious had never been vicious, he’d never before befriended one of Lily’s visiting canines.
Missy sat on her haunches and sent Lily a happy-doggy grin. She was about to admit that if Max said Nate couldn’t have a dog, she’d keep Missy for herself—but the phone rang, forestalling her speech.
“Miss Lily?”
Nate? But why would he be phoning her? “Yes.”
“It’s me, Nathan Maxwell Sheridan. We met at my gramma’s diner?”
Lily grinned. “Yes, I remember.” How could she forget, when he’d plied her with compliments and practically asked her to be his mother! “How nice to hear from you, Nate.”
“I just called to say thanks for saving that dog today. You’re not just pretty, you’re brave, too.”
He was his father’s son, all right, adept at flirting, even at the tender age of four. Max had made an art form of it in high school. Surely he’d only improved since—
Lily remembered what Georgia had said—that Max hadn’t dated, had practically refused to do anything that involved a good time since his wife’s death.
“I heard you, a little while ago, telling Gramma that you want me to have the dog. So I’m calling to make sure you know I’ll take very good care of her. I’ll be nice to her and I’ll keep her clean and I’ll feed her on time every day and I’ll take her for walks. I promise.”
If it was possible to hug a person through the phone, Lily would have hugged Nate, just for being his adorable, sincere self. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful master for Missy,” Lily said. She was about to explain that the dog could only be his with his dad’s approval, when Nate spoke.
“I’m very gentle, you know. I don’t pull dogs’ ears or tails, like some kids do. I don’t tease them, either, because, well, teasing isn’t nice! Oh, and I’ll make sure she gets plenty of water, ’cause I know how ’portant it is—for a dog to drink plenty of water, I mean.”
Lily repressed a giggle; she couldn’t have Nate thinking she wasn’t taking him seriously. “I’m sure you’d make a wonderful master,” she said again, “but—”
“Who do you think you are,” a deep male voice interrupted, “making decisions regarding my son without discussing them with me first?”
Blinking, Lily sat in stunned silence for a second. “Max, I—”
“If and when Nate gets a dog, I’ll be the one who gives the go-ahead, not you!”
“I—I never intended to—”
“How do you expect me to deal with his disappointment, now that you’ve got his hopes up that he’ll get a dog?”
“Max, if you’ll just calm down for a minute, I can explai—”
“There’s nothing to explain. Your ‘find the mutt a home’ scheme may have worked in the past, but it isn’t going to work this time.”
It was pretty obvious by the tone of his voice, by the heat in his words, that Max had no intention of listening to reason. She didn’t understand the level of his anger. Especially with little Nate within earshot.
As Lily saw it, she had two choices: sit quietly as Max continued his tirade, or hang up.
If she hung up, Nate wouldn’t have a chance in a million of adopting Missy. But if she stayed on the line, maybe she could slip a word in edgewise…if she was patient until Max spent the last of his wrath. Lord, she prayed, give me the strength to know when to speak…and what to say when I do.
“I’ve had it up to here,” Max was saying, “with people who think they know better than I what’s good for my boy. Especially people like you, who don’t even have kids of their own!”
That hurt, Lily admitted silently. And it was unfair, to boot. Because she might have kids of her own, if loving Max hadn’t made every man look so sad by comparison.
“Stick to
