“Thanks.” She clicked off the phone.

“Sam?” Ginny’s voice was more croak than talk.

“Yes, he said he did the outside chores early this morning. He’ll come back in time for the meeting with Mike. If you tell me where the dog food is stored, I’ll feed this hungry beast and start some breakfast. You need help getting up?”

“Why? I’m not an invalid.”

“True. Just offering.”

“What if I never want to get up again?”

“Uh-huh, feels that way right now. You have quite a few messages on your phone. You want me to screen them?”

“I don’t know. What I want doesn’t matter.” She paused, the back of one hand across her forehead. “I keep hoping I’ll wake up and this is all a horrid nightmare.”

“If only we could set the clock back.” Amalia rose. “I’m coming, Spook.”

Ginny croaked the instructions. “In the pantry, the tubs are marked. He gets a cup and a half of kibble, add warm water, and let it sit a few minutes before you give it to him. For some strange reason, I cannot make myself move.”

“You can have a few more minutes. Holler if you need anything.” Amalia followed the dog bounding up the stairs. Instead of heading to the kitchen, he tore down the hall into their bedroom and came out, head and tail down.

Amalia felt herself tear up. “You were hoping to find him, weren’t you, fella? I’m sorry. Come on, let’s find you some kind of treat. Peeuw, it stinks up here.”

Spook made another round of checking every room and returned to wait by her side. When she set his dish on the floor, he ate some, made another round of the upstairs to check for Fred, finished his breakfast, and went to stand at the door to the garage. She watched when she let him out. He put his front feet on the car door, looked inside, did the same thing with the truck, and stood sniffing the air.

Despair radiated off him in waves as he lay down on the concrete apron.

“Yeah, I know just how you feel.” Amalia descended into the daylit basement and asked Ginny, “What would you like for breakfast?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ginny shook her head. Slowly, as if even that took more energy than she had. “I’m not hungry.”

“I know. That’s not what I asked you. How about toast with cheese on it? Get some protein in you, or I will fix eggs any way you want them.”

“If I eat, I think I will throw up.”

“Toast then. Coffee?”

“Fred wants his coffee first thing. He would have set the coffeemaker on the timer.” Tears started again, her whole body drooping. She sniffed and reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand between the beds.

“A shower might help you feel better.”

“No. I’ll go upstairs and get dressed.”

“Your clothes will probably smell of smoke.”

“Who cares?”

“Who do you have your homeowner’s with?”