Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“What?”
“Waldo was probably carrying Moo somewhere, came around the side of our yard and got scared by our dog and dropped him.”
Jayden’s face scrunched up. “Waldo is a huge Rottweiler. How big is your dog?”
“He’s a Chihuahua,” I told her.
She gasped and then laughed. “He is not.”
I nodded. “Waldo is a big sweet doofus, he would never hurt a fly, and he loves kids. He probably wanted to play with Nate and picked up Moo to get his attention. But when Nate freaked out, he ran.”
“Over to your house, where he dropped our rat,” she concluded.
“Yeah,” I told her. “And it would be easy for him to get in once he came up onto the porch. In the morning, I leave the door open when I give the birds water, and Dobby comes out and supervises me.”
“Your dog’s name is Dobby?” She was smiling.
“When you see his ears, you’ll get it.”
I brought her and Nate into our yard, up to our front door, opened it, and Dobby came charging out to meet them. She sat down on the steps and petted my dog, and thanked him for being terrifying so that they got Moo back. Sam arrived at that point and stopped in our driveway, there on the other side of the fence, which was lovely, painted white wood and about waist-high where it faced the street, and about five feet on both sides. Once you passed the side of the house, where the kitchen window looked out, it was chain link on your way to our garage. Our yard was like a mullet, all business, picturesque in front—we lived in Oak Park for goodness’ sake—and party, no rules, in the back. I had loved our house the moment I saw it, when it still belonged to Dane, but we had made so many changes over the years, I loved it even more now.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked me.
I introduced him to Jayden and her son, and he said hello and was very glad that Moo had been recovered in our house, but mostly he was impressed that first, Chilly had heard the rat from the other room, second that he had been able to parkour his way up to the top of the cabinet, and lastly had the rat pinned but didn’t kill it, which he could have. The rat was not that big, and Chilly, when he was younger, had been a bird, mouse, and bug assassin.
“I know you’re all worried he’s going to die,” Sam said as Kola and I both followed him back inside, once we said goodbye to Moo and his family, “but he’s still got a lot of fight left in him.”
I hoped so, for Sam’s sake.
“And I honestly think the vet has her wires crossed about his age,” he said thoughtfully. “I think he’s more like twelve or thirteen.”
What was impressive was that when Sam walked into the kitchen, Chilly called to him, and the moment Sam was close, our cat dropped down onto his shoulder.
“That was impressive,” Kola said, watching Chilly rub his face in Sam’s hair as his father started up the stairs.
I started making Sam’s meatloaf sandwich and asked Kola if he wanted the lasagna.
“Yeah, but I need to talk to Dad,” he said, his eyes flicking to mine and then away.
“And you’d like it if I made myself scarce.”
“It sounds awful when you say it like that,” he told me.
“It’s all right, love. There are times when it won’t be the both of us, and that’s okay.”
He nodded.
“I’ll preheat the oven, and you just have to pop it in for ten minutes, all right?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
Once Sam came down, I pointed at his sandwich, which had leftover potato salad as well as his horrible homemade kettle chips from the deli he liked.
“Where are you going?” he asked after he kissed me.
“Upstairs so your son can chat with you alone.”
“Okay,” he said, sounding nervous.
Once I reached the stairs, Kola poked his head out of the kitchen. “Wait.”
So I did.
“How is your will set up?”
I glanced at Sam, who squinted at his son. “That’s horrible? Is that what you want to talk to me about?”
“No,” Kola told him, sounding very matter-of-fact. “But me and Hannah promised each other that the next one who was alone with you guys, her or me, would ask.”
Which reminded me of Hannah calling Sam. “By the way, what did Hannah want on the phone earlier?”
“One at a time,” he told us, looking back at his son. “Basically, if I die, your father gets everything, and the same goes for him, meaning I would get everything. If we both die, it goes to you and Hannah equally and you have to decide what to do with all the assets together.”
“Okay,” Kola said.
“Also, because your father had this written in,” he apprised our son with a roll of his eyes, “if he dies and I remarry––”