Sandee considered for a moment. “I can take five. My car’s not huge, but it’s spacious enough.”
“Five might be a lot for one person to handle,” Daniel warned, clearly concerned. “And we already sent ten up to Marie in the van earlier. I think the shelter up there might be full.”
“I can manage,” Sandee insisted. “I’ll keep any overflow dogs that don’t find foster families at my house.”
Convinced, Daniel led her to a group of five dogs, each different in size and breed but similar in their expressions of anxious hope. Sandee recognized the dalmatian mix she’d washed earlier and a stout bulldog with an underbite. She also saw a lanky greyhound and a German shepherd that had been keeping a watchful eye on everything.
Together, she and Daniel loaded the dogs into crates in Sandee’s car. The greyhound seemed to fold into itself to fit into its crate, while the dalmatian whined softly, as if asking for reassurance. Sandee felt her heart swell and constrict, a curious mix of joy and pain.
The last to board was a tiny Chihuahua they’d just rescued. Shivering and wet, it looked up with large, vulnerable eyes as Daniel carefully placed it in a crate. “That’s the last of them,” he said, sliding the crated Chihuahua into the passenger seat.
Sandee looked at her car, now filled with the anxious, hopeful faces of her charges. It was a heavy responsibility, but as she met each pair of eyes, she felt an inexplicable lightness, a sense of purpose that made every challenge seem trivial.
“Have a safe trip back, Sandee,” Daniel said, closing the hatch.
She got into the driver’s seat, her eyes meeting those of the assembled canines in her rearview mirror. As she started theengine, the vibrations seemed to offer a bit of comfort to the motley crew in the back, settling them down.
But it was the Chihuahua in the passenger seat that caught her attention. With a simple, heartfelt lick to her hand, the dog seemed to convey a universe of thanks and trust. When he looked up at her, his eyes were full of a love and gratitude so profound that it pierced right through her earlier reservations.
“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll find your family,” Sandee promised.
As she pulled out onto the rain-soaked road, that simple exchange dissolved any remaining fragments of doubt or guilt. Despite the challenges and the missed commitments, this—this right here—made it all worthwhile. With a newfound sense of resolve, Sandee began the long drive back to Lobster Bay, her heart full and her spirit lifted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The buzz of the oven timer cut through Bunny's concentration, momentarily diverting her attention from the endless scrolls of vintage Christmas wrapping paper displayed on her computer screen. She'd been squinting at these festive designs for hours, trying to pin down the exact year of that mysterious gift Andie had found. But so far, the origin of that beautifully wrapped box remained a tantalizing enigma.
Grateful for the interruption, Bunny stood up and made her way to the oven, where the scents of carrot, cinnamon, and nutmeg mixed harmoniously and made her mouth water.
She grabbed the floral oven mitt hanging from a hook near the stove, its fabric slightly faded from years of use but still fully functional. Sliding her hand into the mitt, she felt the quilted padding envelop her fingers as she opened the oven door. A wave of heat rolled out, warming her face and fogging up her glasses.
Carefully, she pulled out the muffin tin, each cavity filled with a perfectly risen carrot muffin, their tops golden brown. She set the tin on a wire rack to cool, inhaling deeply as another wave of that heavenly scent filled the air.
Bunny counted out a few muffins and set them aside on a small plate. Maxi would be arriving in about twenty minutes for her art lesson, and these muffins would make a perfect snack during their painting session. The rest she placed in a woven basket, covering them with a blue-and-white-checked cloth. Those were for Olga Svenson across the street.
Bunny picked up the basket and went out the front door. Leaves swirled around her doorstep, and she made a note to rake tomorrow. Everyone in the neighborhood liked to keep their lawns nicely maintained, and Bunny was no different. She loved the street with its large lots, abundance of trees, and blend of architectural styles and always did her part to keep it looking neat.
As she made her way across the street toward Olga's quaint little house, she felt a sense of gratitude for this peaceful neighborhood. Here, looking out for one another was just a way of life, and Olga, with her years of wisdom and kindness, was a cherished part of that community fabric. Bunny was happy to be able to bring some muffins and have a nice chat with her neighbor. She’d been so busy with the investigation into the mysterious gift that she hadn’t had time to talk to Olga in the past few days and wanted to catch up.
Bunny tapped lightly on the door and shifted the basket to her other arm as she waited for Olga to answer. The door creaked open, and there stood Olga, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. She flashed a warm smile and gestured for Bunny to come inside.
Trying to be as discreet as possible, Bunny stepped into Olga's living room. As usual, the home was immaculate. The Danish modern furniture looked like it had just been cleaned. Gorgeous vases and boxes with colorful rosemaling—the flowering Scandinavian decorative folk painting—accented theroom. Nothing appeared cluttered or out of place. Family photos adorned the walls, and a faint scent of potpourri filled the air.
Olga continued speaking into the phone, her face a mix of exasperation and resolve. "Yes, Richard, I've told you, I'm perfectly fine on my own," she said, firmly yet lovingly. "No, you and Kristina don't need to have someone looking in on me. I haven't burned the house down or forgotten my own name, have I? And besides, my neighbors take very good care of me.” Olga smiled at Bunny.
Finally, Olga said her goodbyes and set the phone back in its cradle. "That was Richard," she sighed, shaking her head. “My son and daughter are ganging up on me again with this assisted-living nonsense. I swear, I don't know what I've done to make them think I can't manage on my own anymore."
Waving her hand dismissively, Olga shifted her focus to Bunny's basket. "But that's not your problem, dear," she said, her eyes lighting up as she peeked under the blue-and-white-checked cloth. "Oh, carrot muffins! You really shouldn't have, but I'm so glad you did."
Olga moved toward the kitchen. "I'll put on some tea, and we can enjoy these in the sunroom. The late-afternoon sun is lovely today,” she announced, already reaching for the teapot.
Bunny walked toward the sunroom, a destination she had visited countless times during her trips to Olga's. But when she reached the doorway, she stopped dead in her tracks. Unlike the rest of Olga's neatly maintained house, the sunroom looked like a Scandinavian Christmas jumble sale.
Piles of items filled the space haphazardly. Dala horses were stacked on one side, their vibrant red and blue colors jumbled together in a kaleidoscopic heap. Tomtes, those gnome-like figures with their iconic pointed hats, were piled in a corner, no longer standing guard over anything specific but instead appearing to have congregated for a meeting of the mythicalminds. Intricately carved wooden ornaments were heaped in baskets, their delicate craftsmanship hidden away under layers of other items. Boxes filled with slender Swedish Christmas trees, unassembled and packed away, were stacked against another wall.
Despite the disarray, the scent of traditional holiday spices—cardamom, cinnamon, perhaps a hint of cloves—still filled the air. The room seemed to have captured the spirit of the season in a wild, unorganized manner, as if it were a storage unit for cherished memories and beloved traditions that couldn't be contained.
Bunny moved to one of the wicker settees, pushing aside a cluster of embroidered Christmas pillows to make room. Then, she turned her attention to the small wicker table in front of where she was sitting. It was already covered with knickknacks: delicate straw ornaments, tiny advent calendars, and a scattering of Christmas cards. Carefully, she shifted these items to the edges, clearing a central space in which she placed the basket of freshly baked muffins.
