en Jane got back from the vet, she had a blinking essage from the architect on her phone. "Jane, this is Jack. I forgot to tell you something. When we get approval for this project, we'll have to take part of your south fence out to get the equipment into your backyard. I noticed that you have a dog. So take it outside on a leash when we're ready."
She didn't have the heart to call back and say she no longer had the old dog. Even though she was curious about when the pouring of the foundation would start. She'd ask him later.
Nor was she calm enough yet to tell Katie and Mike. She did call Shelley, who sympathized in the best way. "That's the thing about well-loved pets. We always out‑
live them. 1 suppose the worst scenario is that one would outlive us and have to go to strangers."
"Thanks, Shelley. You're right. I'm never getting a dog again. It's too hard to lose one. The same with cats. Well, not exactly. They don't really need you to be home all the time. Leave lots of kitty litter and food and water and go away for a weekend and they're mildly happy when you get home. Dogs aren't like that. They love their people and are sad when they're left alone, or — God forbid — put in a kennel."
"There is another difference," Shelley said. "Dogs love their owners. Cats think they own you."
Jane laughed and then went on to tell Shelley how nice the vet had been, especially to Todd. The vet took so much trouble to comfort Todd on Willard's death, and explained about the headstone idea.
"He's such a nice man," Shelley said. "We had always taken our pets to him back when we had pets. He cared about them and their owners, even though one of our cats' records was headed `Caution — Mean Cat."
That made Jane laugh again. She vaguely remembered that cat of the Nowacks'. It had bitten both her and Mike the first time each of them had tried to pet it.
"You really need to go shopping tomorrow for your dress for the fake wedding," Shelley said.
"That sounds like excellent therapy."
They took along the scrap of charcoal fabric they'd talked the tux guy into finding. But after two completerounds of trampling entirely through three dress stores, found nothing even close.
"Don't worry, Jane. A fabric store will have an exact match and I know an excellent dressmaker who can make whatever you need."
"Right now what I need most is to go home and see if Todd has finished his headstone for Willard. Todd will want me to compliment it the moment he finishes and his feelings will be hurt if I'm not there."
Shelley, who'd often been in similar situations with her children when pets had died, agreed. "We have lots of time. Neither wedding is for a few months. Give me that scrap of fabric and I'll go through every fabric store in town like Sherman through Altanta."
Todd had finished the headstone and did a good job of it.
"How did you get all that writing so neat?" Jane asked. "With one of my pens that was out of ink."
In large letters at the top it said WILLARD. Below that were the dates of his birth and death. At the bottom Todd had drawn quite an accurate drawing of the dog in his prime. He'd even colored it in.
"That's a fine job. Are you going to varnish it so it won't fade or run?"
"I hadn't thought about that. That's a good idea. But it needs to dry completely before I do it. It's still a bit damp."
"I need to call Mike and Katie with the bad news. They're going to be as sad as we are."
Todd looked away. "I'll do it if you want. I've been remembering when he was a puppy and I wanted him to sleep in my bed with me and you wouldn't let me because I might roll over and squash him. So he had a little bed next to mine. You made him a nice soft cushion to sleep
on."
"I remember. He was a cute puppy, wasn't he? Who'd have guessed then how big and strong he'd get,"Jane said. "And remember how soft his fur was? Everybody wanted to cuddle him."
Todd was obviously feeling better, having this talk with his mother. Earlier today she'd been so strong about it. Helping carry Willard to the car, and explaining to the vet how he'd died. Jane was glad she'd come home to have this time with Todd.
"Would you rather I called Katie and Mike?" he suddenly asked.
"I'd like it if you would. But if you get an answering machine, though, don't leave a message except to call home."
He cocked a cynical eyebrow. "Mom, I'm not a dim bulb."
She laughed. "I know that. I shouldn't have warned you. I'll leave you to it and not eavesdrop. I'll make a cup of coffee and sit on the patio."
As she sat outside, she realized that Todd had reached the cusp between childhood and being an adult. It was, as she well remembered, one of the milestones of most people's lives. Scary but exciting doing the balancingact. Offering to give the bad news to his older sister and brother and sparing his mother was a big step forward.
The next morning Jane received another call from the architect. "Did you get my message about your dog?"
"Yes, but when you called, we had him at the vet. He's dead. Heart attack."
There was a silence and Jack cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry to have asked such a tactless question. Your uncle Jim would be ashamed of me."
"Don't worry. You had no way to know. I wanted you to realize why I hadn't been polite enough to reply. Do you have any idea when the work can start?"
"Very soon. At least by next Tuesday or Wednesday if it's to be done before your wedding."
"I'm surprised. Yes, that would be wonderful if it could happen."
"I can't promise that the small things will be finished by then. Cleaning the windows, finishing the trim and such. But it will be a livable, usable area by the time you're back from your honeymoon," he added with a chuckle.
Jane realized that she and Mel hadn't even discussed having a honeymoon. How could either of them get away from work? Mel was virtually always on call and Jane had some work to do on the almost finished second book. She wanted to get it in well before the deadline, which was two weeks before the real wedding. She'd more or less thought that with the kids home for the wedding, her
parents visiting after a long flight, and a fair amount of stress to get Mel's room ready, that they might just spend one glorious night at a really good hotel and spend the next few days relaxing with family and friends.
Besides, a honeymoon for middle-aged people, not that either she or Mel thought of themselves as such, was a bit silly.
Though she was in contact at least twice a week with her parents via e-mail, it would be nice to sit around the kitchen table just talking to them. Or take them to restaurants, and see some new sights that had sprung up all over the Chicago area since they'd last been here.
Then she thought of her sister, Marty. She and Marty were like oil and water. They'd never shared common interests or values. Marty had been married at least four times. They hadn't laid eyes on each other for well over a decade. More likely two decades. Jane realized that Marty hadn't ever met Mike, Katie, and Todd. She had no interest in children. They didn't exchange birthday or holiday cards or gifts.
Jane was also afraid to invite Marty, because she always had an inappropriate man, to say the least, living with her. The only reason Jane knew this was because Marty was always nagging their parents to help support the current husband or boyfriend. She never succeeded and never gave up trying.
Jane also knew that her parents, who complained about Marty, never told Marty anything about Jane or her family. Marty never asked. It was as if she'd forgotten sheever had a sister. She'd have to e-mail her folks to see if there was any slim chance they wanted their other daughter at the wedding. She was sure she knew the answer. But it was the polite thing to ask them anyway.
She was happily distracted from all these worries by Shelley knocking at the kitchen door. Shelley was carrying a big paper bag with paper handles that were about to give up the ghost.
"Come in. What's all this?"
"Fabrics," Shelley said grimly. "Clear your dining room table."
"There's nothing on it now except a tablecloth," Jane replied.
With a flourish Shelley dumped a good fifty strips about four inches wide and twelve inches long on the table.