“That’s good,” Ethan said. “Having an overarching narrative structure will raise the bar. Every performance is better if it tells a story.”

“Plus,” June said, “maybe it will inspire some of the families to think about adopting a pet. Adopting Wrinkles from the Marshbury Animal Shelter was like the most incredible thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. She’s my best friend.”

I flashed back to my not-so-long ago dating days when I’d borrowed June’s adorable adopted shar pei-Lab cross puppy. Essentially Wrinkles was bait for meeting this guy who’d adopted a puppy named Creases from the same litter. Wrinkles and Creases were perfect together—the guy and me, not so much.

I thought about John and his stupid designer dog fantasy. Put that out of my mind, too.

“Maybe,” Polly said, “we could ask the shelter to bring some adoptable dogs and cats to the performance—”

“That’s a great idea,” I said. “Or even pictures of adoptable dogs and cats to hang up, if we can’t get approval for the real thing.”

“We just won’t ask,” Lorna said. “We’ll say we thought somebody else on the committee was in charge of getting permission.” Lorna crossed her arms in front of her and pointed her index fingers in opposite directions.

We all imitated her, crossing our arms and pointing at each other.

“By the time our bitch of a boss pitches a hissy fit,” Lorna said, “we’ll be practically out the door for vacation.”

I nodded as I tried to imagine it going that easily.

Ethan looked at me. “We need a title to put on the program, right? Any thoughts?”

A wave of shyness broke over me. It was so hard to put yourself out there creatively, even in front of teaching colleagues you liked, who were friends, even when it was something as small in the scheme of things as a preschool performance.

I took a deep breath. “I was thinking maybe we could call it A Howliday Tail. You know, H-O-W-L and T-A-I-L.”

There was dead silence. An embarrassing dead silence.

And then everybody started howling like coyotes under a full moon.

“I’d say that’s unanimous,” Ethan said. “Four paws up for A Howliday Tail.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time I got home, Joe and his crew were gone for the day. The absence of hammers and nail guns was heavenly, a soothing hush all its own.

In my head, Simon and Garfunkel serenaded me with “The Sound of Silence” as I crept softly up the stairs to check out the progress.

John was standing in our future master suite, running his hand over the new drywall.

“Looks good,” I said.

“We’re getting there,” John said. “Joe says he’ll definitely have us moved in before Christmas.”

“That would be great. Listen, I’m really sorry we haven’t been getting along.”