Page 62 of Until Landon
“Okay. That works.”
Interesting. I think she uses every opportunity to give him back a sense of control. Smart.
“See son, that’s how compromise works. If you do it right, it’s smooth as silk.”
“I’m well aware of how to compromise.” I stop myself. Not every point has to be won. “You’re right, Dad. I’ll be at the bar till six.”
“Maybe next week I’ll join you. Just for a visit. I’m not quite ready to work yet. But soon. Soon.”
“Great. Let’s make it happen.”
Getting Kim’s attention, I wave goodbye. Don’t want to interrupt the phone conversation with Hunter. She’s soothing him about something. There’s a kiss blown in my direction. Before heading out the door, I look around and under the tables.
“Where’s Dolly?”
“I was just wondering the same thing. The B Boys have been too quiet. Go. Get out of here. I’ll track them down.”
“I just want to see if I need to get her out of a jam. She was stuck on the side of the washer last weekend.”
“I figured something out yesterday.”
He starts to whistle a familiar Broadway tune. Then he adds personalized lyrics.
“Hello dear Dolly. Well you’re pretty, my sweet Dolly. It so nice to have you safe where you belong.”
The first thing that happens is the appearance of Barney. He comes from the hall, into the kitchen, where Dad stands. The eye contact he makes is purposeful.
“See, he knows I’m looking for her.”
“Where’s Dolly?” I say.
He takes off and I follow him. A turn into the guest room where Biscuit stands guard at the chest of drawers. Dad comes behind me.
“There’s nothing to get under,” I say from the door.
Moving around me, Dad takes a look on the far side of the big wooden piece.
“There’s my little girl,” he says almost in a whisper. “She’s hiding.”
He bends down and lifts the frightened animal into his arms. It is strange, but the other dogs aren’t barking for attention or being pissed it isn’t for them.
“These two are interested in what’s happening.”
“They know. They sense the fear and they want to help. I believe it.”
Barney walks ahead of Dad, and Biscuit takes the rear, as we walk back to the living room.
“You have an escort,” Kim says, putting her cell in a pocket. “Poor little baby. She practically freezes.
“Get me a few of the small bones,” Dad says, sitting in his chair. “Please. Let’s try again.”
She retrieves them from the glass jar on the counter and brings them over.
“Look what I have for you, my baby.”
He holds the treat close enough for her to pick up the scent, but far enough away not to frighten. At first there is no response. Then her tiny black nose wiggles. Dad doesn’t move an inch. He waits for her to make the effort, showing the dog that in this house no punishment follows a kindness. No bait and switch tactic made by the one who feeds. The B Boys stand guard. Although the thought of getting a treat themselves must surely be squeezing their saliva glands.
“I’ll get two for the boys.”
