“Where is Wheezy, by the way?” Ruby asked, mostly by way of changing the subject. She made a show of looking around the kitchen. “Did he go into hiding when I came in? Typical. He’s starting to loathe the very sight of me.”

“He’s taking a nap,” Mrs. Orson replied. “Starvation makes him sleepy.”

It was on the tip of Ruby’s tongue to point out that beauty was pain and that no one accomplished anything in life without some good, old-fashioned suffering, but her mother’s aphorisms felt bitter on her tongue. Okay, so Wheezy wasn’t what everyone else would consider an ideal example of a golden retriever, but why did that matter? He was easygoing and good with kids. He brought Mrs. Orson happiness. He went along with whatever adventure Ruby dragged him into and never once showed signs of aggression about it.

In other words, being a show dog wasn’t everything. If anyone was qualified to make that judgment, it was Ruby.

She was prevented from saying any of this by a voice calling from the next room. “Rosemary, bring in the pumpkin bread! We’re ready for another round.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ruby warned Mrs. Orson. “I think you should let the first round settle in first.”

She searched for the bread in question so she could hide it, but other than a bowl of oranges and two half-empty bottles of wine, there was nothing on the kitchen counter.

“Uh-oh. Did you guys already eat it and forget? You did that last time, and we couldn’t find Sally for three hours. Remember? She walked all the way down to the taco stand on the corner and back—and with her knee.”

“I could have sworn it was just here.” Mrs. Orson searched in the silverware drawer and on top of the fridge. “You don’t suppose Harry snuck in here and stole it, do you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try,” Ruby said. As she was of a more practical and less high frame of mind, she also looked inside the refrigerator and the bread box. There was no sign of the missing dessert in either.

A sudden fear seized her, taking hold like a hand over her throat. “Mrs. Orson, has Wheezy been in this kitchen?”

“Of course he’s been in the kitchen. He practically haunts the place. Every crumb is the potential for salvation.”

“Was he in here unattended?” Ruby persisted. This was one of the wheelchair-accessible units, so the counters were a few inches lower than the modern standard. It would have been very easy for a dog to get up on his hind legs and enjoy an all-you-can-eat buffet. Especially if he’d been on a diet for the better part of the past two months. “Mrs. Orson, we need to find him. Now.”