“Animals? Like, ‘I saw a rabbit three times yesterday. There’s a message from the universe in that?’”
“Exactly, but dogs. I mean, I have Goth-hound howling in the graveyard and look at this.” Sommer looked up the news article again. “This is the dog that saved the kids.”
“You didn’t see the dog on the search, only in the paper. I don’t think that counts as the universe communicating with you.”
Sommer scrolled through the news article to find the photo. “I’m seeing him now. Her. That’s a female dog. I’m seeinghernow. Whiskey. It says she was a State Police dog and that her officer, Daniel Atworth, recently died. The rescue guy who handled her on the search has the same last name, Atworth. Maybe they’re kin.”
She held out her phone, and Abbie bent over to see.
“Oh, look at him. I wish I had seen that guy on the search. He’s handsome.”
“Handsome?” Sommer took the phone back to look at it more closely. “I don’t know that I’d go that far. He’s cute in a first responder, clean-cut, do-gooder kind of way.”
“Do we say cute when we’re referring to grown-assed men?” Abbie asked. “First responders end up on calendars with puppies on their shoulders for a reason. Fit and fine. Yes, this is a very tasty specimen of a man.”
“You should send him some fan mail,” Sommer said. “Start by saying you were on the mountain searching, too. You’d have that in common. You wouldn’t just be the crazy lady who saw his photo and pounced like Mewmew there attacking that dust bunny.” Sommer said, pointing at her calico cat. “The rescue guy’s name is Gabriel Atworth,” she said, tapping the phone off and putting it on the counter.
“Gabriel Atworth?” Abbie let that roll slowly around her mouth as if she were tasting the name. “Atworth is a suitable name for a hero figure.”
How it’s going…
June
Chapter Sixteen
Sommer
Monday
Sommer had been driving home from a run to the hardware store when she spotted an antique hutch standing forlorn next to a neighbor’s garbage bin. In her mind’s eye, she saw it refurbished and filling the empty space at the end of her hall.
And it was free, which was within her budget.
“One man’s junk,” Sommer said aloud as she pulled over. “Is Sommer’s treasure.”
After testing the drawers to make sure they were still functional, Sommer popped her hatch.
Antique meant solid wood and heavy, but after putting down her back seat, Sommer was still able to shove it in the back of her SUV. “Gym power!” She congratulated herself as she used a pair of hiking liner socks from the bag of stuff she needed to bring into the house to tie the hatch down.
Still, she’d have to drive slowly. Any sudden stops and it would shoot out the back.
It wasn’t that far.
Once she got home, though, some of the shiny-new-object excitement wore off when she called her sister Sloane on video call. “Ta-da!”
“Don’t bring that into your house,” Sloane said. “What if it has rodent feces on it and you get the hantavirus?”
“Good point,” Sommer said. “I guess I’ll need a hot shower and to fumigate these clothes after I get it into the garage. I’ll scrub it down out there. I’m thinking I’ll paint it pink and maybe line it with some pretty fabric—gingham maybe, so I can putthings in there with florals—teacups.” Sommer walked over to sit on her steps to rest up before she attempted to wrangle the hutch to the garage. Maybe she should look on a community marketplace and try to find a dolly if she planned to do this kind of hobby. “Tell me what you’re up to.”
“Watching true crime and putting my feet up,” Sloane said. “Bed rest sucks!”
Sommer’s phone beeped. “Sloane, can I call you back? That’s Abbie on the other line. We’re getting ready to go on that backcountry camping trip tomorrow. She may need me for something.”
“Go, you’re interrupting my hearing all the evidence anyway.”
Sommer switched the video call over and reached up to rub her eye when she remembered what Sloane had said about hantavirus. She’d have to wipe her phone down with alcohol when she went in. Next time, she’d use a pair of gloves. “Hey.”
Abbie was in her car. She launched in with, “Do you want to hear some shit?”
