the sweaters carefully in the bottom drawer of Teddy’s dresser and made a silent promise to myself and my aunt: no matter what happened, I would always love Teddy. Just like Calpurnia had.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I woke up to find myself clinging to the edge of the mattress like a mountain climber taking refuge on the ledge of a treacherous crevasse. Another inch and I’d have plummeted into the void.
“How can a fourteen-pound dog take up eighty percent of a queen-sized bed?” I scooted backward, pushing my backside against the warm, seemingly immovable lump that lay behind me until I gained enough space to turn over. Pebbles opened one eye and thumped her tail, then uncurled her body and got to her feet, yawning and stretching briefly before moving toward the pillow to lick my nose.
“I’m serious: you really don’t have to do that.” How many times did I have to tell her?
For reasons that were unclear to me, Pebbles had decided that my bed was the place she absolutely had to sleep every night. And for reasons that were even less clear to me, I allowed it. But what else could I do? She was so desperately cute.
Cuteness, I had concluded, was a dog’s natural protection. Like camouflage for lizards or venom for snakes, irresistible cuteness was what dogs used to keep dangerous predators, such as irritated humans, from killing them.
I raised my arms over my head and stretched, feeling a satisfying ache in my shoulder blades. Pris and I had cleared the last of the boxes downstairs the day before, including two that had been filled with old cast-iron cookware. Most were so pitted or cracked that they weren’t good for anything but the dumpster, but a few were in good condition. After some online research, Pris said she thought they’d bring in somewhere between one hundred fifty and two hundred dollars. That was good news, as was the fact that those skillets were the last pieces of merchandise to be salvaged from Calpurnia’s hoard. Yes, I’d probably held on to more than was strictly sensible—Marie Kondo wouldn’t have given me a gold star—but the house was habitable at last and the hoard was gone. Later that afternoon, the dumpster would be gone too. We’d have a smaller one to accommodate debris from the ongoing construction, but the big behemoth that had been filled and emptied and refilled countless times in the previous six weeks would be gone by lunchtime, which meant we could finally start working on the garden. Teddy was eager to begin.
I sat up in bed. Pebbles took this as a sign that the day had commenced, which could only mean that Exciting Things were about to happen, like Breakfast and a Morning Wee. She started bouncing and wriggling with an enthusiasm that was disproportionate and slightly alarming. Pebbles was full-grown and house-trained, I knew that, but all that bouncing and wriggling made me worry that she might take her Morning Wee a little early. I climbed out of bed and scooped up the pup, tucking her under my left arm.
“Teddy, are you up?”
His voice boomed through the stairwell from the ground floor. “Uh-huh. I’m supposed to open this morning.”
I walked to the banister and looked over the edge. Teddy was standing there, wearing his Bitty and Beau’s uniform. Bug was standing at his feet, gazing up at Teddy’s face with obvious adoration.
“Made some cinnamon toast,” he said. “You want some?”
“Maybe later, thanks. Could you take Pebbles out before you leave? I think she needs to go.”
“Sure thing.”
I walked to the top of the staircase and put Pebbles down. Teddy whistled and patted his leg. The dog flung herself from the landing, bounded down the stairs, then leapt into the air and Teddy’s outstretched arms.
Jumping into people’s arms was Pebbles’s party trick. She did it all the time, often with no warning. It was kind of impressive, but only if the human she flung herself at understood their role in the performance. The first time she tried it with me, I was unprepared. Rather than open my arms to catch her, I put them in front of my face to shield myself from the incoming furry projectile. Pebbles bounced off my chest and onto the floor, where she looked up at me with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. I felt so bad about it that I gave her half my scrambled eggs at breakfast.
That was two weeks ago. Teddy had settled in now and so had