I was surprised they processed everything so quickly. When I was breeding, the paperwork alone usually took a while. Harold shifted in his chair.
Actually, I had ordered it a few days ago. I was just there to pick it up. The explanation sounded reasonable enough, but Ethan couldn’t shake what he remembered from that morning.
Harold had said he wasn’t even sure yet whether he wanted a puppy or a mid-sized breed. And something about Harold’s demeanor now, the way he avoided direct eye contact, the faint tremor in his hand as he reached for his glass, hinted at a discomfort that went deeper than simple social awkwardness. Claire, sensing the growing tension, gently changed the subject.
Harold, Ethan mentioned you lost your wife and son ten years ago. I’m so sorry. We understand how hard it is to lose family.
Harold’s expression softened slightly. Yes, it’s been difficult, living alone all these years. We know something about that kind of pain, Claire said quietly.
After Joshua disappeared, she didn’t get to finish her thought. Harold suddenly became visibly agitated, his gaze fixed on the window where the snow was now falling heavily. I’m very sorry, he interrupted, but I think I should check on my dog.
It’s snowing harder now, and the dog’s new. It might be stressed with the adjustment. He stood up abruptly.
I’m afraid I left it outside in the kennel, and I forgot to bring it inside before coming here. Ethan glanced out the window at the intensifying snowfall. Yes, you’re right.
The wind’s picking up, too. Do you need help bringing it in? No, no, Harold said quickly, almost panic-stricken at the suggestion. The dog’s a German Shepherd and might be alarmed by strangers.
Even I’m still getting familiar with it. I’ll handle it and come back after I’m done. Claire rose from her chair.
Of course, just make sure your dog is safe. We live right across the street. Don’t worry about rushing back if it needs your attention.
Harold nodded gratefully and headed for the door, leaving his coat hanging on the rack in his haste. After he left, Ethan and Claire returned to the table, the sudden departure leaving an awkward lull in the evening. That was strange, Ethan remarked.
Claire shrugged, refilling their wine glasses. He’s concerned for his pet. It’s understandable.
I suppose, Ethan agreed reluctantly. As they continued their meal, Claire sighed softly. Ethan, imagine if I was gone, too, and you had to go to work and take care of the house alone.
Harold has been managing all that by himself for a decade. He must be a responsible man to care so much about his new dog. He deserves some happiness.
Time passed and Harold didn’t return. The pie Claire had baked sat untouched on the counter, and the dining room grew quiet except for the occasional clink of silverware. It’s okay if he doesn’t make it back, Claire said eventually.
The dog’s new, so maybe he’s having trouble settling it in. She began to clear the table, but paused when she noticed Harold’s coat still hanging by the door. Oh, he forgot his coat.
It’s freezing outside. Ethan stood up. I’ll bring it back to him.
Claire nodded, continuing to clear the dishes as Ethan grabbed both Harold’s coat and his own before heading out into the snowy night. The snow crunched beneath Ethan’s boots as he crossed the street, the cold air biting at his exposed face. Snowflakes swirled around him, illuminated by the streetlights like tiny stars falling to earth.
Harold’s house was dark except for a faint light visible from what Ethan assumed was the kitchen at the back. He approached the front door and knocked firmly, holding Harold’s coat folded over his arm. After waiting for nearly a minute with no response, he knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing. Ethan frowned, glancing at his watch. It had been over half an hour since Harold had left their house…
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