Feliz Naughty Dog - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,30
in his voice.
He looked from one side to the other before leaning in to say, “Because some people from the local paper are here, and a manager from the pet store pointed me out as the culprit, and if we don’t get that puppy back…” He sighed. “Then the FBI in this place will be coming after me and not your Santa friend.”
“What?” Pru practically choked on her soda. “You mean the guy who was such a jerk and who accused you when he was here?”
“That’s the one, the assistant manager of The Animal House, heady with power. He’s putting the blame on me. Claims I was ‘distracting’ him with the RACK things while Tor pushed over the fence. He hasn’t said it was on purpose, but that’s the impression he’s happy to give.”
The injustice of it practically rocked Pru. “I was holding Tor!” She tapped the table in frustration. “I should be the one in trouble.”
“Gee, Pru, look at you. Look at me. Who do you think they’re going to blame?”
She pushed up from her seat, nearly sputtering. “Well, I am going to—”
He reached across the table and put his hand on hers, the heat of his palm nearly taking her breath away. “We are going to walk every inch of this mall and let Tor help us find the puppy. And then we’ll return him to The Animal House pet store.”
“And if we don’t find him?”
He blew out a breath. “I promised I’d pay for him.”
“We will pay for him,” Pru said. “You can’t be on the hook for this, Lucas. It wasn’t your fault. How much is the dog?”
He gulped. “Five hundred dollars.”
Pru blinked at him, the amount making her fall right back into her chair. “Seriously?”
He stood, still holding her hand. “I wish I was kidding. Come on, Kilcannon Bancroft. We got work to do.”
She stood with him, looking down at one granny and then the other. “Do you mind if we…”
“Go, lass. You must do all you can to straighten out this mess.”
“But what about your RACK points?” Yiayia asked.
“I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” Pru said. “I mean, what can we do, hand out dollar bills as we walk? We tried that in the pet store, and it only got us in trouble.”
“Wait!” Gramma Finnie grabbed her bag. “I know what you can do! Not sure if it’s a winning strategy, but…” She fished through her bag and pulled out a pack of red and green Post-it Notes, many of the pages folded.
“Your idea pad, Gramma?”
“’Tis the holiday edition,” she said with a yellowed grin. “I’ve been writing down my favorites for the whole month. You can post them all over the mall, and someone’s day is sure to be brightened.”
Pru smiled at her. “That’s sweet, Gramma, but—”
Tor started pulling at his leash just as a high-pitched whistle echoed through the whole mall. Tor barked and yanked.
“He wants to get on Santa’s train,” Lucas said. “Come on, it’s a start.”
Pru gave him an are you serious? look, then tossed another look to the grannies. “Should I…”
“On with ye, lass.” Gramma stuffed the notes in her hand. “Find the puppy. Post some happy notes. Save yourselves five hundred dollars! We’ll just stay here and wait for Al Capone.”
Laughing—because how could she do anything else?—and still holding Lucas’s hand, Pru took off with him for the Christmas train, with Tor leading the way.
Chapter Ten
Finnie fussed with the lid of her cup, her gaze down, her narrow shoulders tense. Under her chair, Gala panted lightly, then dropped her chin on Finnie’s rubber-soled shoe.
“Your mood is rubbing off on Galatea,” Agnes said.
“It is?” Finnie looked up, clearly pulled out of her thoughts, then reached down to the little dog. “Sweet lassie,” she murmured. “It’s not healthy to be quite as sensitive as you are.”
“So you don’t deny that you’re upset?”
“’Tis a complicated day,” she said, looking around. “And I’m a wee bit tired from the runnin’ about.”
“You? Tired? You never get tired.”
She gave a sad smile. “I do my best to keep up with you, Agnes.”
Something shifted in Agnes’s chest. Something that shifted a lot with this woman. Something that, honestly, before she met Finola Kilcannon, rarely had shifted at all.
“What’s wrong?” Agnes leaned in and put a hand on Finnie’s slightly knotted fingers, not surprised that they were as tense as her shoulders.
Finnie blinked in surprise. “I think the real question is, ‘What’s right?’” She let out a light, not very genuine, laugh. “‘Tis a day of