Chapter Fourteen
Ally clapped a hand over her heart and stared at the litter. Her pretty face glowed with a happiness that would have been hard to imagine just two weeks before. “I can’t believe it, Hank! They’re actually
“Before they fall over, that is.” Hank chuckled as the puppies-all roughly three pounds each now-struggled upright, tottered and then fell, only to get right back up again. It seemed once Gracie had the idea, all her bigger littermates wanted to follow her example.
“It’s going to be so quiet here without them,” Ally mused tenderly.
Pushing his own concerns aside, he asked, “Have you heard about your job yet?”
Ally paled. “Word was supposed to be sent out via email at seven this morning.”
Hank glanced at his watch. “It’s seven-thirty.”
She acknowledged this with a slight dip of her head. “I know. I should check. But…” she lifted her slender shoulders in a shrug “…I’m afraid to look.”
Hank knew it was his job to lessen the tension. He flashed her a consoling grin, and drawled, “You know what they say…”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Ally replied, mirroring his deadpan expression.
“Burying your head in the sand doesn’t give you anything but grit up your nose.”
She burst out laughing. “And here I thought you were going to go all Churchill on me and say something like-” she lowered her voice to a booming alto “-Now, Ally, there’s nothing to fear but fear itself!”
“That, too.” He moved a strand of hair from her cheek, and tucked it behind her ear. “Why don’t you have a look?” he encouraged gently. For her sake, he hoped she got what she wanted-continued employment and a steady salary coming in. “I’ll have the champagne ready.”
She looked as if she was going to need a hanky instead. “I’m going to be fired,” she worried out loud.
Hank shook his head. “Not if they’re smart.”
Ally gave him one last glance, then swallowed and went to the desk. She switched on her laptop computer and brought up her email. Waited impatiently, her hands trembling slightly all the while. Finally, she drew a long bolstering breath, typed in a command, then another. And promptly burst into tears.
Hank swore silently to himself and reached for the tissue box.
“Porter lost his job,” Ally sobbed. She accepted the tissues he handed her and wiped her face. “I kept mine.”
Hank was ambivalent, to the say the least, since this meant she would be leaving Laramie-and him. His need to be a decent and chivalrous human being demanded that he once again put his own concerns aside, and congratulate and wholeheartedly support Ally on her career success. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” he countered enthusiastically.
Ally’s face crumpled. She slumped back in her chair and wearily ran a hand over her damp eyes. “It means I have to be back in Houston for an 8:00 a.m. managers meeting on December 26.”
Which meant she would be leaving Christmas Day, if not sooner, just as she had initially planned. Not so good. Still, Hank didn’t want to be a jerk. “Congratulations,” he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.
“Thank you.” Ally closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, looking even more distressed. Finally, she straightened. “I have to call Porter.”
“I’ll manage things here,” Hank promised as another round of puppies stood, wobbled and fell into a wiggling pile.
Ally stepped outside on the wraparound porch to speak in private.
Just as she finished, Talia Brannamore arrived. Ally greeted her, then brought her inside.
Hank had been prepared to loathe the breeder who’d managed to put Duchess in the care of someone so obviously incompetent. Who could lose such a precious dog who was about to give birth? But it was clear Talia Brannamore had been through a little bit of hell herself. Her face was haggard with fatigue, her middle-aged body drooping.
Duchess thumped her tail in recognition and panted happily when she saw her owner, but didn’t rise to greet her, as Hank would have expected her to do after such a prolonged absence.
Talia shook her head at the puppies tumbling over each other in an effort to get to their feet and stay there. She knelt and picked them up one by one, examining each in turn. “The nose is a little short on this one,” she noted with a discerning frown. “I don’t like the look of these ears. Now this one…this one is darn near perfect. And what happened here?” Talia stopped when she saw Gracie, who weighed in at only two and a half pounds, instead of the three sported by all her littermates. “What a little runt she is!”
Ally’s jaw dropped. She squared off with the woman unhappily. “I don’t know how you can say that! I mean… she’s on the small side, but she’s absolutely beautiful!”
Talia sighed. “Only because you know nothing about show dogs. This one would not win Westminster. Now this one…” she picked up a particularly robust male puppy “…would.” The breeder set the puppy down with barely a pat of affection. She rocked back on her heels. “Fortunately, most of my customers aren’t interested in showing their dogs. They just want their pet to look like he or she could be competitive enough to win first place.” That said, Talia Brannamore looked back at Gracie and shook her head in obvious disappointment.
“If you don’t want her, I’ll take Gracie!” Ally blurted.
Again, Talia shook her head. “I can’t do that. These dogs have all been presold for months now. And even though they won’t be able to go ‘home’ for another seven weeks, I’ve promised their new owners they’ll be able to come and visit their puppy on Christmas Day. So I’ve got to talk compensation with you, and then load them up and get going.”
Saying goodbye to all of them was tough, even for Hank, but saying goodbye to Gracie was heart-wrenching. Ally’s lower lip trembled and tears rolled down her face as she kissed the smallest puppy on the head and then gently put her in the flannel lined warming box with her littermates. The box was plugged into the power outlet in Talia Brannamore’s station wagon.
The breeder patted the blanketed cargo area. “Come on, Duchess, let’s go.”
The retriever looked at Talia and then Hank, and went to stand next to him. Taking his hand in her mouth, she tugged him toward the back of the station wagon.
She seemed to be urging him to get in with the puppies.
Then Duchess went to Ally and gently mouthed her hand, doing the same.
Ally cried all the harder.
The lump in Hank’s throat got even bigger. “Well, I’ll be darned. She wants us to go with them,” he muttered in awe.
“Honestly,” Talia said, exasperated. She patted the cargo bed vigorously and commanded, “Duchess! Inside! Now!”
Duchess gave another last long look at Hank and Ally, then did as ordered. She settled next to her puppies, as if knowing this was where she had to be. The breeder shut the back, then turned to them. “Thanks again. Y’ll have a merry Christmas now!” She got in and drove off.
As the station wagon went down the lane, they could see Duchess press her head against the window, looking back at them.
Hank had grown up around animals. He knew that there was a cycle to things, and this cycle had ended-at least for him and Ally. It still hurt almost more than he could bear. He turned to her and could tell at a glance that it was all she could do not to run after the station wagon and beg Talia Brannamore to let all the dogs stay.
He felt the same way.
On top of that, he was about to lose Ally, too! Talk about yuletide misery. She apparently felt it, too, for she pivoted, saw his eyes gleaming with moisture, and promptly lost it.
