The Lucky One(43)

Thibault did as she requested, and she finished with the lettuce at about the same time. She put three plates on the counter. Picking up her beer again, she motioned toward the door. “Come out back. I want to show you something.”

Thibault followed her out, then stopped short as he took in the view from the covered deck. Enclosed by a hedge lay a series of cobblestone paths that wove among several circular brick planters, each with its own dogwood tree; in the center of the yard, serving as a focal point, was a three-tiered fountain that fed a large koi pond.

“Wow,” he murmured. “This is gorgeous.”

“And you never knew it was here, right? It is pretty spectacular, but you should see it in the spring. Every year, Nana and I plant a few thousand tulips, daffodils, and lilies, and they start blooming right after the azaleas and dogwoods. From March through July, this garden is one of the most beautiful places on earth. And over there? Behind that lower hedge?” She pointed toward the right. “That’s the home of our illustrious vegetable and herb garden.”

“Nana never mentioned she gardened.”

“She wouldn’t. It was something she and Grandpa shared, kind of like their little secret. Because the kennel is right there, they wanted to make this a kind of oasis where they could escape the business, the dogs, the owners . . . even their employees. Of course, Drake and I, and then Ben and I, pitched in, but for the most part, it was theirs. It was the one project at which Grandpa really excelled. After he died, Nana decided to keep it up in his memory.”

“It’s incredible,” he said.

“It is, isn’t it? It wasn’t so great when we were kids. Unless we were planting bulbs, we weren’t allowed to play back here. All our birthday parties were on the lawn out front that separates the house from the kennel. Which meant that for two days beforehand, we’d have to scoop up all the poop so no one would accidentally step in it.”

“I can see how that would be a party stopper—

“Hey!” a voice rang out from the kitchen. “Where are you guys?”

Elizabeth turned at the sound of Ben’s voice. “Out here, sweetie. I’m showing Mr. Thibault the backyard.”

Ben stepped outside, dressed in a black T-shirt and camouflage pants. “Where’s Zeus? I’m ready for him to find me.”

“Let’s eat first. We’ll do that after dinner.”

“Mom . . .”

“It’ll be better when it’s dark anyway,” Thibault interjected. “That way you can really hide. It’ll be more fun for Zeus, too.”

“What do you want to do until then?”

“Your Nana said you played chess.”

Ben looked skeptical. “You know how to play chess?”

“Maybe not as good as you, but I know how to play.”

“Okay.” He scratched at his arm. “Hey, where did you say Zeus was?”

“On the porch out front.”

“Can I go play with him?”

“You’ll have to set the table first,” Elizabeth instructed him. “And you’ll only have a couple of minutes. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Okay,” he said, turning around. “Thanks.”

As he raced off, she leaned around Thibault and cupped her mouth with her hands. “Don’t forget the table!”

Ben skidded to a halt. He opened a drawer and grabbed three forks, then threw them onto the table like a dealer in Vegas, followed by the plates Elizabeth had set aside earlier. In all, it took him less than ten seconds—and the table showed it—before he vanished from view. When he was gone, Elizabeth shook her head. “Until Zeus got here, Ben used to be a quiet, easygoing child after school. He used to read and study, and now all he wants to do is chase your dog.”

Thibault made a guilty face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Believe me, I like a little . . . calmness as much as the next mother, but it’s nice to see him so excited.”

“Why don’t you get him his own dog?”

“I will. In time. Once I see how things go with Nana.” She took a sip of beer and nodded toward the house. “Let’s go check on dinner. I think the oven’s probably ready.”

Back inside, Elizabeth slipped the cookie sheet into the oven and stirred the meat and salsa before ladling both into bowls. As she brought them to the table along with a stack of paper napkins, Thibault straightened the silverware and plates and grabbed the cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. When Elizabeth set her beer on the table, Thibault was struck again by her natural beauty.

“Do you want to call Ben, or should I?”

He forced himself to turn away. “I’ll call Ben,” he said.

Ben was sitting on the front porch, stroking a panting Zeus from his forehead to his tail in one long stroke.

“You tired him out,” Thibault observed.

“I run pretty fast,” Ben agreed.

“You ready to eat? Dinner’s on the table.”

Ben got up, and Zeus raised his head. “Stay here,” Thibault said. Zeus’s ears flattened as if he were being punished. But he laid his head back down as Ben and Thibault entered the house.

Elizabeth was already seated at the table. As soon as Ben and Thibault sat down, Ben immediately started loading his taco with the seasoned ground beef.