Gramps scratches his chin, thinking. “I don’t know, Sass. We don’t want her to get too used to being in the house. We have to set at least some ground rules, don’t we?”

I know he’s right, but I can’t help but pull a sad face on him.

“Tell you what, why don’t you both stay out here and keep Dewey company while I go in and make us some lunch?” Gramps suggests. “How does grilled cheese sound?”

“Good,” I answer, and Macy says, “Yum.”

But only a minute passes before I hear the screech of the back door, followed by a slam. We hear Gramps calling, “Sadie! Sadie!”

All three of us (me, Macy, and Dewey) jump up and run out of the Puppy Palace.

“Gramps, what’s wrong?” I shout to him, as he’s rushing toward us.

“Mayday, team,” he pants, out of breath. “Elle and Noah just pulled into the driveway!”

“What? Already!” I shout, looking at Dewey, whose tail is pointed straight down, looking back and forth between Gramps and me.

I’m so sorry, Dewey! I thought we’d have more time. I’ll come back later, I promise.

She whimpers as I close the shed door, but underneath that I hear her say, Soon?

That whine. It’s the kind of sound that makes my heart sink down into my stomach. She barely even had a chance to be free after getting rescued.

“Soon, Dewey,” I answer out loud. “I promise.”

I hate that it has to be this way.

Chapter 22

STIR-FRIDAY (ON A SATURDAY)

We help bring Gramps’s things inside before dinner. When we finish getting everything from the car, Noah flops down on the couch and throws his arm over his face like he’s so exhausted.

“I thought there’d be more,” I say to no one in particular as we haul stuff from the front door to Gramps’s bedroom.

“It would feel like a lot more if you had been the one going up and down all those stairs,” Noah yells from the couch.

I ignore him and don’t even mention the fact that Gramps paid him to help.

“We wanted to bring back more,” Mama responds to me, but she keeps looking at Gramps. “But when Katie was called to go in to work, we had a lot less space with only one car. Sorry, Ed. We’ll just have to plan another trip, that’s all.”

“That’s fine,” Gramps tells her, his tone extra soft. “I appreciate it, Elle.”

Mama smiles and then looks to Macy and me as we open up boxes to see what’s inside. “For dinner, I was thinking . . . Stir-Friday? Hmm?”

“On a Saturday?” I ask.

“Or I could go order another pizza instead,” she teases.

“No!”

“What’s a Stir-Friday?” Macy asks.