Daisy danced forward. “What it name, Daddy?”

No. Don’t name it. A lifetime with Bethie’s strays had taught me once we named it, it was ours.

“Lady.” John pressed his hand to the dog’s haunches. “Lady, sit.”

The dog obeyed, tongue lolling, eyes swiveling anxiously between John and the kids. Even sitting, it was almost as tall as Daisy.

“It’s very . . .” Big. “Pretty.” Black and white and tan, with funny patches like eyebrows.

“She’s part golden,” John said proudly. “Maybe collie.”

Or German shepherd, I thought, regarding those sharp teeth.

John squatted, uncurling Daisy’s fingers from the dog’s thick fur. “Not like that. Like this, see?” He guided her hand.

Daisy patted the dog’s shoulder, her face pink. DJ hung back, clutching his blanket.

“Where did you get her?” I asked.

“She showed up at the dealership about a week ago. Must have been dumped on the highway.”

My heart gave an unwilling tug. Abandoned. “Poor thing. Beth says it’s because people don’t like to turn their pets in to shelters. They think they’re better off on their own in the country.”

John’s jaw set. “Yeah, well, a week ago she was half-starved and covered in fleas.” He looked at my face. “I took her to a vet. She’s had all her shots. And she’s housebroken.”

Daisy was hugging the dog, her arms as far around its furry neck as she could reach. DJ took a cautious step forward. Before I could react, the dog’s head lunged forward. Her tongue swiped his face.

DJ stumbled back a step, his face clouding. “Ick.” Or maybe he said lick.

John laughed.

“It’s a doggy kiss,” I said. “Lady kissed you.”

DJ’s expression cleared.

“I want a doggy kiss,” Daisy said jealously. “Lick me, Lady. Lady, lick me.”

I looked from our children’s flushed, excited faces to John’s open one.

He’d never had a dog growing up, he’d told me once. Never had any pet at all. His mother struggled hard enough to provide for John and his brother. A dog—that would need food and visits to the vet and attention—was out of the question.

He wanted this, I thought. In all our discussions about getting a pet, he’d never said so. I couldn’t remember the last time John had told me he wanted something for himself.

Maybe I should have asked. Because he wanted this dog. For our children, yes, but also . . .

I leaned forward and kissed him. “What a great present.”

His answering smile made my heart swell. Three sizes, like the Grinch.

Tubes and wires anchored my mother to the bank of machines by her bed. We all barely fit inside her hospital room. But her breathing was steady, her eyes soft with warmth and love. The twins had been warned not to bounce.

“Here, give him to me.” Amy took DJ from my arms. “Can I have a kiss?”

DJ licked her nose. Jo snickered.