Before we reach the Pike, I apologize for being on my cell phone in the car, but I have to call Saundra and Candy. I wish that I could get them both on the phone simultaneously, so that Mitch doesn’t have to hear my girlie squealing as I breathlessly go over the steps leading to this drive, this moment. I wish he wasn’t in the car, because I hate discussing him with my pals. “Yes, he’s the guy who got me from Cleveland Heights to Erie … well, Conneautville. Why is he here?” I give Mitch a sideways glance. “I don’t know. Just is.”

Mitch gives me a smile and keeps thumping out rhythms on his steering wheel.

Saundra is far less interested in human relations, just cries and tells me that Sambucca, her husky, sends her love to Mack and can’t wait to see him.

The Parmalees haven’t called me yet, so I call them again, leaving the same message. I’m starting to get worried, but Mitch won’t let me. He shakes his head and says that we’ll sit outside their house if we have to.

I shut my phone finally and bask in the warmth of knowing that I am within miles of seeing my dog, of getting him back. I feel myself tearing up and then feel Mitch’s hand on mine. I marvel at the warmth of this undeserved friendship.

There is one more call I have to make. I pull the little florist’s card out of the pocket of my fleece vest; “In deepest sympathy, Anthony Marcone.”

*   *   *

Tony fought with me about being sent to his father. “He doesn’t want me. You’ve always told me that. Why would he want me now?” He begged and pleaded, called me names, but I was obdurate. I couldn’t do this alone anymore. I was exhausted with living every day waiting for the next crisis, the next rebellion.

The air between us was charged with resentment and anger and distrust—on both sides. Anthony’s offer was my best chance at being a good parent. Besides, it was only for the summer, a little time to decompress and start fresh in the fall. Mr. Sanchez was right: The boy needed a father. He’d never had anyone to show him what it meant to be a man: be kind, work hard, take pride.

As good as his word, Anthony sent us the money for airfare, and the day after school let out we flew to New York. Watching Tony walk up to his father in that airport arrivals lounge was like watching the young Anthony meet with his adult self. No one could deny that Anthony was Tony’s father, and it was enough to break the ice between them. If this was going to work out better than I had hoped, it was also going to break my heart.

*   *   *