“He’d gotten into a routine with the monks.” Megs smiled at the puppy’s antics. “He joined them for meditation and prayers, shared some of their meals, and did handyman work for them. He talked and ate with the Lama sometimes, too.”
“Wow.” Esri seemed impressed. “I’ve always wanted to visit Tengboche. Maybe Conrad would be willing to tell me about it. My father was Tibetan. Some of his ancestors were monks there.”
Kenzie hadn’t known this. “I thought you were Jewish and Japanese or something.”
“Or something.” Esri didn’t seem offended. “My mother is Jewish, so according to Jewish law, I’m Jewish. My father was on the staff of the Rinpoche who helped start the Mahayana Buddhist school in Denver. That’s where he met my mom. I call myself a Jewdhist.”
Megs grinned. “I bet you have interesting holidays.”
“Oh, yes.” Esri got them back on topic. “A regular routine probably gave Conrad something solid to hold onto without making too many demands on his emotions or his time. It wouldn’t hurt him to build some kind of routine here, even if it’s just getting up at the same time every day and going for a hike.”
“If he refuses to leave his house, how can he build a routine?” Kenzie reached down to untangle the leash from around Gabby’s hind legs.
“She’s a real ball of energy, isn’t she?” Esri picked Gabby up and cuddled her. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
“She definitely keeps me on my toes. If something awful happened in my life, I would still have to get up and feed these two, take them outside to go potty, and…” Kenzie’s voice trailed off, a crazy idea coming to her.
She met Esri’s gaze. “Pets can be therapeutic, right?”
Esri was caught up in Gabby, who had worn herself out and curled up on Esri’s lap for a nap. “Yes, very much so. They offer connection and affection, lower blood pressure, give people something to focus on besides themselves.”
Megs looked up at Kenzie. “What are you thinking?”
Esri looked up, startled. “You can’t get a pet for Conrad.”
Kenzie smiled. “Of course, not. But I can ask him to babysit Gabby for a while, can’t I? He can always say no.”
She just had to find a compelling enough reason, one he couldn’t refuse.
* * *
Friday, September 21
Conrad wasasleep when the knock came at his door. Who the hell would bother him so early in the morning? He raised his head, looked at the clock.
It was almost noon. “Shit.”
He shoved the blankets aside, stepped into the pair of jeans that lay on the floor, and strode out to the living room to open the door. “Kenzie.”
“Hey.” She stood on his porch looking beautiful in a peach V-neck T-shirt and jeans that made the most of her curves, her long hair drawn back in a ponytail. In her arms was a tiny, squirming puppy. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all. I was just … uh… ” He ran a hand through the tangled mess of hair on his head, wondering when he’d last had a shower and hoping he didn’t stink. “I was just about to jump in the shower. Come in.”
He glanced around at the mess—pizza boxes, beer bottles, piles of unopened mail from his PO box. “Sorry. I need to clean this place up.”
She stepped inside, set the puppy on the floor. It bounded over to a pizza box and sniffed. “I came to ask you a really big favor.”
It was then Conrad noticed the worry on her face. He gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat. What’s wrong?”
Kenzie sat on the sofa. “It’s the puppy. Her name is Gabby.”
Conrad glanced down at the little thing. “Hey, Gabby.”
The puppy pawed at the pizza box, her little tail wagging.
“Gizmo is six now—that’s about forty-two in golden retriever years. He’s still healthy, but it takes a while to train a dog for SAR work. So, I got little Gabby here. She’s ten weeks old—the perfect age to start training—but Gizmo doesn’t want her around. She’s got so much energy. She’s always hopping on him and trying to play with him. She gets on his nerves.”
Gizmo had always seemed like a friendly dog to Conrad, one that got along well with dogs and people. But what did Conrad know?
