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

“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, nor was her relationship with Mel any of his.

Tim started to pace the lawn once more, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I don’t like the fact that you hang around Anne Marie and Ellen so much.”

“Fine, whatever. But you need to understand something, too, Mel. Ellen is my daughter and I have every intention of being part of her life. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.”

“I have no objection to you being part of Ellen’s life.”

“Big of you.” This time his words dripped with sarcasm.

Mel disregarded his slight. “I just felt it was a good idea for the two of us to clear the air.”

“The air is already clear,” Tim said. He clenched his fist at his side. “The only reason I see Anne Marie is because of Ellen. If it wasn’t for my daughter, I wouldn’t be anywhere near her.” In fact, if it wasn’t for Ellen, he wouldn’t even know Anne Marie.

Just as he turned the corner of the house, he came to an abrupt halt as he almost walked straight into Anne Marie. One glance at her face, and he knew she’d heard every word of his last statement.

“I have to go.” Not bothering to explain further, he snapped his cell phone shut.

“Daddy! We found Baxter!” Ellen dashed toward him, clutching Baxter’s leash, the dog at her heels.

Tim had been too unnerved to even notice them. Anne Marie held his gaze, her eyes narrowed and filled with—was that pain? He opened his mouth to speak and realized that anything he said now would only make matters worse.

“Daddy, guess what?”

“What?” he asked, without looking in his daughter’s direction. His focus was on Anne Marie as she blinked rapidly, then turned and walked into the house.

“I met a girl named April and she lives down the street. I met her at the flower shop. Baxter was with her.”

Tim started toward the house, wanting to at least try to talk to Anne Marie.

“April’s my age, too.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart.”

Ellen grabbed his shirt. “That’s not all.”

“You mean there’s more?” Obviously excited, Ellen smiled up at him. Although his heart was racing with dread, he gave the girl his full attention.

“She has a dog, too.”

“Named Baxter?”

“No, silly! Her name is Iris and she’s a Yorkie, just like Baxter.”

“You have a new friend and so does Baxter,” he said, pleased for his daughter and worried about Anne Marie at the same time.

“April wants me to teach her how to knit.”

“That’s great. I need to talk to your mother now, all right?”

“Okay. April’s going to ask her mother if she can come over and help me finish unpacking my bedroom. She likes books, too.”

Tim hugged his daughter, grateful that she’d found a new friend. He hurried toward the house, leaping up the front steps. “Anne Marie?” he called when he didn’t see her.