“Bah humbug.”

“Mom.”

Phyllis ignored her.

Her daughter sighed, mouthed I’m sorry to Alison, and left.

Phyllis moved to the end of the counter where Khloe was stocking shelves. “You. Call me a car right away.”

Khloe blinked. “Uh . . .”

“Now, young lady.”

Nope. Not happening. Alison walked over there. Her first inclination was to get firm and possibly mean right back. But she remembered how Emma handled situations like this. And Ryan too. So she drew a deep breath and worked at imitating their techniques. “I’ve got this, Khloe, thank you.” She looked at Phyllis. “What’s the problem?”

Phyllis looked at her, mouth tight. “I’m leaving now.”

Alison looked into her blue rheumy eyes and realized Phyllis wasn’t angry, she was . . . scared. Anxious. Unnerved, and probably feeling alone.

Dammit. Alison’s chest squeezed hard enough to hurt, and she realized it was empathy. Phyllis was acting out because she didn’t know how else to handle herself. “I get it, you know,” Alison said quietly. “You’re in a new place, and nothing feels familiar, and you don’t know anyone.”

Phyllis looked away. Swallowed hard. “I miss Angel.”

“Angel?”

“My dog.”

Alison realized the older woman was looking at Hog with . . . longing? “Was Angel a big dog?”

“Big and sweet. He’d sit at my feet and sleep while I crocheted.” She patted the big shoulder bag she wore, like maybe she had her crocheting with her. “He’s gone now. Been five years. My daughter said I couldn’t replace him because he kept eating the furniture.”

This woman had made Alison’s life at the women’s center a living hell. She’d been mean, cranky, and demanding. And yet suddenly, Alison understood her on a core level. “Come with me,” she said and reached out her hand.

Phyllis slowly put her small, frail hand in Alison’s, and again her heart squeezed. Good God, this place was going to kill her. She walked Phyllis over to a chair near Miss Kitty. “Sit here.”

Phyllis sat. “Your music is too loud.”

Actually, that was true. “I’ll turn it down,” she said. “Hog?”

Hog came close. He lifted his big old head and took in Phyllis. He seemed to smile, and then he lay down at the old woman’s feet.

Phyllis gasped in delight, even as her eyes went misty. Very slowly, as if she ached from head to toe, she leaned down—she didn’t have to lean far—and stroked a hand down Hog’s back.

Hog made a sound that if he’d been a cat would’ve been a purr of contentment. Phyllis pulled out her crocheting.

Miss Kitty tsked and gestured with her knitting needles, clearly saying knitting was superior.

“What did she say?” Phyllis asked.

“That you have great taste in yarn,” Alison said.

Miss Kitty rolled her eyes.

“You good?” Alison asked.

“I need tea. Hot. But not too hot.”

Alison could feel a headache coming on. She rubbed the spot between her eyes but nodded. “Sure thing.”

“From Starbucks. The peach kind.”

Yep, definitely a headache. Alison pulled out her phone and brought up her Starbucks app.

“No added sugar. Gives me the runs.”

“No added sugar,” Alison said firmly, making the order.

“I know who you are, you know,” Phyllis said when Alison was done.

Oh boy. “And I know who you are.”

Phyllis eyed her warily. “You going to call my daughter to tell her I’m a menace and that she should come get me?”

Alison looked into the elderly woman’s eyes and saw resigned expectation. And . . . sadness. She let out a long breath. “Is that what happened at the library?”

“And at my son-in-law’s work. The old folks’ home too, although to be honest, I tried to get kicked out of there. It didn’t smell so good. Plus, everyone was dying.” She paused. “I have a house only a mile or so from here. But my daughter and son-in-law came to live with me when they lost theirs. Now they want me out of the house every day. My house.”

Damn. Another pinch on Alison’s heart. She had no idea how many more she could take. “Is it maybe because you’re grumpy?”

Phyllis shocked her by laughing. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

“A saint?”

“Myself, when I was your age.”

Sounded about right. “Look, no one’s going to call you a menace or kick you out of here,” Alison said.

“Of course not.” This was from Dale, who’d moved close, dragging a chair over for himself. “Plus, they need us,” he told Phyllis in a conspirator’s voice. “The new owners are wonderful, but they don’t know much.”

“Hey,” Alison said on principle.

Ignoring that, Dale smiled at Phyllis. “They think we’re guests, but the truth is, we’re working. We’re soothing their animals. They need us.”

Phyllis looked at Alison for confirmation, clearly knowing that she of all people wouldn’t bullshit her.

Alison shrugged. “It’s true.”

Phyllis nodded and seemed to relax.

Alison turned to head to the front counter to ask Khloe to go pick up Phyllis’s tea. Leaning against it, taking in every word, was Ryan. He was watching her with a new look in his eyes, one she couldn’t quite place. She really hoped it was lust.

Reaching out, he gently tugged on a strand of her hair. Affection, she realized, her heart tripping. He was looking at her with respect, which was somehow even better. “Where were we?” she whispered.

“You asked what you could bring to the barbecue.”

“Yes,” she said. “Anything. Name it.”

He smiled. “Just you.”

Chapter 22

Step 22: Suspend your ego.

Emma marveled at how fast the time went. Starting her own business—well, half her own, anyway—had been exhausting, stressful, and . . . exhilarating. It was the end of the day and she and Hog were climbing the stairs to her apartment. As always, she counted, but she no longer had to stop to catch her breath.

She was probably almost ready to start running. Not that she’d tested the theory. In fact, she hadn’t expanded her horizons by more than the three-quarters of a mile she’d been walking daily from Paw Pals to go by Jack’s place, hoping for another chance at possibly talking to him, since she’d blown it the last two times by freezing.