Page 2 of Promise Keeper

Liam padded out into the hall and stood on his back legs, placing his front paws on her shins, gazing up at her. It was true love where Liam and Mia were concerned. They were pet and person soulmates. She picked him up and nuzzled her nose in his fur.

"There you go," I said, "your protector." I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "See you in the morning."

And with that calamity over, we all went back to bed.

* * *

Monica breezedthrough the door around half past nine the next morning with a huge smile and a new doggie sweatshirt for Liam. As the owner of Dog Diggity pet boutique, she stocked homemade dog treats she made daily and items from local makers. "Who made this one?" I asked, holding up the light blue fleece shirt with a bone embroidered on the back along with the wordssnack attack. "It's adorable."

"A woman from Connorsville," she said, hanging her handbag over a kitchen chair. "She brought her dog to the kennel and we got to talking and now I have a new vendor."

Monica's boyfriend, Quinn Kelly, owned Kelly's K9s and Kennels in Connorsville. He was training my lovable but unruly mutts. Monica was a new homeowner. She moved in about a month ago, but still had some boxes at my house where she'd lived before she moved. She'd been so busy with Dog Diggity and helping Quinn get his business set up, that she'd only taken the bare bones necessities to her new house.

"Do you mind if we take a walk over to the Soapy Savant and grab some coffee before we start lugging boxes around?" I asked. "I'm all out and you know I can't function without caffeine."

"I don't mind at all," she said. "The Blueberry Hill latte they have this month is addicting."

It was April and spring had sprung in Metamora, Indiana. The Soapy Savant, our small town coffee shop-slash-cafe-slash-soap shop, had been busier than ever lately with everyone milling around in the warmer weather.

"Let me put this new shirt and a leash on Liam and we'll take him along," I said.

Upstairs, Mia was still sound asleep, but I managed to coax Liam out from under her blankets. He liked wearing clothes unless they were wool and itchy, and held his head up for me to slip his shirt on. Back downstairs, I clipped his leash to his collar and we were off.

"Is Ben working today?" Monica asked as we passed Schoolhouse Antiques located right next door to Ellsworth House, Ben's ancestral home where we lived.

"He's helping Steve Longo. Steve's putting on a spring carnival at his museum and there's a bus group coming in this morning, so Ben told him he'd come around to help keep an eye on things." I pointed in the distance. "See the tent over there? Steve has all of his collections inside there, and I think he has a couple performers. Don't ask me what they're doing."

"Does Steve think he needs police to guard his weird treasures?"

"I have no idea why he wanted Ben to be there, but he does place a lot of value on his collection."

Steve owned Odd and Strange Metamora which claimed to house treasures and curiosities from Metamora's past linking the town to everything from Genghis Khan to the printing press. Personally, I thought it was a bunch of baloney.

We strolled along the canal that ran through town. Daffodils and tulips bloomed along the bank. Metamora Mike, the town's feathered mascot, quaked and splashed in the water with his retinue of lady ducks.

The sun shone off the canal, and the grist mill's wheel was churning. The big farm horses that pulled the canal boat, The Ben Franklin III, grazed on hay as they waited for passengers.

Along both sides of the canal, the old houses and buildings from the 1800's had been turned into shops of all kinds that sold used books, cookies, candy, coffee, antiques, and a few had become bed and breakfasts. Right in the center was the park, a nice open green space along the water with a gazebo and a small playground for the little kids.

We were passing by the gazebo when Liam started growling and barking. He tugged his leash toward a trash can. "No, Liam," I said, gently pulling him back. "We're going this way."

But Liam refused to head in the direction of the foot bridge to cross to the opposite side of the canal where the Soapy Savant was, so I decided I'd pick him up and carry him.

He wiggled and squirmed and had fits, turning his head to watch that trash can. Still yipping his shrill yip, he succeeded in wriggling out of my arms and jumping to the ground. Not holding the leash, I was caught off guard and ran after him.

"Hey, you little runt! Get back here!"

Liam jumped at the side of the trash can, barking and batting it with his front paws. A furry head popped out of the can--a bandit-eyed raccoon! It chittered and chattered, cursing at Liam, before hopping onto the side of the can and tipping it over.

Liam sprinted back to me, eyes the size of dinner plates, hair blowing back from his tiny face, terrified. I scooped him up and stomped my feet to get the raccoon to run off.

The brazen pest gave me one short glance then ignored me and sorted through the trash.

Metamora Mike rushed up onto the grass, squawking and flapping his wings, hissing at the raccoon. The raccoon wanted no part of a psychotic duck and took off up a nearby tree.

"What a mess," Monica said, heading toward the tipped over trash can.

"I guess I know what was in our attic last night." I started to tell her about our late night visitors when she grasped me by the arm.

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