Feliz Naughty Dog - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,12
help you,” Lucas said, crouching down to get next to her.
Pru glanced at him, a little color rising in her cheeks. “Oh, that’s…” Their hands bumped as they both reached for some papers, making both of them jerk back, and Agnes could have sworn the lights flickered from the bolt of electricity in the room.
“Is this it?” Lucas asked, holding out a brightly colored piece of paper with a glittery red border Agnes recognized as the stationery Pru’s mother used for her holiday letters. He shook it a little, raining red sparkles on the ground. “Whoa. The glitter bomb has exploded.”
Pru gave a self-conscious laugh. “What can I say? I like Christmas.”
He waved the paper, and more red flakes danced through the air like fairy dust around both of them.
Agnes slid a look at Finnie, who was watching them, fighting a smile.
“Let’s go,” Agnes mouthed, giving her a nudge toward the door. “They’re fine.”
“So fine,” Finnie agreed, but hesitated long enough for the big dog to sit up and snap at the sparkly paper, digging his teeth right into it, then flipping his head from side to side like he had a glittery mouse in his jaws instead of Pru’s paper.
“Oh no!” Pru cried.
“Tor!” Lucas reached for the paper, tearing it out of his mouth, but the dog held tight to his half, chewing it like the sparkles were made of bacon.
“Good heavens!” Finnie exclaimed. “He does need some training.”
The boy’s shoulders fell. “I know, I’m really…” He swallowed, as if sorry wouldn’t cut it.
“That was my only list,” Pru said softly.
Tor stared at her, chewing.
“We can save this,” Lucas assured her, spreading the half page on the floor with one hand and sticking his finger in Tor’s mouth to try to get the other half out. Instantly, Pyggie waddled over with his I’ll have what that dog’s having face.
“No, no,” Lucas and Pru said in unison, while Agnes tugged his leash. Immediately, Gala barked in horror, sensing the chaos in the air.
Pru let out a sigh like she sensed it, too. “Go on, Yiayia,” she finally said. “Gala’s upset. We’ll meet you at Santa’s Workshop in a little bit. This could take a while.”
She nodded her thanks and gave Finnie another nudge. “Let’s go, Finn.”
Once again, Finnie hesitated, looking down at Pru. “Call me if you need anything, lass.”
“You call me,” Pru said. “And don’t have fun without me, Dogmothers!”
With a quick wave, Finnie turned and hustled along with Agnes.
“Sweet Saint Patrick there’s a little chemistry between those two.”
Agnes grinned. “We’re getting really good at this matchmaking.”
“But ye see she’s torn and wants to be with us.” Finnie sighed. “My dear Prudence, on the precipice of womanhood, but still a wee lass.”
“She’s not wee. She’s sixteen and could use a little male attention,” Agnes replied, tugging Finnie into the bustling mall with Gala and Pyggie leading them on. “And so could I, so move it, Finola Kilcannon.”
Finnie clucked as they threaded their way through the throngs of shoppers, past a group of carolers belting out Joy to the World, and spent some time detained by a ten-car train on its way to Santa’s Workshop outside the food court. The only time they voluntarily slowed was to check out the contained, AstroTurfed play area for dogs, which had plenty of pups running around.
“Maybe that rambunctious dog could run off some of his energy in here,” Finnie mused.
“Except he’d jump the fence, eat the decorations, and scare the poor little ones half to death.”
Finnie laughed. “The boy loves him, though.”
“I can see that,” Agnes agreed.
“I always say you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his dog.”
“I thought you always say it’s how he treats his kids.” Agnes stood on her toes to see over the crowd, spotting the Santa’s Workshop sign and a massive tree draped in gold and red. “There he is! Santa!”
A woman walking by shot her a surprised and somewhat disgusted look.
“What’s her problem?” Agnes muttered.
“You’re never too old for Santa!” Finnie called out as the woman walked away.
Agnes squeezed her friend’s arm. “God, I love you, Finnie.”
In front of them, Gala pranced a little, always in tune with a rise in excitement. She must have known Agnes’s heart was pounding as they got closer.
“He’s over there, on the other side,” Finnie said. “Facing the food court. Let’s get ourselves situated at a table, and we can watch him in action.”
“Good plan, but can we just walk by first? Not too close, although