The Puppy Proposal. Katie Meyer

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      At three o’clock that afternoon, Nic was parked outside a small pink stucco house with a very eager border collie. Murphy strained at the leash on the way up the front walk, apparently as eager to go home as he had been to escape. Nic rang the bell and tried to quiet the dog. Almost immediately, the door was opened by a diminutive woman in a teal tracksuit and rhinestone glasses. Her close-cropped hair was a shade of red that was not, and never had been, anyone’s natural color. Nearly blinded by the combination, he was caught off guard when she dove in for a hug, her short stature leaving her head resting just above his navel.

      “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Each thank-you was punctuated by a surprisingly strong squeeze. “You saved my precious baby. My sweet boy. Such a sweet, naughty, naughty boy!” With that, she crouched down to hug the canine in question. Murphy, for his part, took the praise as no more than his due.

      Finished with her exuberant greeting, she straightened to her full height, which he guessed to be no more than four and a half feet, and tugged on his hand. “Come in, come in. I’m about to open some fabulous wine that I found on my trip. You must have a glass and tell me everything that happened.”

      Nic followed, intrigued by the tiny dynamo. He knew Florida was known for its active senior lifestyle, but he had a feeling Mrs. Rosenberg surpassed even that stereotype. Besides, he wanted to find out how Murphy was pulling his little escape act.

      The house was immaculate, and filled with overstuffed furniture in shades of mauve and teal. Paintings of tropical flowers were on the walls, and a large brass manatee served as a centerpiece atop the glass coffee table. Through the doorway to the right he could see a small galley kitchen; shopping bags currently covered every inch of counter space.

      His hostess dug through the bags, removing multiple bottles of wine before finding what she was looking for. Her wrinkled but capable hands deftly wielded the corkscrew, then poured them each a generous portion. He accepted the proffered glass and took a seat on the overlarge love seat, sinking into the soft surface. His hostess’s much smaller body perched on the chair across from him as she raised her glass to toast. “To Murphy!”

      “To Murphy.” He sipped cautiously. It was surprisingly sweet, but certainly drinkable.

      “Good, isn’t it? Grown right here in Florida. It’s made with native grapes. Lots of antioxidants.” She winked, then drank.

      He nodded, not sure what to say to the winking, booze-pushing senior in front of him.

      “So you found my boy. Jillian says he was all the way across the bridge this time! I am in your debt, son—if you hadn’t stopped, there’s no telling what could have happened to him. A car could have gotten him, or an alligator! We have those here, you know.”

      Nic did know, but hadn’t thought about it at the time. Which was probably a good thing. Changing the subject, he asked, “Mrs. Rosenberg, do you know how Murphy escaped? Jillian said this wasn’t his first attempt. I’d hate to see him get out again.”

      She shook her head, neon hair flying wildly. “It’s a mystery to me. I left him locked in the house, with his food and water. The neighbor was going to let him out for me at bedtime, but she says he was already gone. If he’d been outside, I might think he dug out, since he’s done that before, but from inside the house? That doesn’t seem likely.” She frowned in thought, her bedazzled spectacles sliding down her nose.

      “Do you mind if I look around, see if I can find his escape route?”

      “Look wherever you like, son. I’ll just sit here and finish my wine.” She took another healthy swig. “You let me know if you find anything.”

      Curiosity getting the better of him, СКАЧАТЬ