The dog gave him one more sad plea with his brown eye, before easing into a standing position, yawning, and making his way outside. With the animal kicked out, Ross reentered and shut the door behind him. But the door wasn’t able to obstruct the dejected gaze coming from the other side of the glass.
“Why are you such a mean man?” Luna’s hands had locked onto her hips.
“I’m not mean. Someone has to be the adult around here. And how about you stay off your phone and do some work, Lulu?” He handed her the watch, and she stuck out her tongue. With his heartless task completed, Ross returned to his workshop.
Later that afternoon, he departed the rear entrance with a bag of garbage destined for the alley dumpster. No one was more surprised than him to find the grungy dog, sitting beside the door as if expecting Ross to make an appearance. Hermes panted and wagged his tail as though greeting a long-lost friend.
“Go home,” Ross said while the dog trotted alongside him, acting as if the bag of trash was filled with bits of meat instead of discarded chunks of plaster.
After he took care of his chore, Ross made his return trip, determined to ignore the animal. A sharp bark pierced the air. Ross’s mistake was turning around. Hermes made his final argument with his one eye and an optimistic wag of his tail.
Ross groaned, dropping his head. “Alright. Come on.” The dog understood what these words meant and scampered through the door.
Hermes took a spot on a discarded rag at the edge of the workshop. He turned around a few times on the small scrap of fabric before settling with a contented breath. Hermes was home.
Today, the three-legged dog with the one solitary eye rested his final moments in Ross’s lap. His hand stroked the length of Hermes’s bony, frail body. “You’re a good boy,” he assured his dog while rubbing an edge of his sleeve across his own damp eyes.
“Mr. Manasse?”
A vet technician in pastel purple scrubs stood at the exam room entrance. She gave the pair a sympathetic smile. “You can bring Hermes in now.”
Ross swallowed the lump in his throat. It felt like the size of a boulder.
The tapeworm was an evil bastard, but Ross wasn’t ready to surrender. Not this time.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I want to talk to the doctor about doing the treatment.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Do you notwant me in there disturbing Hermes or something? I’ll be quiet.” Mia said. There had to be some reason he was refusing to let her into his workshop.
“No. He’s at the vet doing a treatment. I just… I don’t think anyone is going to find it interesting,” Ross stated for the second time in the last ten minutes.
She gave a slight shrug. “Well, maybe I’m the only one, but I’d love to see how it’s actually done. What if you give me a tour, and if I get some nice pictures out of it, what does it hurt? I think you’re wrong, though. I think lots of people are interested in the behind-the-scenes type of images and seeing how things are made. You’re an artist, Ross. Show people how you make your art.” Mia had arrived this morning with the camera in tow. She had the bright idea of taking some images, which focused on the heart of the business rather than the jewelry alone. Getting access to the El Dorado office had been a breeze compared to what she was fighting today. Gaining passage to the workshop, Ross’s main domain in the rear of the store, made it seem as if Mia was asking to tour Fort Knox.
Ross’s eyes shifted between the workshop door and her as though he was weighing the pros and cons of her proposal. Resistance only made her more determined. What was he protecting?
Mia changed tactics. “Can I ask you something? How’d you get into this business?”
“It belonged to my grandfather.”
“Was that Victor?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been working here since I was a kid, helping on the weekends and during school breaks. When I wasn’t interested in anything else, he taught me how to make jewelry.”
“I like that story.” Mia smiled because it was true. It was so hard to get anything from Ross, a tiny nugget of personal information was like striking the motherlode. “I’m working for you, remember? I’m not doing an exposé or anything. The images are for you and the shop, so anything you don’t like, you don’t have to use. Do you have any pictures of your grandpa making jewelry?” Mia certainly wished she had taken photos of her mother quilting.
Ross’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t you wish you had something like that? You’re adding to the history here, and it might be nice to chronicle your work. It’ll also give you something to show your own grandkids someday.”
Ross’s lips pressed together in a frown. “I wish you wouldn’t work so hard at getting me to change my mind.”
Despite his sullen expression, she laughed. “I’m flattered that you think I’m always working hard.”
“Which is why I don’t want to make things too easy for you.”
“You know I love a challenge.”
