Page 108 of Worst in Show

“You okay, kiddo? I was saying Sylvia might be stopping by this weekend for a meal. I’ve talked so much about the store. She wants to see it.”

He’s got my full attention again. “I knew it! You and Sylvia.” I make a melody out of her name.

He tuts at me. “No, no, we’re only friends.”

Right… Finally, something good has come out of this fall. Geriatric lurve. “I’m happy for you, Pop.”

“Psht,” he huffs, but I hear him smiling. “Happy that I have made a friend, okay? Everyone needs a social life. It’s important for keeping the mind young. Life can’t only be about work.”

At the mention of that, I throw another glance across the street. The lights are off downstairs now, but it feels like Leo is watching me. I haven’t forgotten our deal. Maybe I should rip the Band-Aid off. At least this way, I don’t have to see the disappointment in my grandpa’s eyes.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” I say, sitting down on the bed. Cholula jumps up next to me and curls against my side.

“One sec, kiddo.” He covers the receiver so his voice garbles. When he returns, he says, “Sylvia was leaving. Charles spoke again by the way.”

“That’s great.” My hands have started to sweat. This is taking too long—I need to get it out. “So, I was saying… I’ve been thinking about the future and stuff, and I know I’ve said I’ll always be here, but— Um…”

“But you want to do other things,” Harvey fills in, his voice soft.

For a moment I sit there in a stupor. He knows?

“I won’t lie. I had hoped we’d continue together. It’s been such a joy. But then this happened, and you got thrown in the deep.” He pauses, and I hold my breath until he speaks again. “I guess what I’m saying is, during my stay here, I’ve realized I never asked you what you wanted. And when Sylvia showed me your intergram—”

“Instagram.”

He brushes off my correction and continues. “With your creations and how people react and comment, everything came together. That one picture of you at the sewing machine… your smile…” He pauses. “You’re not happy being a store clerk. Like I said at Thanksgiving, I will be forever grateful to you, my granddaughter, for giving me these years, but you should do what you want.”

A shallow sob escapes my throat. “You’re not upset?”

“Not a bit.”

Fifty tons of dread lift from my shoulders and flitter off.

“Just have to keep the place afloat for now, but we’ll figure the rest out,” Harvey says.

Just. That’s still plenty of responsibility. Twenty-five of the recently departed tons return to perch. My stomach tightens. If I’m not going to stay on at the store, I’ll at least make sure to leave Harvey in good shape and able to afford reliable help.

“You have to win,” I tell Cholula after I hang up. “Everything depends on it.”

The snow sparkles in the early morning sunlight as I bring in the mail. After over a week’s snowfall, the icy coating is still pristine most everywhere you look, and in the distance, frost-heavy branches dip toward the Fox River where the shallows sport a crisp layer of ice. December has started off dressed in its wintriest shroud.

Leo and I are both doing inventory this morning—I am well on my way to digitizing Happy Paws—but we’re meeting up for lunch later after my long overdue dentist appointment. I can’t wait to tell him about my conversation with Harvey. For the first time in a while, that trapped feeling that’s lurked in the background for so long has subsided.

I hum to myself as I make coffee and fill up the dogs’ bowls. Then I sit down to do my social media posts for the week. I upload one of Boris in a Santa hat captioned Getting in the spirit of the season and click post. Maybe Leo had a point about there being benefits to competition after all. I have come a pretty long way.

Dr. Bartelli’s office is running behind, so by the time I have my sugar-free sucker in hand, I’m nearly late for my lunch date. I walk into the café, breathing heavily, and look around, but it seems like I have nothing to worry about. I still beat Leo here. If I can only keep up this winning streak for the show in a few days, that would be splendid!

I find a table in the back that’s tucked into a small alcove decorated with watercolor paintings by local artists. The place has multiple little nooks like this one, each with its own mismatched furniture and decor. It smells like coffee beans and old wood. Want me to order? I text him. Five minutes pass and no response.

At first, I shrug it off. He’s probably running late and is hurrying across the street right now, soon to pull open the door. I stare at it intently. Any minute now its bell will jingle and announce Leo’s arrival.

I surf my phone mindlessly until, finally, I hear the bell and look up. It’s not him.

Where is he? We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago.

I get a sandwich and a cup of soup, thinking he’ll for sure show up by the time my food is ready, but again I’m wrong, and now I’m starting to worry. What if something happened or…? No, it wouldn’t be like him to forget.

I have a few bites of my food and then I dial his number. Several rings go through. Four. Five.

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