“Maybe. They can still get the wild card if they pull it together.” Chuck positions the sugar dispenser over his mug and lets it pour freely.

“Remember the pools?” Ed sips his black coffee, winces at the temperature, and sets it back down. If he were at home, he’d blow into it, but here he just pretends he’s taking his time.

“Office pools?” Joe hands the front-page section to Chuck.

“Yeah, the betting that we’d do on the Sox or the Pats.”

“I remember the year we got to betting on the pregnant women. Remember, there were three of them at once?” Joe swallows the last of his coffee and holds his mug out to Lil.

“Hey, Ed, didn’t you win one of them?” Setting the sugar dispenser down, Chuck pours half-and-half from the little metal pitcher.

“Fifty bucks.” Ed makes another attempt at drinking his coffee. He doesn’t add that he gave the money to the new mother, one of the secretaries. Or that he never told Alice he was betting on delivery dates and baby weights. That was the bet; You had to get two out of three—date, time, and weight. He’d managed to pick the right time and weight, and was only a day off on the trifecta. It was when they were still trying to get pregnant. Alice was in a weepy stage and any mention of someone else’s success sent her into a funk.

“Good times,” Joe says, his lumpy hands embracing the curve of the mug.

“Yeah.” Ed’s coffee is finally cool enough to drink. He handed the cash to the new mother, who had come into the plant to show off the baby. He put the fifty bucks in her hand, admired the child, and told himself that it didn’t matter, them not being parents, that it just wasn’t meant to be. You couldn’t dwell on it. You couldn’t let it ruin your life.

* * *

The dog is still waiting by the cemetery gates. Once again, its eyes follow him as he slows down. Ed won’t stop, won’t turn into the cemetery road. Not for this dog, not ever. But he slows down enough to see that the dog’s eyes are two different color—one blue, one brown. “Go home.”

The dog merely cocks his ears at Ed’s words, unimpressed.

It’s a fanciful notion, but Ed thinks that the dog is waiting for someone.

* * *

Mack positions himself at the cemetery gates. In his mind, this seems like the likeliest spot for Justine to find him. His scent won’t be mingled with that of other dogs. Besides, it looks like the place near home where they go when Justine decides that walking isn’t enough exercise. It’s not the park. It’s like the park, but not the park. She puts him into a down-stay position at a spot that looks like this one, stone pillars that cast enough shade that it’s a comfortable wait while she runs. So Mack decides that if he stays here, Justine will come back for him.