And then there was Sunday, when Robert arrived. His arrival would give off an entirely different vibe; of that Harlow was certain.
Chapter 6
Harlow stifled a yawn, shuffling into the kitchen the next morning after a restless night.
David sat at the counter, watching his daughter pour a cup of coffee. “Another rough night?”
“One of the worst.” She finished filling her cup and plopped down next to him.
“I see you have your Mackie’s Christmas party dishes ready to go.”
“Ready and waiting,” Harlow said. “This will be my first official hosting event.”
“Any word on the Lighthouse Lane offer?”
“Not yet. According to Allie, she found out the owners are out of the country, so it might be a day or two before she hears back.” Harlow reminded him that hers was only a backup offer, and she’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact the property was gone.
“Try not to let it get you down.”
“I’m not.” Harlow patted Mort’s head. “Today’s your big day, buddy. I can’t wait to see what Aunt Birdie and Marty have come up with for the pet parade.”
“Me either. Which reminds me.” David grabbed a pair of shears from the counter and called Mort.
The pup trotted across the room.
“Have a seat.”
Mort slid onto the floor and rolled over.
“Not lay down.” David gently coaxed the pup to a sitting position.
“Bribery might work.” Harlow tipped a few treats into the palm of her hand and held them out. “Sit pretty for Dad.”
Mort promptly sat at attention.
“Good boy.”
While Mort munched, David carefully snipped the tufts of hair covering his eyes. Within seconds, his chocolate-brown eyes gazed back at them.
“You’re going to be the handsomest pup in the parade,” Harlow said. “And now that Dad gave you a trim, you won’t miss any of the action.”
Fast footsteps echoed on the back porch. A breathless Aunt Birdie appeared carrying matching canvas bags, one hanging on each arm. “Oh good. You finally gave Mort a trim.”
“He camped out in my room last night. We’ve been up for a while now,” Harlow said. “I think Mort knows today is his special day.”
“To blow the pet parade competition out of the water,” her aunt boasted. “I spoke to Marty. He and Chance are on their way. We’ll have just enough time to dress the fellas before we hit the road. We don’t want to be late.”
Harlow downed the rest of her coffee and set the cup in the sink. “What can Dad and I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Birdie set the bags on the floor. She reached inside, pulled out a pair of pointy ears and wiggled them into place. “Perfect.”
Up next was a mop of thick yarn. Tucking the edges under Mort’s ears, she fluffed the yarn, fashioning a horse’s mane. “You know what’s next.”
Mort grunted loudly and backed away.
“Get over here, mister,” she commanded.
The pup reluctantly resumed his position, patiently waiting for Birdie to strap a saddle around his middle.
