Save the Date(40)

“About what?”

Through the phone, I could hear Linnie take a breath, like she was trying to calm herself down. “About the dog.”





CHAPTER 11


Or, Bankruptcy




* * *



I STARED AT THE BEAGLE, who was sitting in the center of the front hall, staring steadily back at me. Then I looked from Danny, who was next to me, to my sister, who was pacing in front of the door, her arms folded across her chest. “This isn’t good.”

The dog looked like he was just a little older than a puppy—his face still had that soft roundness to it, and his paws seemed a little oversize. He was brown, with black and white spots and long, swinging ears that seemed too big for his head. He had a wet, black nose that was twitching as he looked around, like he was trying to figure out where, exactly, he had landed.

“You think?” Linnie asked, then sneezed. She’d gotten me up to speed on the dog situation while I drove home. He’d been dropped off by a volunteer from a shelter two towns over. Apparently, it was GMA’s idea to have a beagle standing in for Waffles during our interview. He was a rescue, and up for adoption—there would be information on the GMA website and across the bottom of the screen about how he could be adopted. They’d even named him Waffles to appeal to die-hard GCS fans. Jill had apparently cleared this with my mother months ago, who had forgotten to mention any of it to us. I was fine with a beagle at the interview, and happy that it might help a dog find a home. What I didn’t understand was why he was here on Friday when the interview wasn’t until Sunday.

“But why is he here now?”

“That’s what I asked,” Linnie said. “But the shelter’s not open on Sundays, and Saturdays are their busiest days, so they decided to drop him off early.”

“But . . .” I looked at the dog—Waffles, apparently. He didn’t seem to be acting like a typical dog. He wasn’t running around, or wagging his tail, or begging for treats. He was just sitting there, staring at me. This wasn’t normal dog behavior, was it? “We have a dog now?”

“It seems that we do.”

“Maybe he can count as your something borrowed,” I said, and I saw my brother start to smile before he cleared his throat and put on a more serious expression.

“At least it seems like he’s housebroken,” Danny said, bending down to ruffle the top of Waffles’s head. The dog just stared at Danny, looking a little affronted, like his personal space had just been invaded.

“I didn’t need this on top of the tent thing.” Linnie ran her hands through her hair.

“What tent thing?”

“Apparently Clementine ordered the wrong kind,” Danny said, shooting me a look. “But Will’s taking care of it, and there’s a new one coming tomorrow.”

“So that sounds good,” I said, trying to put a good spin on this for my sister as I silently cursed Clementine. “Will can handle everything tomorrow. And this way, there’s less of an opportunity for dad to sabotage it.”

Linnie gave me a tiny smile just as the alarm let out a single, long beeeeeeeep. It wasn’t as loud as it had been this morning, but it was still loud enough to make me cover my ears instinctively. The dog leaped to his feet and ran in the direction of the kitchen, squeezing in through the gap in the swinging door.

“Oh god, the stupid alarm,” Linnie said, stalking toward the kitchen.

“How’s everything else going?” I asked, turning to my brother.

“Except for the dog and the tent?” Danny asked with a laugh. “It’s good.”

My phone started to buzz in my back pocket, and I pulled it out—and saw that it was the paper’s news editor. “Hey, Ali.”

“Where are you?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

“I told you I couldn’t make the editorial meeting,” I said, but a second later I felt my stomach drop. I had texted Ali to tell her that. Hadn’t I?

“No, you didn’t,” she said, her voice getting a little louder. “We’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, very aware that Danny was standing a few feet away from me and could hear every word of this conversation. “But you can run the meeting, can’t you? I mean, if you’re going to be editor in chief next year . . .”

“But . . . did you just forget?” She sounded more baffled than mad now. “I mean—”

“My sister’s getting married and I’m dealing with some family stuff,” I said, taking a few steps away from my brother. “But I’m sure you can handle things. And we can talk through the final issue on Monday.”

There was a long, loaded pause before Ali spoke again. “Sure,” she said, and even though I couldn’t see her, it was like I could practically hear her rolling her eyes as she hung up.

I dropped my phone in my pocket and turned to see my brother looking at me, his arms folded over his chest. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but in a way that clearly meant something. “I just think—”

Beeeeeeeeeep. The sound came from the kitchen again, and this time it didn’t stop. Danny headed toward the kitchen, and I followed behind him—but stopped short once I crossed the threshold.