Page 158 of The New Place

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just—that’s pretty expensive.”

“Do you need to think about it?”

“I, um…” It’s Baxter. There’s no question involved. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Okay,” she says gently. “I’ll fill this for you, and you can pick it up anytime that’s convenient.”

The medication being free would be convenient. Don’t, Ned can’t bring himself to say. Of course he’ll pick up the pills and pay for them. He will. He has to.

But how?

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

He has a job. Until the end of the semester, he’ll get his usual paychecks. Can he teach at Newbury over the summer? He’ll have to ask, or look into picking up some courses somewhere other than Adams. Either way, in August, he’ll be fully employed again, so maybe there’s a little hiccup there for a couple weeks—months, he tries not to think—but the yawning maw of unemployment is no longer filling his future.

And still. Those pills are nearly another car payment every month, or what he pays for his student loans. And that’s before trying to pay down his credit card, or even dream of funneling any money toward savings.

But what else is Ned going to do? Make a decision that means Baxter won’t be here? Baxter’s always here. He was here before Peggy, and he’s been here ever since. He was here when Jen left and when Abbot showed up in his life, and he’s supposed to keep being here forever.

It’s treatable. That’s good news. It’s not some horrible tumor that means Ned will say goodbye to him within months, or even weeks like he’s so feared. He doesn’t have to have the conversation with Peggy he’s been trying to ignore, doesn’t have to face the thought of buying Baxter a steak and taking him to his favorite park one last time, for one last good day.

“Buddy,” he whispers and hauls Baxter up onto the bed next to him. Yeah, he doesn’t smell great, and his coat has been grimy lately no matter how much Ned washes him, but Ned puts his face in his fur all the same.

The money will have to come from somewhere. Teach extra courses online, if Newbury will let him. Scrounge up some grant funding. What, write a damn textbook? With all the free time he doesn’t have, trying to work toward tenure and show up for Peggy on his days with her?

At least he won’t have to drive to Portland all the time. That’s some hours he’ll get back, which he’d much rather spend with Abbot, not buried in his computer.

His phone buzzes and he reaches for it, hoping for a text from Claire that says Just kidding! It’s not, of course, but a text from Steve to him and Abbot both, with an address.

Right. Dinner. With Steve and Abbot and Liesl, and Peggy, who he has to go pick up.

In a hurry too, his watch tells him. “You’ll be okay,” Ned tells Baxter, giving him a good scratch behind his ears, and then turning quickly, as if the dog can see the regret on his face.

He can’t. He’s a dog.

He’s Baxter, and of course Ned will pay whatever it takes.

Except—oh. Oh. Peggy. Summer camp. She wants to go so badly.

And his parents renting their house out, so he apparently has to be gone.

Great fucking timing.

But he’ll worry about that later, because now he has to hurry to his car, drive to Peggy’s school, and then ask his phone for directions to Steve’s.

Which lead him to…his own neighborhood? Back along the path he and Pat used to walk to school, and then past the school itself, the route taking him into the nest of houses on the other side. They’re not too far from Jen’s when Ned parks, and he glances in the rearview mirror to see if Peggy recognizes the street, but she’s struggling with her seatbelt.

“There’s Liesl,” she says, and the moment Ned lets her out, she scrambles down from her booster seat.

Ned’s been here before. This sidewalk, with roots growing through the concrete, and the trees hanging over the street, the neat row of tidy, compact front lawns with their mailboxes, and houses with cheerful front porches.

Liesl is kneeling on one of them, letting a golden retriever lick her chin, and Peggy wastes no time charging up the steps to join her.

“Woah, woah,” Ned says, jogging after her. “Remember, Pegs, always ask to pet a dog.”

“Liesl already is,” Peggy says with all of her first-grader logic, and sure enough, the worst thing that happens to her is a lick at her cheeks too.

“This is Luna,” Liesl says and looks up at him.