Helen Louise Brady, another of my Athena High School classmates, had opened a patisserie and café a few years before I moved back. It quickly thrived, patronized by many of the college faculty and students, and plenty of townspeople as well. Helen Louise’s pastries and cakes were sinfully delicious, and I never could resist popping in for something to take home.

Another point in the bakery’s favor was that Helen Louise didn’t mind having Diesel come in with me. The first few times I took him in some of her regulars raised their eyebrows, but Helen Louise had been known to ban customers who annoyed her. If she said it was okay for Diesel to be there, no one was going to argue with her.

Rake-thin and nearly six feet tall, her hair jet black, Helen Louise beamed with joy when she spotted Diesel. “Ah, mon chat très beau.” Helen Louise often lapsed into French. She had lived in Paris for nearly ten years before coming back to Athena and to open the patisserie. “Let me find something for you.”

I sometimes marveled that Diesel didn’t weigh fifty pounds, so many people wanted to feed him. I kept an eye, though, on his little treats, and at home we had play sessions designed to help him burn off the extra calories.

Helen Louise came around the counter with some creamy frosting on her fingers and bent to let Diesel lick it off. He purred, and Helen Louise smiled again.

“Thank you.” I smiled back. “I know Diesel thanks you, too. He’s going to have to run an extra lap or two on the stairs at home, but I’m sure it’s worth it.”

“I should hope so.” Helen Louise laughed. She went behind the counter to a sink and washed her hands. As she dried them, she asked, “And what can I get for you today, Charlie?”

She made a wicked chocolate gateau, and I pointed to one in the glass case. “That will do quite nicely. And I’ll have to run up and down the stairs a few times myself.” I grinned.

“Quel dommage. But every mouthful a little heaven on the tongue.” Helen Louise expertly boxed my selection and rang it up at the register.

“Oui, certainement.” I knew some French too, and Helen Louise laughed.

“Come again soon,” she said. “You too, Charlie.”

I grinned as I led Diesel to the door. Helen Louise was charming, and her personality was one ingredient in her success.

I put the gateau carefully on the backseat of the car, while Diesel sprang into the front. My two most important errands of the morning accomplished, I thought Diesel and I might drop by the public library for a few minutes. It was only a few blocks away, on the route home.