The Knitting Diaries: The Twenty-First Wish / Coming Unravelled / Return to Summer Island. Debbie Macomber

The Knitting Diaries: The Twenty-First Wish / Coming Unravelled / Return to Summer Island - Debbie Macomber


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      “No. He must be in the yard,” she said. “There isn’t anywhere else.” He was probably asleep under the apple tree and Ellen hadn’t noticed.

      The three of them hurried into the yard.

      Baxter was nowhere to be seen.

      Tim walked along the fence and squatted down to examine it, concentrating on the side that led to the alley. He raised his head and waved at Anne Marie.

      She ran over. “What?” she asked fearfully, her heart pounding as she crossed her arms over her chest. She knew what he was about to tell her.

      “Looks like he dug a hole under the fence.”

      “Baxter!” Ellen wailed. “We have to find Baxter.”

      Tim tried to soothe her plaintive cries as he hugged his daughter tight. “We will, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.”

       Four

      April 23

      Baxter’s missing! We have to find him. I want my Baxter.

      “We have to go after him!” Tim could hear the panic in Anne Marie’s voice. Ellen had run back outside, clutching the dog’s leash.

      “He couldn’t have gotten far,” Tim said. “You two go search for him and I’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

      Anne Marie seemed uncertain. Normally she liked to be in charge but she’d gone pale and was obviously as upset as Ellen.

      “Go,” he urged. “He’s got to be close by. He’s probably confused and can’t find his way back.”

      His own thoughts were tumbling over each other. Someone could easily take a dog as cute and friendly as Baxter. Or maybe he’d tried to return to the familiar territory of Blossom Street; Tim had heard of such things.

      Ellen herself felt that Blossom Street would always be her real home. The apartment represented safety and security to her and she couldn’t yet imagine feeling that way anywhere else.

      “Come with me,” Anne Marie said, decisive now as she reached for Ellen’s hand. “We’ll find Baxter.”

      “Of course you will,” Tim confirmed, hoping his words lent them both confidence.

      “He’s wearing the green sweater I knit him,” she whispered. “And his collar.”

      Anne Marie nodded. “Yes! And he has all his tags.”

      “That’ll make it easier to locate him,” Tim said. “People won’t forget seeing a cute dog wearing a green hand-knit sweater—plus he’s got ID. Just you wait. He’ll be home in no time.”

      While Anne Marie and Ellen scoured the neighborhood, Tim went inside the house. Baxter might have gone into one of the still-empty rooms and fallen asleep.

      He did a thorough walk-through of the house, checking every closet and behind every door.

      No Baxter.

      He returned to the backyard and once again walked all the way around. Still no Baxter. When he examined the hole beneath the fence, he found a piece of green fuzz. So, as he’d guessed, Baxter had slipped through that hole. He got a board from the garage and immediately blocked the escape route.

      When he’d finished, Tim started pacing. He regretted now that he hadn’t gone with Anne Marie and Ellen. He couldn’t tolerate this anxiety, and his fears, for Ellen in particular, tormented him.

      When his cell phone rang, he grabbed it so fast it nearly sprang out of his hands. Some quick juggling saved it from falling onto the lawn. “Hello,” he said loudly, certain it must be Anne Marie with news.

      “You sound mighty eager to hear from me.” Mel, and his tone was sardonic.

      Tim’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to disguise his dislike of the other man. Actually, Mel was all right, and in other circumstances they’d probably get along fine. But, in his opinion, the fiftysomething architect was too old for Anne Marie. Then again, she seemed to prefer older men; her husband, Robert, had been about the same age. This could all be a lost cause, he reminded himself, feeling even more discouraged.

      “I called to talk to you,” Mel told him.

      “How’d you get my number?” Tim demanded.

      “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

      Tim sighed; he was taking his frustration out on Mel. “Okay, I apologize. What’s the problem?”

      “No problem, and in answer to your question—”

      “What question?”

      “How I got your phone number.”

      “Yeah?”

      “From Anne Marie.”

      Anne Marie? That didn’t make sense.

      “A few weeks ago her battery was dead, and Ellen was with you, so she borrowed my phone. Your number’s on my call log.”

      “Okay.” He remembered the occasion, since Mel’s number had come up on his phone. “This isn’t a good time,” he said. “I’ll tell Anne Marie you called.” Maybe. Mel considered Tim competition, as well he should. And vice versa … Tim had ruined his chances with Anne Marie, but he was working hard to win her back, although that was difficult with Mel in the picture.

      “Is she around?” Mel asked, disregarding Tim’s comment.

      “No,” he said curtly. “Baxter’s missing.”

      Mel exhaled audibly. “Oh, great. I suppose Anne Marie and Ellen are in a real panic.”

      “They’re looking for him now. I’m waiting at the house in case Baxter comes back here.”

      “So you’re still there. I thought you would be,” he said cynically, “especially since I got delayed.”

      “Listen, I really don’t have time for this. Like I told you, Baxter’s lost and Anne Marie and Ellen are out looking for him.”

      “When did the dog go missing?”

      Tim glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes ago, maybe forty.” It felt much longer.

      “Who let him get out?” Mel asked in an accusatory voice, as if Tim was personally responsible for what had happened.

      “No one,” he snapped, allowing his irritation to show. “Baxter either dug a hole under the fence or found it there.”

      “Shouldn’t someone have been keeping a closer eye on him?”

      “Yes, probably, but the deed is done. There’s no point in looking for someone to blame.”

      “Poor Ellen,” Mel said kindly.

      Anne Marie wouldn’t take the loss of her pet lightly, either. Increasingly on edge, all Tim wanted was to get off the phone. “What can I do for you?” he asked brusquely. “I don’t want to tie up the line in case Anne Marie needs to get hold of me.” And why was Mel calling him in the first place?

      “It’s about Anne Marie,” Mel said, his voice serious.

      “What about her?” Tim could almost feel what was coming.

      “She’s dating me, not you. Do you understand?”

      “Oh, I understand, all right.” Tim didn’t even try to keep the derision out of his voice.

      “I know she had feelings for you at one time, but that’s over. I’m in the picture now.”

      “And you’re telling me this why?” What went on between him and Anne Marie was none of Mel’s business,


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