“Mrs. Frances is out of the hospital?” Ashanti asked, relief filling her chest. “That is so good to hear. I’m surprised she didn’t call to tell me she was home. She knows I would have brought Puddin’ to the house for her.”
“She’s not home,” he said. “Well, not at her house, at least. Look, can you just get the dog?”
His brusque manner caught her off guard.
Mrs. Frances had often mentioned she had a grandson in the Army. His muscular build supported the idea of him being a soldier, but that didn’t mean she would just hand the dog over to him without confirming his identity.
“Deja can check Puddin’s profile, but I’m pretty certain the only other person authorized to pick him up is Mrs. Frances’s neighbor, Tasha Jones. And Tasha is on a nursing assignment out of town.” She wanted him to know that she knew her clients. “You will need to provide proof that you have permission to pick up Puddin’ before we can release him to you, Mr. Sutherland.”
“It’s Sims,” he said.
“Sorry. Mr. Sims,” she corrected.
He continued to stand there with his arms crossed over his chest. Ashanti waited for him to say something else.
“Well?” Ashanti asked.
“You were serious.” It was a statement more than a question, but she answered it anyway.
“Of course I’m serious. We do not allow people to just come in off the street and leave with a client’s dog.”
He released an exasperated sigh. “It’s just a dog.”
Just a dog?
“Do you have any idea how much a purebred standard poodle goes for? Puddin’ is not just a dog. And if you were really related to Mrs. Frances, you would know that she does not consider Puddin’ to be ‘just a dog’ either. He’s her family.”
Mr. Sims removed his sunglasses and hooked them on the front collar of his T-shirt like an extra straight out of an eighties movie. Ashanti had not been prepared for his eyes. They were gorgeous. Chocolate brown andstunninglygorgeous.
He retrieved a cell phone from his back pocket, swiped across the screen, then turned the phone to face Ashanti. A moment later, Frances Sutherland’s kind face stared back at her.
“Mrs. Frances!” Ashanti said, unable to contain her glee at seeing one of her favorite people in the world. “How are you?”
“This hip has put me out of commission,” Mrs. Frances replied. “How is my Puddin’? Is he giving Thad a hard time? Those two don’t get along, but they’re about to become the best of friends.”
Ashanti glanced up at the woman’s grandson long enough to notice how his already chiseled jaw became even more rigid.
“So, Mr. Sims here really is your grandson?”
“I told you that,” he said.
“Yes, that’s my grandson, Thaddeus,” Mrs. Frances said at the same time. “His friends all call him Thad.” Then she added, “He’s single.”
Another sigh from Sunglasses—aka Thaddeus. This sighwas more irritated than exasperated. He turned the camera to face him. “Grams, can you just give her permission to release the dog to me?”
Surly. Single and surly.
As much as Ashanti wanted to say it, she abstained. “I can add Thaddeus as an authorized custodian if that’s what you would like, Mrs. Frances.”
“Please do. Thad will be picking Puddin’ up from now on. This new place they put me in doesn’t allow pets.”
“You had to leave your home?” Ashanti’s heart pulled. When she’d talked to her last week, Mrs. Frances was still in the rehabilitation facility but hoping to be released soon. “I’m so sorry. Maybe the new place would be willing to make an exception. I can vouch for Puddin’ if you’d like.”
Thaddeus turned the phone to his face again. “Grams, I need to go. You and your friend will have to pick up this conversation another time.”
“Bring Puddin’ to see me as soon as you leave Ashanti’s,” Mrs. Frances hollered before he disconnected the call.
He stuck the phone back into his pocket and said, “Can you get the dog now?”
