Part 23 (1/2)
”And I promise I'll go too.”
Chapter 16.
I was just finis.h.i.+ng my breakfast when the doorbell chimed, followed by a loud knock. I stepped into the foyer and glanced toward the snowy drive, but didn't see a car. Putting my nose to the beveled gla.s.s beside the door, I glimpsed a square ribboned box a foot or more high on the porch.
I opened the door a crack and cautiously stuck my head outside. My first thought was that it might be Caroline playing a joke. She was supposed to stop over later, but maybe she'd changed her mind and arrived early. I reached down to pick up the package and as soon as I touched it, it emitted a howl. I jumped back, then heard the whimpering cries of a puppy.
”Oh, for pity sakes,” I said, lifting the box and bringing it inside. As I tore away the wrappings, I noticed round air holes cut into the back of the package. Inside was a floppy-eared puppy, a tiny bejeweled collar around its neck, a child's pink blanket beneath it. The puppy, a c.o.c.ker spaniel it appeared, eyed me quizzically, attempted to throw up, then stopped and panted. I bent down to read the gold tag at its neck. My name is Annabelle. I checked the box for a note, but didn't find anything, then stopped to pet the pup, who was feeling comfortable enough now to put its front paws on the edge of the box and gaze around.
My cell phone began to ring in the kitchen. I ran and picked it up off the table.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Hi, Gwyn. Did you like your present?” It was Josh, laughing softly.
”Joshua Newbury,” I said in mock anger, ”you wrapped her in a box. She was scared.”
”Sorry, but it was only for a minute. And I was watching. I wrapped her up in the car and walked her to the door. My sister's dog had a litter and I thought of you, remembered thinking you needed someone to protect you while your husband's away. But you don't have to keep her.”
Back in the entrance with the puppy, I lifted her into my arms. She swiped at me with a wet tongue. ”I'm not sure how much protection she'd be.”
”Well, maybe not a lot, but she can make a lot of noise.”
”Yes, I've noticed that.”
”Could I come in?”
”Sure-umm, Caroline might drop over soon.”
”Oh. Then maybe I should wait.”
”No, don't be silly. Come on in.”
This time, Josh didn't park in the drive, but arrived at the door on foot.
”Where's your car?” I asked as I let him in.
”Down the road. I felt like walking.”
The puppy began to wiggle in my arms at the sight of Josh and I handed it over to him. ”I guess she's forgiven you for the whole box thing.”
”I guess.” He smiled at me, but he looked tired. His eyes seemed dull and his complexion pale. ”Well, Merry Christmas, Gwyn, though like I said, you don't have to keep her.”
I was wondering what I would tell Trevor. Funny thing, Josh stopped over this morning and gave me a Christmas present, thought I might need a dog since you're away so much.
He must have guessed what I was thinking, because he added, ”I don't expect you to tell Trevor I gave you the puppy. Maybe you could say Caroline brought it over or something.”
”Yes, she'd probably agree to that.”
I took Annabelle from Josh. ”She's so cute. I could build a little fenced area for her to play in, until she's trained.” The pup looked up at me with heart-melting brown eyes. ”Are you hungry, Annabelle?” I asked, hugging her to my chest and kissing her on the head.
”Well,” he said, ”I guess I'll go back out and bring in the puppy chow I left in the car. It appears you've made your decision.” He glanced at his watch. ”And then I should get going. Wish I could stay longer.”
”Are you sure? I could show you the studio. You missed it the last time. And Caroline probably won't be here for at least a half-hour.”
”Well, maybe I could stay a few minutes more.”
As soon as we walked into the studio, Josh noticed my portrait of Kelly. ”When did you start to work on it again? You've accomplished a lot,” he said, walking over to it. ”Recently, since I saw you.”
”It's beautiful. She would have liked this. It captures her perfectly, the subtle mystery in her eyes ...” He turned sharply to me, I suppose to see if he'd hurt me with his comment.
”Thanks,” I said. ”I think she would have liked it too.”
He redirected his attention to my other works in progress, nature scenes and the like. ”I can see why your work sells so well. Such fine detail, and your sense of color is inspired. Will you let me buy something? Please? I'd really like to.”
”Sure, pick something out.” I motioned to the finished paintings hanging on the walls. ”And no, I won't let you buy anything.”
”Gwyn.”
”Consider it a Christmas present-from me.”
”Then how about this one?” he said, moving across the room toward the far wall. I turned my head to see which one he meant. I'd forgotten about it, had painted it years ago.
”Yes, this is the one I want.”
It was a small painting, a self-portrait-me-standing in my garden, arranging a vase of wild flowers, wearing a yellow sundress. I'd staged the shot, took it using a timer and tripod. I'd been trying out some new photographic equipment.
”Yes, this one,” he said.
”That's so old. Look, there's even dust on the frame. You can pick a better one than this.”
”No arguing. You said I could pick.”
”Okay. It's yours.” I lifted it from the wall and placed it in his hands.
He stared at the picture, then at me. ”Well, I'm off. Tell Caroline I said hi. And good luck with the puppy. Hope it works out. If not, give me a call. Maybe give me a call anyway.”
”I will. Thanks, Josh.”
He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. ”And thank you for my present. Have a great Christmas, Gwyn.”
”You too.”
I watched from the window as he trudged down the snowy driveway, then onto the road, the painting cupped in his hand.
By the time Caroline arrived, I'd carried Annabelle out to the drive twice to do her business, and the pup was quickly taking possession of the kitchen, sniffing every chair and table leg, puppy paws clicking as it ran in sudden bursts across the tile floor.