Page 8 of Always Almost You

Lauren glanced at the window, startled by the settling dusk. “You need a comfort break, don’t you?” she said. “I’m sorry, girl.” She let Pumpkin out, watching as she trotted to her usual spot by the dumpster and returned promptly, business handled.

“I need to put all this into a proposal,” Lauren said, “but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. My eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of my head.”

Pumpkin let out a soft, sympathetic woof.

“It’s time for dinner, too,” Lauren added, slipping on her jacket and clipping Pumpkin’s leash to her collar. “But what we need, more than food, is a vacation.”

Pumpkin tilted her head to one side as she stared at her mistress.

“I mean it,” Lauren said as they stepped outside and locked up. “I’d love to get away, like the Hunters are doing.”

They started the long walk home. “What do you think, girl?” Lauren asked. “Would you like to go somewhere new for Christmas? We usually go to my sister’s, and you have fun there. You’re happy everywhere.”

Pumpkin glanced back at her, tail swishing.

“It’s just … this year feels different,” Lauren continued, more to herself than to the dog. “Hannah and Paul and the girls are wonderful to me. But being surrounded by all that family happiness is hard during the holidays.”

Pumpkin stayed close, steady and warm at her side.

“We need a change,” Lauren said finally. “We’ll finish everything for the Hunters before they leave. And while they’re away, you and I will have our own adventure.”

She smiled as the idea took shape. “We’ll go somewhere cold. With snow. It’ll be cozy and quiet, walkable and dog-friendly.” She laughed softly. “Bonus points if there’s good architecture to appreciate.”

They turned onto Lauren’s street. “Let’s do it,” she said. “I’ll feed you, make myself a turkey sandwich, and we’ll pick a place tonight.” They sprinted up the driveway to the back door. Lauren slid the key into the lock and looked down at Pumpkin.

The little dog lifted her muzzle and wagged her tail, clearly in agreement.

Lauren gave her a pat and headed inside to put out some kibble.

CHAPTER 6

Lauren curled into the corner of the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees, Pumpkin tucked firmly against her hip. Outside, Los Angeles hummed on. Sirens sounded in the distance, a neighbor’s dog barked, and a car in need of a new muffler passed along the street in front of her house. She blew across the surface of her steaming cup of cocoa, took a sip, and set the mug aside. Pumpkin lifted her head, hopeful.

“Not for you,” she murmured, scratching behind her ear. The pup’s tail thumped once, accepting this small injustice with grace.

Lauren opened her laptop and typed Christmas vacation dog friendly New England into the search bar. Snowy villages flooded the screen, with twinkling lights, white church steeples, and ice skaters circling a pond. She scrolled slowly, deliberately, the way she did when she was choosing fabric, letting texture and feeling register before logic caught up.

Mystic, Connecticut appeared first. She clicked. The images were lovely. Mystic was a small village by the water. The first image featured wooden buildings with warm windows glowing against the early dark. A frozen seaport looked as quiet as a museum. She imagined walking Pumpkin along the docks, the boards creaking under her boots, the air sharp and clean.

“It’s sweet,” she said aloud.

Pumpkin’s ears flicked at the sound of Lauren’s voice.

Lauren scrolled through dog-friendly inns, noting the cozy adjectives used to describe them—charming, quaint, intimate. She envisioned it clearly: coffee from a paper cup, early bedtimes, and a compact room featuring sloping ceilings and a bed nestled beneath the eves. Mystic would be fine. She hovered over the Book Now button longer than she meant to.

Pumpkin shifted, pressing closer, her weight warm and reassuring.

Lauren glanced down at her and felt a small, unnamable resistance rise in her chest. Mystic might be a bit too calm. She closed the tab.

Next came Vermont: snowier, quieter, and with villages so picturesque they looked unreal. She scrolled past covered bridges, horses in blankets, and fireplaces everywhere. She lingered for a moment, then shook her head. Too much snow. Too much solitude. I want to be alone, not lost.

She clicked on the next option. Newport, Rhode Island, near Providence. Lauren almost skipped past it. The Gilded Age vibe seemed too polished, but something made her pause. The screen filled with the image of a shop-and-restaurant-studded wharf, the Atlantic Ocean a deep sapphire beyond. Boats dotted the water, their sails unfurled. Lauren clicked her way through images of Gilded Age mansions, Colonial buildings bearing the rich history of the Revolutionary War, and a path winding along the edge of a cliff.

Her breath slowed without her noticing. “This looks nothing like L.A.,” she said, tilting her laptop toward Pumpkin. “See?”

Pumpkin lifted her muzzle from her paws and sniffed the computer screen.

“Even the houses are completely different.” Lauren imagined poking in and out of charming boutiques and exploring the old cobblestone streets with Pumpkin at her side.