Christmas, lassie,” Agnes said in a seriously bad imitation of a brogue. “I’ll be forgivin’ you.”
Finnie laughed, even though it was obvious she didn’t want to. “What a pair we are,” she mused, reaching down to pet Gala, who sat between them, her little head going back and forth as she followed the rhythm of the conversation and, knowing Gala, the heart of it, too.
Agnes looked down and twirled the paper rose, noticing some writing on one of the petals. She stared at it, then looked up at Finnie, her eyes wide.
“A note?” Finnie asked.
Agnes lifted the petal to try to read, but all she could see was a few words…Christmas to you.
“It’s just ‘Merry Christmas,’” she said, a little disappointed. “And frankly, after how we misjudged him, that’s being generous.”
“Are you sure that’s all it says?”
She examined the flower, but the words disappeared under an elaborate fold. “I’d have to take it apart and ruin it to read the rest.” She brought it to her nose as if it had an actual scent, smiling at Finnie. “And I honestly would like to keep this as it is. A reminder not to judge so harshly.”
Finnie’s eyes welled up. “Oh, Agnes.”
“Hey, fuhgedaboudit, as Aldo and his hit men would say.”
But Finnie didn’t laugh. She shook her head, and one of those tears escaped.
“Seriously, Finn, don’t—”
“Agnes.” She reached out and wrapped her gnarled little fingers around Agnes’s hand. “Do you realize how far you’ve come? How much you’ve changed? How soft and sweet and forgiving you’ve become? No one can ever accuse my Agnes of having sharp edges.”
Against her will, Agnes felt her own eyes fill. “Oh, Finnie. Thank you.”
“’Tis true. You’re a sweet woman, and don’t let anyone ever say different.”
“It’s not that, which is nice, but…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I like being ‘your Agnes.’”
“Well, you are. Like it or not. I’m afraid I wrecked your romance.”
“No, you didn’t. You changed my life.”
They held hands for a moment, both smiling through tears as Gala slid to the floor and let out a contented whine.
Chapter Thirteen
Somehow, the lady with the bags and two kids moved like she was on roller skates. At least it felt that way as Pru and Lucas followed Tor on a tear into Dillard’s. The crowds parted for him, but some of the people yelled at Pru and Lucas as they passed. A few people laughed. But most jumped out of the way to avoid what might first look like a runaway horse.
He raced into Dillard’s, ruffled a rack of sweaters, zipped right through a family of shoppers, and bumped a mannequin that Lucas grabbed seconds before she toppled.
“Hey!” a saleswoman hollered at them.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Lucas said quickly, then looked at the mannequin. “You, too, lady.”
Pru bit her lip and kept running after Tor, trying to watch the woman with the bags and kids as she passed the lingerie section.
“Stop!” she yelled, as much at the woman as the dog.
She did pause, but only to glance at some handbags, which was long enough for her to realize a dog was running at her. She let out a little shriek, dropped her bags, grabbed her kids, and Lucas vaulted ahead and managed to snag Tor before he launched himself at the lady.
“You have a puppy!” Lucas cried out, forgoing any explanation.
“In your bag,” Pru added, breathless, pointing to the largest paper shopping bag, from Old Navy. Just then, it wiggled, wobbled, and fell to its side.
“Mommy, look!”
Out scrambled the baby basset, who paused in surprise just long enough for Tor to let out a furious bark. Then the puppy took off like a shot, tripped over one of her ears, rolled once, and popped up. Then she right darted into lingerie and hid under a rack of robes.
Lucas and Tor followed, while Pru offered a smile to the woman. “She got in your bag on the train,” she explained, looking over her shoulder. “We’re trying to get her back to the pet store.”
“I want that puppy, Mommy!” her little girl called out.
The mother looked a little shell-shocked at the whole situation, pulling both kids back. “But you can’t have it, honey,” she managed to say, her gaze on Pru. “Please tell her.”
“I’m sorry,” Pru said, slowing to look down at the child. “That’s Buttercup. And she already has an owner, and they are very upset that she’s lost.”
The little girl opened her mouth to wail, but her mother dropped down to console her, so Pru