Page 111 of High Frequency

Dan and Sloane moved into the new log home Dan built just before Thanksgiving a little over two months ago. I thought he was still finishing up the inside.

“I am, but something else came up that has priority.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…” I hear him chuckle. “Don’t tell Sloane, but I’m building a stable out back. I’m buying Aspen a pony for her birthday in April.”

Aspen is Sloane’s baby daughter. Dan is not the biological father, but you’d never know from the way he dotes on the kid. The fact he’s buying her a pony shouldn’t surprise me. Still, I stifle a bark of laughter.

“You realize she’s just turning one, right?”

“So? She’s already starting to pull herself up, and have you seen her crawl? She can cross the room in three seconds flat. Mark my words; she’ll be able to walk by her birthday, and getting her in the saddle is the next step.”

“If you say so. Happy to lend a hand on the new project, but in the meantime, shoot me a text with your wishlist and I’ll swing by Home Depot on my way back.”

“Will do. I appreciate it.”

I’m still grinning when I take off my hat and walk into the lobby at Wellspring fifteen minutes later. I wave at Marcela, the receptionist, in passing. I’m halfway down the hall to my mother’s unit, when her voice calls me back.

“Lucas! Your mother isn’t there.”

Anyone calling me by that name is associated with my mother in one way or another. The rest of the world knows me by my last name.

I backtrack my steps and stop in front of her desk.

“She’s not? We were supposed to have lunch.”

The pretty woman smiles at me as she shakes her head.

“Guess she got a better offer, she’s in the community hall. But…” she adds with an over-the-top flirty hair-flip. “I’m free for lunch.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” I tell her with a wink.

Marcela is happily married woman with a couple of cute kids, and the flirting is all in good fun. She’d never step out, and I’d never step in.

I head down a different hallway, leading to the communal areas. When I walk into the main hall, I spot my mother’s wheelchair right away. Hard to miss, since she’s half obscured by a dog the size of a small horse, cuddled up to her.

“She made a new friend.”

I turn around to find David Gentry, the home’s administrator, standing behind me.

“I see that. Since when do you allow pets in here?”

“Certified therapy animals are allowed,” he clarifies. “Board approved and all. Your mother was instrumental in getting that approval.”

I vaguely recollect her telling me about a resident petition she was having everyone sign last month. Feeling a little bad I was only listening with half an ear at the time. Despite her small stature, and her failing health, my mother still is a force to be reckoned with.

I turn my head to look at her and catch her eye.

“Lucas! Come meet Peanut.”

Who the hell would call an oversized animal like that, Peanut?

The dog lifts its head off my mother’s lap when I walk over. That’s when I notice it’s missing an eye. The animal looks scary enough and I’m sure could snap my mother in half with those jaws, but it seems friendly enough, its tail thumping the linoleum floor as I approach. Bending down, I kiss my mother’s papery cheek.

“Peanut?”

Mom beams up at me. “Isn’t she precious?”

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