He looks away.
“You’re well aware that I’m going to keep asking until you tell me.”
“Um.”
“Miguel,” she commands.
He grimaces. “Jonathan’s sister.”
“Jonathan, as in JMB?” He nods. “I thought she lived in Chicago—and isn’t he still missing?”
“He isn’t anymore. Well, not to us, at least. It’s more than I want to get into right now, but he’s having some kind of not-quite-midlife crisis and is hiding out in Copenhagen. And yeah, Fiona does live in Chicago. But she’s in town with her daughter for a couple days. The puppy’s hers, or at least I think it’s going to be. She found it when they were supposed to be taking the train back yesterday.”
“Supposed to be?” She hoots. “Yet somehow she’s still here—and please don’t tell me it’s just the puppy. No wonder you look better than I was expecting. Is this why you haven’t been calling me back?”
Walter must have heard them talking about him because he has roused from his stupor and wandered into the kitchen. He gives Miguel a needy look, but Miguel’s too busy grabbing glasses from the cupboard to notice him. I glance at the pupand sigh, because though I wish it were not, it is nonetheless my dog-given duty to show him the way.
First, I make eye contact with him—well, as much as I can, with all that fur hanging over his face. Once I’m sure he’s paying attention, I clang my food bowl against the wall, hard, and the noise echoes through the room.
“You’ve already eaten, Harold,” says Miguel, his back still tome.
I nose the bowl again, and then a third time for good measure, before staring pointedly at Walter.
“I see,” he says. “You’re taking care of your new pal. It’s not time for him to eat, but that’s very kind. You can both have a treat.”
He fetches a Snausage for me and an even smaller, softer version for Walter, who is giving me grateful googly eyes. Then he addresses Miriam.
“As I was about to say, I call you back. And Fiona’s just a friend.”
She holds up a manicured hand. “I didn’t say a thing about her being anything more. I’m glad to hear you have a friend. You could use one.”
He twists a corkscrew into the bottle of wine he just plucked out of another cupboard and fills the glasses with dark liquid. “I have plenty of friends,” he says, handing her a glass.
She takes a sip and murmurs her approval, then examines him. “Who? Ding-Dong Dane?”
“Against my will, but he’s growing on me—like a fungus,” he adds. “And, of course, Riley.”
“They’re great, Miguel, but those are youremployees.Who else are you hanging out with outside of work?”
He wrinkles his nose and looks atme.
“Exacto,” she says with a laugh.
“I’ll have you know that Harold happens to be the best company.”
I reward him with a meaningful glance, and he pats my head. “How long are you staying?”
“Long enough to meet this Fiona person.”
Miguel mutters something indecipherable into his glass.
“En serio.I want to meet her.”
He lowers the glass. “She’s leaving soon, so that’s unlikely to happen.”
“You know I’m not waiting for your approval, right?” says Miriam, taking another drink. “West Haven’s not a big town. I’ll find her.”
“Don’t threaten me. Besides, I’m not sure I’m ready for a relationship.”
