Linnea took a breath and met John’s eyes. The green sparkled with mirth and he barely perceptibly lifted his bottle in support.

“Okay, then, let’s get down to the rules.”

“What’s your puppy’s name?” asked Anna out of the blue.

“What?” Linnea shifted gears.

“She doesn’t have a name,” said Hope.

“We haven’t given her a name yet,” Linnea explained, stroking the puppy asleep in her lap. “Hope can’t quite make up her mind, can you?”

Hope shook her head, her gaze fixed on her puzzle.

“What names do you like?” John asked her.

Hope straightened, taking John’s question seriously. “I like Moonpie, because my daddy calls me that on account of I love the moon. We always watch the full moon together.” She turned to Linnea. “When is the full moon?”

“Next week. I put it on the calendar.”

“Moonpie is a great name,” said Anna.

Linnea said, “But it’s Hope’s special name from her daddy. I don’t think the dog should take it. She also likes Maggie and Gigi, don’t you?”

“I guess.” Hope shrugged and said in a bit of a whine, “But I love the moon.”

John leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Your name in Spanish is Esperanza, right?”

Linnea knew that Hope’s biological mother had named her Esperanza, and that at adoption, Cara had given her the name Hope in honor of her Spanish name.

“Uh-huh,” Hope told him. “Esperanza means hope.”

“Well,” John continued, “moon in Spanish is luna. You could call the dog Luna. Then you’d both have a Spanish name too.”

“Luuuunaaaa.” Hope rolled the name in her mouth, testing it. She brightened. “I like that name!”

Linnea swallowed her smile, thinking Hope would like any name John suggested. She looked at the brown and white dog in her lap, thought of her luminous eyes, and said, “I do too. It’s perfect, and easy for the puppy to learn. What do you think, Esperanza? Should we call her Luna?”

“Yes, that’s her name! Luna!” Hope promptly scrambled to her feet and climbed up onto the sofa. She reached out and dragged the sleeping puppy into her lap.

“Careful now,” Linnea said, worried about her rough handling of the puppy. Hope didn’t know better, and Linnea had grown inordinately fond of Luna and thus protective.

As the adults conducted a serious discussion of the house rules, Hope began sneezing and her red-rimmed eyes watered. Anna made a joke of leaning farther back in her chair, away from germs.

Linnea didn’t laugh. Growing alert, she studied Hope’s reaction. The sneezing, the watery eyes, the nasal congestion… they all got worse when she was near the puppy.

“I wonder if she doesn’t have a cold after all, but allergies.” She looked at John. “The first night I put the puppy in her bedroom, she started sneezing. I thought it was a cold. The puppy whined and cried, so naturally I moved her into my room instead. Hope didn’t get any worse, but she was still sneezing—and now that I think about it, the sneezing and watery eyes began when the dog came into the house.” She paused, reality dawning. Linnea looked at Hope and said, “Oh no. I think you might be allergic to the dog.”