“I will.”

Sir Charles put his nose to the door into the garage, his feathery tail whipping back and forth. When Loren opened the door, he went into his usual yip and bounce and whirl and cry of delight. Loren was home.

“What a welcome, Sir Charles boy. Let me put my pack down.” Loren swung her backpack to the chair and gave their dog the rib-thumping, ear-fluffing, nose-kissing greeting he expected, all the while talking to him in their special language. When he calmed down, she took a puppy treat from the canister and tossed it to him. Sir Charles never missed a catch. “So what time is the rug coming?”

“Nate said six,” her mom replied.

“Good.” Loren reached in the fridge and pulled out the iced tea pitcher. “What flavor do we have here?”

“Peach.”

“Oh, good. Someone brought mango-flavored to work today. That was really good.”

“Did you ask what brand it was or where they got it?”

“I will. You want some?” Loren gestured with the pitcher.

“Sure. Then let’s go out on the deck. I want to kick back and put my feet up a bit.”

“I’ll take yours out. Want to bring some of those cookies? What are we having for supper?” Loren talked over her shoulder as she pushed open the left side of the French doors.

Roxie held the door for the cat and stepped out on the deck. Several birds were eating at the feeder on one corner, and two house finches splashed in the birdbath that took up the opposite corner. “It is so peaceful out here.” She settled down on the chaise lounge and sipped her tea. “Are you hungry?”

“Well, yes.”

“I thought we’d order pizza in after the rug comes.”

“Have you called it in?”

“Nope. After the rug.”

Sir Charles leaped off the deck and tore around the house, barking up a storm.

Roxie stood up. “Shoot, I should have told him to come down the alley. You go show him in, please.”

Loren gave her a one-eyebrow-raised look, but did as asked. Roxie followed Loren through the house. As she walked out the front door, Loren had a firm grip on Sir Charles’s collar. “Come on, Sir Charles. Don’t worry, Nate, he’s all bark. Sir Charles, come with me. Now!”

Nate leaned over and patted the red head. “Sir Charles, are you? What a good boy.”

Sir Charles waltzed in a happy little circle.

“Okay, now you see the real Sir Charles. You need some help?”

“No, thanks, just making sure this is the right place.” Nate went around to the back of his paneled truck, the name of their furniture company emblazoned on the side. He pulled the paper-covered roll from the back and slung it over his shoulder.

Loren held the door open. “Come on, Sir Charles, let the man get in without tripping over you.”

“Where shall I take it?” Nate paused in the doorway.

Roxie’s phone chirped and sang.

“Upstairs. Mom, you coming?”