He saw her glare at him just the way his sister used to but still had no idea what she was so wound up about. After a second, she began to speak, a bit hesitantly at first, as if wary that he was going to interrupt her again. He didn’t, and she seemed to find her rhythm, the words coming more and more quickly. She talked about how she’d found the house and how excited she’d been, and how owning a home had been her dream for a long time, before the topic wandered to Molly and how Molly’s nipples were getting bigger. At first, Travis had no idea who Molly was—which lent that part of the monologue a surreal quality—but as she continued, he gradually realized that Molly was Gabby’s collie, which he’d noticed her walking occasionally. After that, she began talking about ugly puppies and murder and, strangely, something about neither “Dr. Hands-on-me” nor vomit having anything to do with the way she was feeling, but in all honesty, it made little sense until she started gesturing at Moby. That allowed him to put two and two together until it dawned on him that she believed Moby was responsible for Molly getting pregnant.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t Moby, but she was on such a roll, he thought it best to let her finish before protesting. By that point, her story had veered back on itself. Bits and pieces of her life continued to come tumbling out, little snippets that sounded unrehearsed and unconnected, along with bursts of anger randomly directed his way. It felt as though she went on for a good twenty minutes or so, but Travis knew it couldn’t have been that long. Even so, being on the receiving end of a stranger’s angry accusations about his failures as a neighbor wasn’t exactly easy, nor did he appreciate the way she was talking about Moby. Moby, in his opinion, was just about the most perfect dog in the world.
Sometimes she paused, and in those moments, Travis tried unsuccessfully to respond. But that didn’t work, either, because she immediately overrode him. Instead, he listened and—at least in those moments when she wasn’t insulting him or his dog—sensed a trace of desperation, even some confusion, as to what was happening in her life. The dog, whether she realized it or not, was only a small part of what was bothering her. He felt a surge of compassion for her and found himself nodding, just to let her know he was paying attention. Every now and then, she asked a question, but before he could respond, she would answer for him. “Aren’t neighbors supposed to consider their actions?” Yes, obviously, he started to say, but she beat him to it. “Of course they are!” she cried, and Travis found himself nodding again.
When her tirade finally wound down, she ended up staring at the ground, spent. Although her mouth was set in that same straight line, Travis thought he saw tears, and he wondered whether he should offer to bring her a tissue. They were inside the house—too far away, he realized—but then he remembered the napkins near the grill. He rose quickly, grabbed a few, and brought them to her. He offered her one, and after debating, she took it. She wiped the corner of her eyes. Now that she’d calmed down, he noted she was even prettier than he’d first realized.
She drew a shaky breath. “The question is, what are you going to do?” she finally asked.
He hesitated, trying to draw a bead on what she meant. “About what?”
“The puppies!”
He could hear the anger beginning to percolate again, and he raised his hands in an attempt to calm her. “Let’s start at the beginning. Are you sure she’s pregnant?”
“Of course I’m sure! Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
“Have you had her checked by a vet?”
“I’m a physician assistant. I spent two and a half years in PA school and another year in rotations. I know when someone’s pregnant.”
“With people, I’m sure you do. But with dogs, it’s different.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve had a lot of experience with dogs. Actually, I—”
Yeah, I’ll bet, she thought, cutting him off with a wave. “She’s moving slower, her nipples are swollen, and she’s been acting strangely. What else could it be?” Honestly, every man she’d ever met believed that having a dog as a kid made him an expert on all things canine.
“What if she has an infection? That would cause swelling. And if the infection is bad enough, she might be in some pain, too, which could explain the way she’s acting.”
Gabby opened her mouth to speak, then closed it when she realized that she hadn’t thought of that. An infection could cause swelling in the nipples—mastitis or something like that—and for a moment, she felt a surge of relief wash through her. As she considered it further, however, reality came crashing back. It wasn’t one or two nipples, it was all of them. She twisted the napkin, wishing he would just listen.
“She’s pregnant, and she’s going to have puppies. And you’re going to have to help me find homes for them, since I’m not bringing them to the pound.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t Moby.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“But you should know—”
She shook her head furiously. This was so typical. Pregnancy was always a woman’s problem. She stood up from her chair. “You’re going to have to take some responsibility here. And I hope you realize it’s not going to be easy to find homes for them.”
“But—”
“What on earth was that about?” Stephanie asked.
Gabby had disappeared into the hedge; a few seconds later, he’d seen her enter her home through the sliding glass door. He was still sitting at the table, feeling slightly shell-shocked, when he spotted his sister approaching.
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough,” she said. She saw the cooler near the door and pulled out a beer. “For a second there, I thought she was going to punch you. Then I thought she was going to cry. And then she looked like she wanted to punch you again.”
“That’s about right,” he admitted. He rubbed his forehead, still processing the scene.
“Still charming the girlfriends, I see.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my neighbor.”
“Even better.” Stephanie took a seat. “How long have you been dating?”
“We’re not. Actually, that’s the first time I’ve ever met her.”
“Impressive,” Stephanie observed. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“What?”
“You know—making someone hate you so quickly. That’s a rare gift. Usually you have to know a person better first.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so. And Moby . . .” She turned toward the dog and lifted a scolding finger. “You should know better.”
Moby wiggled his tail before getting to his feet. He walked toward her, nuzzling Stephanie in her lap. She pushed the top of the head, which only made Moby push back harder.
“Easy there, you old hound dog.”
“It’s not Moby’s fault.”
“So you said. Not that she wanted to hear it, of course. What’s with her?”
“She was just upset.”
“I could tell. It took me a little while before I could figure out what she was talking about. But I must say that it was entertaining.”
“Be nice.”
“I am nice.” Stephanie leaned back, evaluating her brother. “She was kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t notice.”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, sure you didn’t. I’d be willing to bet it was the first thing you noticed. I saw the way you were ogling her.”
“My, my. You’re in quite a mood this evening.”
“I should be. The exam I just finished was a killer.”
“What does that mean? You think you missed a question?”
“No. But I had to really think hard about some of them.”
“Must be nice being you.”
“Oh, it is. I’ve got three more exams next week, too.”
“Poor baby. Life as a perpetual student is so much harder than actually earning a living.”
“Look who’s talking. You were in school longer than me. Which reminds me . . . how do you think Mom and Dad would feel if I told them I wanted to stay in for another couple of years to get my PhD?”
At Gabby’s house, the kitchen light flashed on. Distracted, he took a moment to answer.
“They’d probably be okay with it. You know Mom and Dad.”
“I know. But lately I get the feeling that they want me to meet someone and settle down.”
“Join the club. I’ve had that feeling for years.”
“Yeah, but it’s different for me. I’m a woman. My biological clock is ticking.”
The kitchen light next door flashed off; a few seconds later, another flashed on in the bedroom. He wondered idly whether Gabby was turning in for the night.
“You’ve got to remember that Mom was married at twenty-one,” Stephanie went on. “By twenty-three, she already had you.” She waited for a response but got nothing. “But then again, look how well you turned out. Maybe I should use that as my argument.”
Her words filtered in slowly, and he furrowed his brow when they finally registered.
“Is that an insult?”
“I tried,” she said with a smirk. “Just checking to see if you’re paying attention to me or whether you’re thinking about your new friend over there.”
“She’s not a friend,” he said. He knew he sounded defensive but he couldn’t help it.
“Not now,” his sister said. “But I get a funny feeling she will be.”