“Well, it makes him bark. Why must you say hello to him?”
“Because he was Gretchen’s dog.”
He stops and turns to look at me. In the cheery light of the moon, I can see his eyes have gone glassy. “You knew my Gretchen?”
“Gretchen was in my class at school. I used to watch her play with that dog. He was so cute and he loved her so much. I could tell by the way he’d jump and prance and play when she was with him.”
“Yes,” he says in a dreamlike voice. “He loved her.”
“And then after Gretchen died, I’d see you walking him and I wanted to run after you so that I could pet him and play with him, butI didn’t know if I should. Or if you would let me. So I never did. But I’d walk past your bakery all the time, and I’d see your dog in the window above and he’d see me. He’d bark and it was like we were saying hello to each other.”
“You’re one of Thomas Bright’s daughters,” he says slowly, as though all the details are becoming more clear to him.
I don’t say anything.
“You lost your mother to the flu.”
A hot lump immediately forms in my throat. “She caught it from me.”
He blinks. “What?”
“I gave it to her. I had the flu, too. I got better. She didn’t.”
“Who told you you gave it to her?”
“No one had to tell me. I had it and she took care of me and then she got it. From me.”
Gretchen’s father looks down at Sweet Polly Adler’s dress. At my disguise.
“You can’t be out like this in a place like that,” he says, nodding in the direction we came. “What you’re doing won’t bring your mother back. She wouldn’t want you to be doing it. And I’m sure your father doesn’t.”
We stand there looking at each other, both with our losses raw and new and out in the open like they just happened.
“What’s your name?” he says.
“Willa,” I whisper.
“I’ll walk you home now, Willa,” Mr. Weiss says. “And tomorrow, you come up to the bakery to meet Louisa, Gretchen’s mother. You can have some apple strudel and then you can take Fritz for a nice long walk and you can play with him as long as you want. You can come back to play with Fritz every day if you wish, and I won’t say anything to your father about where you were tonight if you promise you won’t ever go back to that place. Do we have a deal?”
It suddenly occurs to me there won’t be a Silver Swan after tonight.I won’t know what has become of Albert or Mr. Trout or Foster. Or Lila. A peculiar sadness envelops me. Everything I love always gets taken from me in one way or another. Even that little dog will someday be taken from me.
“Do we have a deal, Willa Bright?” Mr. Weiss asks.
I tell him yes.
It is easy to make promises in a world where nothing lasts.
