Linda Lael Miller - Tate

L IBBY WAS UP EARLY the next morning, feeling rested even though shed only had a few hours sleep. After driving her home and walking her to her front door the night before, like the gentleman he could be but sometimes wasnt, Tate had kissed her again, and the effects of that tender, tentative touch of their mouths still tingled on her lips.

The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon when she took Hildie for the first walk the poor dog had enjoyed since Ambrose and Buford had come to stay with them weeks before. It was good to get back into their old routine.

All up and down Libbys quiet, tree-lined street, lawn sprinklers turned, making that reassuring chucka-chuck sound, spraying diamonds over emerald-green grass. Hildie stopped for the occasional sniff at a fence post or a light pole or a patch of weedsJulie, joint owner, along with Calvin, of a surprisingly active three-legged beagle named Harry, would have said the dog was reading her p-mail.

As Libby and Hildie passed Brent Brogans house, a small split-level rancher with a flower-filled yard and a picket fence, Gerbera stepped out of the front door, bundled in a summery blue-print bathrobe, and hiked along the walk to get the newspaper.

Seeing Libby, Gerbera paused and grinned broadly. Land sakes, she said, I thought youd given up on walking that old dog. Never see you go by here anymore.

Libby paused, holding Hildies leash loosely. I was fostering two puppies, she explained, and walking the three of them at once was too much. I did manage to get the little buggers housebroken, though.

Gerbera cocked a thumb toward the white-shingled house behind her. Ive been after that nephew of mine to go on down to the shelter and get his kids a pet. Give them some responsibility and get them to unplug those earphones and wires from their heads once in a while. But Brent always says it would be him or me that wound up looking after any cat or dog we took in, once the kids lost interest.

Well, if you manage to change his mind, Libby said, always ready to promote adoption when she knew a good home was a sure thing, the kennels are usually full.

Gerbera got the rolled-up newspaper out of its box and tucked it under her arm. You want to come in and have coffee? Nobody around but me. Kenda and V.J. are still sleeping, like kids do in the summertime, and Brents been gone most of the nightthats why I stayed over.

Ironically, since she owned the Perk Up and java was her stock-in-trade, Libby drank very little coffee. It made her way too hyper. Weve got a ways to go to finish our walk, she said, with a nod toward the Lab. Hildie and I both need all the exercise we can get. Another time?

Gerbera smiled. Sure enough, she agreed, before launching into a good-natured report. Your mama called me last night and fussed at me something fierce for getting you all worked up, but I could tell she was pleased to get a visit from you and a good-lookin McKettrick man.

Libby might have been annoyed with someone else, but Gerberas intentions were always good. Hildie began to tug determinedly at the leash then, ready to go on, follow the route they always took, through several side streets, around the city park with its pretty gazebo-style bandstand, back home by way of the old movie house and the community center. I think it was the good-lookin McKettrick man that cheered her up, not me.

Something changed in Gerberas face, something that went beyond the sparkle fading from her eyes and the way her mouth suddenly turned down a little at the corners. Lordy, she said. I swear, I get more forgetful every day! She paused, drew in a breath. Her eyes were worried. You dont know, do you? And how would you know?