She glanced at him. “Haven’t seen much of you today.”
“I’ve been writing.”
Her brows lifted slightly, and she paused her work. “Good for you.”
“Very good for me.” He gripped the handle of the coffee pot and poured. Maybe he could finish Chapter Two. Regardless of how far he got, he’d make some notes for tomorrow’s writing. He had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next.
“Was that because of your talk with Harper?”
He put the pot back and turned to face her. “She said something that gave me an idea, but—”
“So itwasbecause of her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Joyce smiled and went back to her dusting. She picked up a small carving of a bird. “You sort of did, though, lad.”
“She just reminded me of something. That’s all.”
Joyce wasn’t looking at him, but she nodded. “She’s a smart one, that Harper.”
Because Joyce couldn’t see him, he rolled his eyes. She was going to have a field day with his question. Maybe he shouldn’t ask. But he didn’t want to get it wrong. “I was thinking I should send her a little thank-you of some kind. Something small,” he emphasized. “To say thanks and show her I’m not the world’s worst neighbor.”
Joyce’s lips were pursed in obvious amusement, her eyes sparkling. “Something small, is it?”
“Yes. And nothing that’s open to a different interpretation.”
“Like a heart-shaped box of chocolates.”
“Nothingremotelylike that.” He shouldn’t have brought it up. This might go very wrong. He already felt a tension headache starting.
Joyce looked away, narrowing her eyes. “How about a basket of goodies from The Barkery?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Little shop in town that does healthy, organic dog treats. Biscuits, cookies, bone-shaped treats.”
He nodded, the beginning of the headache gone. “That’s good, actually. She thinks I hate her dog.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t. I just…hate the barking. Can I order from the website? Do they have a website?”
“I’m sure they do but it might be better to call them.”
He grimaced. The only thing worse than talking to people in person was talking to them on the phone.
Joyce sighed good-naturedly. “I’ll do it, shall I?”
“Thanks. Keep it under seventy-five dollars.” He took his coffee back to his office and sat, ready to put some more words on the page.
Hopefully, Harper would see the gift as it was meant. A thank-you. And a sort of apology for his unsocial behavior. Nothing more.
He thought hard about his next few lines. Then an idea came into his head. What if he gave Charlie Nightingale a dog? Wouldn’t have to be permanent. It could be a dog that had gotten lost. She could take care of it until she found the owner.
It would complicate things, which was always good. Complications meant more words and more pages.
And then what if the dog’s owner was someone important. Or significant in some way? He nodded at the thought. Nowthatwas interesting. Who could it be?
