Hush, Puppy, Page 3

  “Oh, that’s okay…” But she really did want to.

  “Please do.” The other woman gestured at Destiny, who was on her knees whispering to the dogs. “The little lass seems happy here. Is she your daughter?”

  The question didn’t surprise Summer, since Destiny was clearly a mixed-race child who bore little resemblance to her fair, blond mother. Her handsome late husband had given his daughter her curls and sweet cocoa skin, while Summer had contributed little more than good cheekbones and an optimistic disposition. She wished Isaiah could see how Destiny grew even more beautiful every day.

  “She is. This is Destiny, and I’m Summer Jackson.” She brightened and nodded. “And sure, I’d love to sit with some locals.”

  Agnes gestured toward her companion. “This is Finola Kilcannon, but you can call her Gramma Finnie, and everyone knows me as Yiayia, which is a Greek grandmother,” she added with more of that radiant pride.

  “Yiayia and Gramma Finnie?” Summer smiled as she took the empty chair next to the tiny Irish woman. “Did you hear the nice ladies’ names, Des?”

  She nodded, not looking up from the dogs. “I li-li-like Pyggie.”

  “Everyone does,” Agnes—Yiayia—said, smiling down at her. “She’s old and fat, like I used to be. Now I’m thin and…less old.” She patted her face. “Thank you, Botox and salads sans feta.”

  Summer chuckled just as a server came to the table with plates, paling a little at the additions. “Oh, you have more here, ladies.”

  “I’m sorry,” Summer said, sensing that the woman was frazzled. “We can scoot to another table and wait our turn.”

  “Nonsense, lass.” Gramma Finnie patted her hand. “We love to chat with new people, and the orders are fast. I recommend the spanakopita.” She pointed at the plate the waitress put in front of her, the aroma of fresh pastry and cooked spinach wafting up to make Summer’s mouth water.

  “Oh, yes, I heard this place is famous for it, so I’ll have some,” she said without hesitation. “Is there something a little less Greek on the menu for my daughter?”

  Yiayia’s Botoxed lip attempted a curl. “A little less Greek? Why would anyone want that?”

  Gramma Finnie tsked noisily. “Because she can’t be seven years old and wasn’t raised by a yiayia. Would you like chicken in a pita wrap, lass? Plain with no yogurt dressing?” she asked Destiny, who looked up and nodded, but Yiayia rolled her eyes as she lifted a fork over her salad.

  “A gyro without tzatziki? Criminal.”

  Summer smiled at the waitress. “The plain chicken would be great, in a child’s portion, please. And take your time. We just made ourselves at home.”

  The woman, whose badge read Karyn, nodded her gratitude. “I just wasn’t the one who should get the next table. We’re a little understaffed today.”

  “And every day,” Yiayia added as the girl walked away. Then she leveled her dark eyes on Summer. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job in food service, would you? My grandson cannot find help, and this month-long Dog Days thing is great for business, but…” She looked at the door, where a couple stood eyeing the patio seating.

  “Sit anywhere,” she called, then shook her head. “I should just work the front,” she mumbled. “It’s not like I didn’t do it for years at the original Santorini’s.”

  “I’m a third-grade teacher and not looking for work,” Summer said with a soft apology. “We’re visiting from Orlando.”

  “Visiting from Orlando?” Yiayia gave a soft hoot. “Well, that’s exactly what I said when I stepped into this very restaurant a year and a half ago. Never went back to Jacaranda Lakes, Florida, except to sell my condo and pack my bags. Now I live with my best friend.” She pointed at Gramma Finnie and winked at Summer. “Maybe that will happen to you.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Summer said.

  She had no plans to stay in Bitter Bark, though she might have extended the trip if an affordable rental had been available. But all she’d really wanted to do in this town was find Travis Shipley and offer an apology that had been pressing on her heart for a long time. He deserved an explanation for why she’d disappeared and ended their unorthodox, long-distance relationship two years ago.

  Her guilt over that decision was strong enough that she’d orchestrated this whole trip and packaged it as the way for Destiny to get her dog. So, once she offered that apology, she’d be leaving Bitter Bark. If she could find him, that was.

  “Are you here with your husband?” Gramma Finnie asked between bites.

  Summer shook her head. “Actually, I’m a widow,” she said softly, checking on Destiny, who was still whispering into Pyggie’s floppy ear. “But we did come here to adopt a dog, so you better hang on to yours. My little girl seems to have a fondness for other people’s dogs.”

  “A widow?”

  The women asked the question in near-perfect unison, barely waiting for Summer to finish her sentence.

  “Uh, yes.” She looked from one to the other.

  “A widow,” Yiayia said again, falling back against her wrought-iron chair with an intense look at Gramma Finnie.

  “A widow,” Gramma Finnie repeated, like this news was somehow too monumental to handle.

  “My husband has been gone for three years.”

  “I’m sorry, lass.” Gramma Finnie adjusted her bifocals and shifted her narrow frame in the seat, as if she sensed Summer’s discomfort. “We both are widows, too, but that makes sense at our age, not yours. You can’t be thirty years old.”

  “Twenty-nine, and he was killed in Afghanistan while serving in the Army,” she explained, ready to accept their sympathy and gratitude for Isaiah’s service and sacrifice.

  “So are you looking for another husband?” Yiayia asked, making Summer take in a soft, surprised breath.

  “Don’t mind her, lass. She just can’t get the hang of subtlety, but I love her anyway. My deepest sympathies on your loss.”

  “Oh, mine, too,” Yiayia added.

  “Thank you.”

  Then Gramma Finnie waved a bony finger. “But just so ye have fair warnin’, we call ourselves the Dogmothers, and we’re a couple of very successful matchmakers.”

  “Ahh.” Summer gave an understanding nod. “The Dogmothers, huh?”

  Destiny popped up, surprising all of them with how close she was. “Fairy Dogmothers?”

  Gramma Finnie chortled. “If you’d like us to be, little lassie, we can be fairy Dogmothers.”

  “All we need is a wand,” Yiayia teased with a twinkle in her eye. “And to know your wish.”

  “A dog,” Destiny whispered. Then she leaned closer and made her expression of forced determination, the one she wore when what she wanted to say was so important, she simply couldn’t risk a stutter. “And a daddy.”

  Summer blinked in shock, and both of the other women gasped.

  “Des—”

  “So you are in the market, lass?” Gramma Finnie clapped her hands under her chin. “How wonderful.”

  “Yes, daddies are our specialty,” Yiayia added with way too much enthusiasm. “And we just happen to have a few single men in the family.”

  A warm rush of blood flooded Summer’s cheeks, and she knew just how bright that blush had to be. “A dog is all we’re in the market for while we’re here.”

  But Destiny was now looking at the two women with a little of the same gleam in her eyes she’d offered their cute dogs. “D-d-do you know where we-we-we can get a dog?” She fought her way through the question, lifting the smaller of the two dogs in her arms.

  “Of course,” Yiayia said. “Adoption Day is at Waterford Farm on Friday, right, Finola?”

  “Aye, and you’ll find the right dog that day.”

  “And…” Yiayia lightly pressed her fingers together, tapping, thinking, and openly staring at Summer. “You might find the right—”

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud, Agnes,” Gramma Finnie scolded. “Sorry, lass. You’ll just have to put up with Yiay
ia when she gets on a matchmakin’ roll. We’re three-for-three and lookin’ for our next victim, if you get my drift.”

  Summer laughed off the suggestion. “So, how long has your grandson owned this restaurant?” she asked Yiayia, hoping to change the subject and remembering she hadn’t come only for lunch, but also for information about the former owners.

  The question made the women both draw in a slow breath, staring at each other with some kind of mix of disbelief and hope in their eyes. “Exactly who I was thinking of,” Yiayia muttered. “My Yianni.”

  Oh dear. Summer had walked right into that one. “Yianni. He’s the owner?”

  “Oh, ‘owner’ doesn’t do him justice,” Yiayia gushed. “Yianni took this two-bit sandwich shop and transformed it!” She waved her hand as if it really did hold a wand and the transformation was magically happening again right that moment. “Of course, he had help from my daughter-in-law, who is a professional designer—”

  “Who is now my daughter-in-law,” Gramma Finnie added, making Summer give her head a little shake of confusion, wanting only to get back to Hoagies & Heroes.

  “Together, they turned it into this.” Yiayia gazed around with unabashed pride. “This past year, he’s slowly refurbished it into a flagship store because he’s going to franchise the brand into a chain of national Greek delis. Can you imagine? Santorini’s across the country! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “Oh yes,” Summer said, shifting forward. “And whatever happened to, uh, that little sandwich shop?”

  “Who knows, who cares?”

  Summer cared and tamped down her disappointment.

  “They leased to Yianni with an option to buy,” Yiayia added. “Which he is exercising this month.”

  So the Shipleys still technically owned the place? She leaned in, ready to ask another question, but Yiayia dug out the two leashes from her bag and handed them to Destiny. “Dear girl, can you take Pyggie and Gala back and forth for a very short walk around the patio?”

  Destiny’s eyes popped at the opportunity, and she looked at her mother for permission. “Just right here, Des,” Summer said. “Until your food comes.”

  Unable to hide her joy at the assignment, Destiny latched the leashes to the dogs’ collars and very slowly walked them about ten paces. Instantly, Yiayia scooted closer to Summer, as if seizing the opportunity to talk.

  “Let me tell you something,” she said. “My Yianni is very smart. Has an MBA from Duke and is a brilliant businessman. He’s also getting his pilot’s license and recently bought a beautiful home with a view of the mountains. He’s thirty-six years old, very handsome, and you’ll never meet anyone with a better heart. He’s the best dancer in the family, and that’s saying something. He’s very special. And very single.” She took a breath, waiting only a beat for Summer to respond. “Oh, he was also the MVP of his high school baseball team.”

  “I’m sure he is…special.” And so desperate he needs his grannie to recite his résumé and get him a date. But she did want to talk to the owner. The question was…how badly?

  “Not to hit ye over the head with a baseball bat or anything,” Gramma Finnie teased. “Get it? Baseball…MVP…” She flicked an age-spotted hand. “But Agnes is quite right. He’s a wonderful, accomplished man.”

  “I have no doubt.” Summer took a casual peek into the restaurant as if to assess his work. “So if he’s leasing, did the owners mind when he refurbished?”

  “Of course not,” Yiayia said. “They’re getting their rent. Yianni would never miss a payment. He’s a financial wizard, actually.”

  “Did the sandwich place open another location somewhere else?”

  Yiayia frowned and tipped her head. “No, why?”

  “Oh, I’m just curious where”—I might find their son—“they took all those hoagies and heroes.”

  Yiayia put her fork down and stared at her. “Would you rather eat lousy Italian subs instead of world-class spanakopita? If so, you’re not the right one for my Yianni.”

  “Agnes,” Gramma Finnie chided.

  Yiayia dropped back again, distrust narrowing her eyes. “Maybe we should introduce her to Declan, Finola.”

  Gramma Finnie gave her head a shake. “She’s not right for Declan.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you know I already have someone picked out for Declan, who is my grandson, and this young lady is…” She touched the sides of her glasses and slid them up her nose. “Not the one for Declan.”

  Summer bit back a laugh at the comedy act she’d stumbled into. “Um, ladies, I’m super flattered that you’d like me to meet either of your grandsons, but I’m not—”

  “Don’t say you’re not interested until you’ve met Yianni.” Yiayia looked past her, eyes focusing on the door to the restaurant, behind Summer. “Which you are about to do.”

  She started to turn just as Destiny let out a shriek that brought every patron to a dead silence, making Summer leap up to see what was—

  Oh. He was Yianni? That tall, dark, handsome, bearded sweetheart from the square?

  Well, now. That was a whole different story.

  Chapter Three

  “Mavvie!” There it was again—a blur of ringlets and pink shoes. Only this time, she flew across the patio, with Pyggie and Gala trotting after her, their leashes dropped like she’d been taking them on a walk and suddenly forgot they existed.

  But ringlets and pink shoes meant…

  John stopped dead in his tracks, scanning the outside dining area like it was a radar screen, seeking his target. There she was. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a look of happy surprise that he bet reflected the one on his own face.

  Summer.

  “Wow. We meet again,” she said, pushing up from a table she shared with Yiayia and Gramma Finnie—wait. How the hell did that happen?

  “You’ve met him?” Yiayia’s voice rose at least an octave with astonishment.

  Destiny, in the meantime, was practically dancing around him, her arms outstretched for his dog, making him suspect that chaos reigned supreme wherever this little one was.

  “Mavvie!” she called out.

  With his free hand, he picked up the forgotten leashes and took Yiayia’s doxies back to the table, somehow making it there before the kid tackled him to get to Mav.

  “This is Yianni,” Yiayia announced. “But apparently you already know that.”

  “Yianni for her,” he said to Summer, holding that blue gaze long enough to feel the effects low in his belly. “John for you.”

  “And Ma-Ma-Mavvie for me?”

  He looked down at Destiny, letting out an exasperated laugh. “You want to see him again?” he teased.

  “Or…” Summer tipped her head. “Rip him out of your arms.”

  Destiny giggled a little and wiggled her grabby fingers. “C-c-can I hold him?” she asked, her clarity and determination making John’s heart squeeze.

  He crouched down to get to her level and maybe calm her down before a customer complained.

  “I think he missed you,” he said softly, making Destiny press tiny fingers to her lips as if the very idea was too much for her to bear. “He barked about you a lot.”

  She broke into a slow smile, finally looking at John and not his precious cargo. “Me, too,” she whispered, making him chuckle.

  “Okay, here you go. No leash, so be careful. He does not understand boundaries.”

  “Uh, that might make two of them,” Summer warned softly.

  “It’s okay,” John said, inching Mav closer. “I trust you, Destiny.”

  “I’ll take c-c-care of him.” She dragged out the last word, struggling so hard to make her point that he almost reached out to hug her.

  Once holding Mav, she buried her face in his neck, softly singing his name. Not saying it, singing it. Which was pretty much the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

  She stroked his head and blinked up at John. “Th-th-tha…” She couldn’t get the words out.

>   “It’s okay, Des,” Summer said softly. “He knows you’re grateful for letting you borrow the dog.”

  “I love this doggy! Yes, I do.” She belted out the words in melody form again. “And I think he loves me, toooooo!” Mav let out a little whine in the highest register John had ever heard.

  Everyone in hearing distance on the patio reacted with laughs and light applause, which startled Destiny, or embarrassed her. She stopped instantly.

  “Hush, puppy,” she whispered, petting his teeny little head and getting him to curl into a ball. “We have to sing quietly.”

  “You can sit right at that empty table with him. Just don’t let him run off.” John stood slowly, next to Summer. “Wow. She’s…that’s…wow.”

  “A total disruption to your business. Sorry.”

  “Not at all.” He took a glance at a few tables. “In fact, I’m thinking she just made these customers forget about today’s spotty service. Lunch is on me so you can—”

  Yiayia reached out, grabbed John’s arm, and yanked him down next to her. “Would you please tell us how you two met?” she demanded.

  Oh boy. The grannies were clearly in their matchmaking element. Although for once, he didn’t want to run and hide. On the contrary. He settled right next to his grandmother.

  “Yes, please.” Gramma Finnie closed a much gentler hand around Summer’s wrist, tugging her into the seat across from him.

  For a moment, they just looked at each other, then both gave a quick laugh.

  “I see you’ve all met as well,” he said.

  Yiayia leaned into his side. “Summer’s a widow. Did you know that?”

  A widow? He blinked in surprise. A widow meant she wasn’t… A widow meant her husband was dead. “I’m sorry,” he said after an awkward beat. “I didn’t…know that.”

  “Then you met, but didn’t talk?” Yiayia said, crossing her arms so her elbows thunked on the table. “When? Where? How?”

  John laughed again, looking skyward. “How did I forget to submit my full report?”

  “We met yesterday in the square,” Summer supplied, also laughing. “This poor man was finishing a call, and my daughter openly tried to kidnap little Mav.”