Page 13 of Puppy Christmas

Considering the streak of yellow snow leading from his formerly more-or-less clean van, he felt he was being extraordinarily gentle, but he complied with his daughter’s request all the same. To be fair, Jeeveswasa cute little thing, his curls flopping into his eyes and alternate patches of black and white all over his warm, chubby body. He was even cuter once Emily got hold of him. Ford had no idea whether all the puppies at Lila’s kennel were this well behaved or if Emily had some kind of sixth sense, but Jeeves had taken to his daughter as quickly as she’d taken to him. As soon as the cockapoo—a name Ford found almost as ridiculous as his own—was clasped in her puffy-coated arms, he hefted a sigh of pleasure and rested his little head on her shoulder.

Only try to separate us now, that little head seemed to say—and in a British accent, too. Unlike him, Jeeves von Hinklebottom the Third had been aptly named.

“Oh, how sweet!” Helen cooed. “You got a pet. Isn’t he the most precious, sweetest little—”

Emily stiffened. “Jeeves von Hinklebottom the Third isnota pet,” she informed their neighbor in the exact same tone Lila had used with her. The stern, serious look was also identical. They both wore it too well for Ford’s peace of mind. “He has a very ’portant job to do. You can’t touch him.”

“Well, really. That’s not very nice.”

“No, it’s not. Her delivery could use some work.”

Apparently, Emily disagreed. With a pert toss of her head, she added, “He is a servistus animal. No one can pet him but me and Daddy and Princess Lila.”

“Is there a reason she keeps referencing Star Wars?”

Ford had to laugh. Helen Griswold was the divorced mother of two very imaginative, very rambunctious boys who believed the entire world began and ended in a galaxy far, far away.

“It’s PrincessLila, and she’s the dog trainer,” he explained. He also started hoisting supplies out of the back of his van, even though he had no idea where he was going to put them all. For such a small animal, Jeeves had an awful lot of baggage. People had sailed on theTitanicwith less. “Jeeves here is Emily’s new hearing service animal. Or he will be, after six weeks of intensive training with Washington’s finest dog expert.”

Helen wrinkled her nose. “Washington’s finest dog expert is a member of the royalty?”

“Oh, yes.” There was no doubt in Ford’s mind about that. A more commanding, regal woman he had yet to meet. And expensive. Even though he wasn’t paying for the puppy or the training, thanks to Lila’s generosity and a grant from the Auditory Guild, he’d looked up Puppy Promise’s usual rates. If he worked very hard and donated an internal organ or two, hemighthave been able to save up enough by the time Emily was ready for college. “We were lucky to get her. But most of the early training has to take place at home, so Emily will be out of school until after the holidays. That’s why we weren’t at drop-off this morning.”

Emily had tired of their company by this time, so she wandered off across the yard with her puppy in her arms, pointing out to him the various items worthy of note. As these included such fascinating subjects as the mailbox—don’t pee on that—the birdhouse—don’t pee on that—and her tire swing—definitely don’t pee on that—Ford let her make the grand tour without him.

He’d hoped that the explanation would signal the end of the conversation, but Helen placed her hand on his arm and adopted a low, confidential tone. “Won’t it be tough for you, having her home all day?” she asked. The question was a lot like her—kindly meant, but far too intrusive for Ford’s peace of mind. “What about your work? Your free time? Your social life?”

Ford kept his mouth clamped shut, even though he could have enlightened Helen about any of those subjects. His work as an instruction manual illustrator, done mostly hunched over his drafting desk in the kitchen, would have to be fit in around puppy training sessions. His free time had been a long-running and not very funny joke for years. And as for a social life, well, you could hardly miss something you didn’t have.

But none of those mattered. “Any time I get to spend with Emily is time well spent,” he said in a sharp voice he barely recognized.

The effect of his words was both immediate and regrettable. Helen flushed, her already-pink cheeks swelling with red, a hurt expression pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said, instantly contrite. “That came out wrong. I only meant that it’s taken care of. I worked out a full schedule ahead of time.”

Helen accepted his apology with good grace, but the damage was already done. “I was only trying to help,” she said in a small, downcast voice.

“I know. And I appreciate it.”

“I worry about you two, that’s all.”

“We’d be lost without you,” he agreed. “Dropped in the middle of nowhere without a map.”

“If we can’t count on each other, who do we have?”

“Siri, mostly,” he confessed. “And she’s not nearly as sparkling a conversationalist as I’d like. I asked her on a date last night, but she told me her lack of a corporeal form would only get in the way.”

The last of Helen’s dejection fled, and she laughed. Ford had the benefit of knowing that her usual good humor was restored, but he bit back a sigh anyway. There were times when he regretted his tendency to resort to heavy-handed flirtation as a way to handle any social interaction with the opposite sex. What had started as an easy way to maintain emotional distance in the wake of his divorce had become a habit so ingrained that he didn’t know how else to act anymore.

It worked with Helen just fine, obviously, and a reputation for playful irreverence ensured that he never sat alone at school functions. Still. It would have been nice to be alittlebit less like the village fool.

With someone like Lila, for example.

“Alexa, now, she’s a little more receptive to my allure,” he joked as he finished unloading the van. “So far, she’s got me strictly in friendzone territory, but I think I’m making headway. We cooked an Alfredo sauce last night that was to die for.”

Helen laughed. She also pulled out her keys so she could unlock the front door for him while his hands were full. It was a small gesture but a thoughtful one, and typical of the women on this street. They carpooled and arranged playdates. They shared house keys for emergency lockouts. They babysat during last-minute appointments and always, always had children’s aspirin on hand.

They were, to put it simply, a godsend. He’d never have been able to do any of this without them.