“There was a cop talking to Jordie!” TJ said.
“What?!”
I told Mom about the detective, as I handed over his card.
She went straight into the kitchen, set the groceries on the counter, and picked up the phone. “Detective John Jacobs, please . . . Yes, this is Susan Wallace. My daughter Jordie said you asked me to call? . . . Yes, Jordie said you spoke with her for quite some time . . .”
And then she started frowning until she burst out, “Yes, that’s true, but she’s also very bright!” She sounded annoyed, and TJ’s eyes got big because Mom was yelling at a cop. “All right, fine!”
She hung up the phone and turned to me. “What did you say to that detective?”
“I didn’t say anything!” I plopped down in a kitchen chair. “I tried to, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
Mom nodded. “He didn’t listen to me much, either.” She sat down at the kitchen table. “The detective said he was trying to track down her family members and asked us to let him know if she comes home.”
“But what if she doesn’t?”
Mom put her hand on top of mine. “I’m sure she’s just fine. Grown-ups have all sorts of things they need to do. I wouldn’t worry, honey. I’m sure she’ll be home soon.”
“I guess.” I stood up. “I didn’t get a chance to take Baxter on his walk. I was too busy talking to the detective.”
“OK,” Mom said. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.”
“Come on, TJ,” I said.
We walked over to Professor Reese’s and grabbed Baxter. “Let’s walk around the neighborhood and see if anyone’s seen her.”
We stopped everyone we saw, and even went into all the stores, to see if anyone had seen Professor Reese earlier in the day.
“Who?” almost everyone one asked.
As soon as I said “the old lady I share this dog with,” almost everybody knew exactly who I meant—because Baxter was pretty hard not to notice when he walked by, and once you noticed him, you never forgot him.
But no one had seen her all day.
We brought Baxter back to Professor Reese’s house and headed home. Mom was just finishing making spaghetti (which I love, even though it’s gross to watch TJ eat it).
I sat down at the kitchen table. TJ sat down, too, and started playing with his paper napkin, tearing it into long thin strips. Usually, that drives Mom crazy because he leaves shreds of napkin all over the floor, but this time she didn’t notice.
She gave me a quick hug. “Try not to worry, honey. I’m sure Professor Reese is fine.”
Suddenly, I had a terrible thought. “What if she doesn’t come home tonight?” I asked.
“I’m sure if she doesn’t then there’s a good reason,” Mom said.
“I meant, what about Baxter? He’ll be alone all night,” I said. “And his ears are sore. He needs company.”
“I’m not sleeping in that big empty house,” TJ blurted out, and little pieces of napkin flew everywhere.
“I’m sorry, Jordie, but you know Baxter can’t sleep in our house.” Mom forked pasta onto our plates, ladled on the sauce, and added salad on the side. “He’s a dog. He’ll be fine.”
“But he’s a sick dog,” I said. “He’ll be lonely.”
I twirled my spaghetti around and around on my fork and thought.
Then I got an idea—a great idea. I jumped up and ran to the phone and called Dad and told him to come right over, because we needed his help—
“Jordie, what’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Hang on,” I said. I got another plate and filled it with spaghetti and sauce and salad, and by then Dad was coming into the kitchen saying, “What’s up?”
That’s when I unveiled my great idea: a Baxter Slumber Party, which I wanted to wait to mention until Dad got there—it was the kind of thing he might say yes to at the same time Mom said no, and then I had a fifty-fifty chance. “’Cause the landlord said no dogs in the house,” I explained. “He didn’t say no dogs in the garage.”
“We’re having a slumber party in the garage?” TJ said. “Cool!”
“Actually, he was pretty clear about his ‘no dog policy,’” Mom said.
“But it’s not like Baxter is living here—he’s just visiting, like a guest,” I said. “It’ll just be for one night. Please? Me and TJ and Baxter can sleep on camping pads on the floor, and Dad can have the spare cot, and Mom, you can stay in your nice soft bed in the house, if you’d be more comfortable there. And we’ll see you in the morning, just like always.”
I saved the best part for last: “It would be a great opportunity for me to be dependable because Professor Reese is depending on me to help take care of Baxter!”
Dad looked at Mom and shrugged. “What do you think? For one night only?”
“Great!” I said, because it sounded enough like a yes to me. I stood up and yanked TJ to his feet, too. “We’ll get it all set up! You guys don’t have to do anything!”
Then I pulled TJ out of the kitchen before Mom could say anything else.
It took until practically bedtime to set everything up perfectly—the pads and the sleeping bags, plus my dog books to read and the flashlights and the snacks. I ran over to Professor Reese’s house, where Baxter met me at the door.
“You want to come to a slumber party, don’t you?” I nodded.
Baxter nodded, too.
I left a note on the kitchen counter, just in case Professor Reese came home in the middle of the night, saying where Baxter was. I also got a can of dog food because I remembered no one had fed him dinner yet. I grabbed Baxter snacks and the ear ointment off the Baxter Station, piled everything on top of Baxter’s bed, and dragged the whole thing back over to our garage. Baxter trotted in behind me, ate his dinner, and then plopped down on his bed like he’d been going to slumber parties his whole life.
I flipped through my dog
