Page 2 of Wrong Number, Right Gray Wolf

He grumbled that it wasn’t like me to make a mistake. Not wanting to throw Remy under the bus, I apologized and said I’d send him a box of his favorite candy from my skulk. He had a sweet tooth and could never resist the honey-infused candy my family made.

“That’s bribery and pretty sure it’s illegal.” He chuckled and agreed to change the day because he didn’t like getting up early, saying he’d done that all his working life and he deserved a sleep-in.

After I ended the call, I moved the little colored blocks on the calendar so everything made sense.

Nothing dramatic happened during the afternoon, and I left Remy’s home office just before 6 pm. I picked up my dry cleaning, something for dinner, and a new plant, and when I walked in my front door, I surveyed my small haven. I owned it and it was small and only had one bedroom, but it was mine, or would be in ten years when I’d paid off the mortgage.

I needed a shower before cooking and listened to a podcast as I chopped garlic, chili, shallots, and coriander that I was using to make a sauce to pair with the fish I’d bought. But as I added the ingredients and stirred, Remy messaged saying he’d misplaced the file for tomorrow’s meeting.

I yanked the pan off the stove and found what he was looking for hidden in an unrelated folder. Pleased I’d sorted yet another little hiccup, I served rice from my rice cooker and spooned a serving of fish on top. My boss interrupted my meal, saying he was talking about the printed report we’d done because our client was hands-on and liked a hard copy.

It’s on your desk.

No, it isn’t. It’s my fault. I was looking at it earlier and I put it somewhere in the office.

Remy wasn’t usually as forgetful, so he must have been with Huxley who was his priority. I knew he and Hari were out at a barbecue for the woodworking community and their son was with them.

Okay. I’ll go back to the office and get it.

I was working from home before the meeting tomorrow, so it was best that I do it now rather than have Remy be stressed in the morning when he still couldn’t find it.

One of the advantages in his home office was that it had a separate entrance even though it was attached to the house. When we weren’t working, the door that linked the office and the home was locked, but I had a key for the office front door.

I ate my meal because another twenty minutes didn’t matter. The report wasn’t going to get up and hide in a second location because I didn’t hop to it and leave after I finished texting my boss.

When I arrived, the house was in darkness as I expected, but there were solar lights dotted around the garden, and motion-sensor lights lined the path as I strode around to the side of the house and up the stairs to the office.

I turned on the lights and glanced around as my mind tried to mirror what Remy would have done. Walking from his desk to the window, from there to the couch and coffee table, and then to my desk and the filing cabinet. We still kept paper files of everything, even though most of our files were on the cloud.

Rifling through the filing cabinet and the bookshelves produced no result, so I sat in Remy’s chair and put my hands behind my head as he often did. My gaze landed on the trash can beside my desk. I always took the garbage out when I left at the end of the day, but there was something bulging in the bin.

After retrieving the report, I texted Remy. Found it. I’ll take it home with me.

Right, that was another item checked off my list. I loved finishing tasks, and I was proud of a job well done. But as I was closing the outer door, a strange sound came from inside the office. What the heck was that? That burr, burr sound? Oh gods, no, it was the phone on the desk, the one no one ever called, the landline Remy wanted to get rid of. It was fate, it had to be, and my mate was on the end of the line.

Racing over to grab the handset, I took a deep breath and thanked the universe for giving me my happy ever after.

2

CLYDE

I slid my laptop into my messenger bag and glanced at the time with a groan. I was leaving work much later than I wanted to. On most days, it wouldn’t matter so much, but today was Posy’s library book club, and being late wasn’t an option.

Thanks to a technical glitch, my meeting overseas had started later than planned. Had it been an in-office meeting, I’d have left early or rescheduled, but getting people from two different continents into a meeting at the same time was not an easy feat. Unless it was unavoidable, we never messed with them once they were set.

If all went well, I would still get to the library before Posy’s book club ended. The librarians had been hardcore about kids whose parents were late. The first few days they pounded into the kids that late parents would no longer be allowed in the club. Had it been soccer or choir, Posy wouldn’t have been worried about the threat. Those were activities she did to be with friends more than out of a true love of the activity. But book club? That was her passion. I could see her going to school to become a children’s librarian or writing her own kids books one day.

And that was why, if I wasn’t there five minutes early, my sweet daughter started to get nervous. Being kicked out of her club was currently her worst fear. Given her past, I was happy that losing a club was the scariest thing she could imagine, but that didn’t mean I was okay with her dealing with that. Her life had hardly been sunshine and roses in the beginning, and my goal was for her to have the best childhood possible, and for now, that included book club.

I hurried to my car, looking forward to the ride back home where Posy would tell me every single thing that happened in the book club. From the second her seatbelt was buckled, she talked about the books they’d read and the new art activity they’d completed, and which questions she got called on. No detail would be left unspoken. If another student sneezed during the story, I’d know about it.

I heard many parents at school events complaining their kids were tight-lipped about what happens at school. They would ask their kids what happened while they were there and get two-word answers. I couldn’t relate to that because Posy loved sharing every single detail, and I was there to soak it all in.

If I’d known I’d have to work late, I’d have asked Miss Caitlin, the older woman next door, to pick up Posy. Caitlin was the adopted grandma we’d both needed when we moved here.

The day we moved in, Miss Caitlin had come over with muffins, telling us if we ever needed anything, she’d be there. I thought it was platitudes mixed with a little nosiness about having a single father move in. But she’d meant every word, and over the years, she’d become as close to pack as the two of us had.

Miss Caitlin would invite us over for holidays. She’d come have dinner at our place when I was making something special or something I knew she’d enjoy. On the rare occasion I had to travel for work, Posy would stay at her house. We were family.