Penelope in Retrograde: A Novel(64)

It’s like I’ve smacked him in the face with a pitcher of ice water. He stumbles over his emotions, until he finally settles on angry. “You went through my bag? I can’t believe you went through my bag. Actually, I take that back. It absolutely makes sense that you would snoop through my personal belongings.”

“Answer my question.”

“Unbelievable.” He shakes his head. “You’re not going to even attempt an apology?”

“For what?” I say. “You asked me to go through your bag. You knew it was in there.”

“I asked you to look for something to eat so our driver wouldn’t pass out. Not so you could pickpocket me.”

“I didn’t pickpocket you,” I snarl. “The ring is probably still in your stupid bag now in that stupid Tiffany box. And that’s another thing. Why would you put it in a Tiffany box? I mean, is Sarah so hung up on labels that you’re worried she’d turn down your proposal if it wasn’t with a shiny new ring completely devoid of personality like she is?”

“Why are you hating on Sarah? She’s been nothing but kind and gracious to you and your family.”

“She looks exactly like me!” I stamp my foot and inadvertently scare Harriet. “Sorry, girl.” I pick her up, but she wiggles out of my arms and bolts across the street. “Shit.”

I take off after her before Smith can tell me not to. Nothing bad is going to happen to this dog on my watch. I can recover from just about everything that’s transpired tonight, but if this dog ends up lost or getting hit by a car, I will never be OK. Never.

She tears through the Donaldsons’ lawn, which, unfortunately for me, was recently fertilized. My heels sink into the manure-coated grass. I kick them off because there’s no bouncing back from cow shit, but there’s still a chance that I can catch Harriet. Clumps of manure and wet grass stick to my dress and thighs. I lift my dress up past my knees just as Harriet burrows into the Japanese boxwood hedge that separates the Donaldsons’ yard from the Mackenzies’.

Her little legs are running full speed up the hilly yard. Meanwhile, my legs are running more like an old Ford Pinto. I reach the top just in time to see her furry tail dive to safety through the doggy door. I fall to my knees out of breath and roll onto my back. The sky is painfully dark and cloudy. I can’t even find a tiny sliver of the moon. The sky looks so lonely without it.

I reach for my smoky quartz necklace, but it’s not around my neck. Why isn’t it around my neck? I start to panic, until I remember that I shoved it in the pocket of my cardigan when I refused to let Martin help me put it on. I dig my hands into my pockets, but I don’t feel it. I sit up and start running my hands through the grass, but it’s useless, even with the flashlight on my cell phone. My necklace could be anywhere, but considering my luck as of late, it’s probably buried in cow shit.

“What are you doing?” Smith asks. He’s standing at the edge of his lawn with his stupid travel bag on his shoulder. “I took Ozzie back to your parents’ house, by the way. If you would’ve waited half a second, I would’ve told you that Harriet knows her way home.”

The last thread of composure inside me snaps. I go from panicked to full-out distraught in a manner of seconds. Tears pour down my cheeks.

“I was trying to save her,” I sob.

“Did she go inside the doggy door?” Smith kneels next to me. “Because unless there’s an axe murderer in the house, I’m pretty sure she’s safe now.”

“I chased her through cow shit, and I lost my necklace.” I start to wipe my tears away, but quickly realize that my hands are covered in bits of grass and manure. “And there’s not even a moon out.”

“The moon is always out.”

“Well, I can’t see it, and I don’t have my necklace that your mom gave me after we got divorced. And I miss her, Smith. I miss her so much it hurts.”

“Come here.” He opens his arms to me. “I can’t watch you cry like this.”

“You can’t hold me. I’m covered in cow poop,” I wail. “And I’m still mad at you. I don’t want you to give Fiona’s ring to Sarah.”

The moment I say it aloud, I realize how foolish I sound. I realize how unreasonable and selfish my request actually is. Fiona might’ve felt like a mother to me, but she actually was Smith’s mother. He can give his mother’s ring to whomever he wants.

“I’m not proposing to Sarah, Penny.” He drapes his arm over me for half a second before pulling it back. “Come inside with me. Let me at least give you a towel to clean up with.”

“Really?” I sniffle. “Can I go look in your mom’s writing room?”

“Uh.” He hesitates. “Why don’t you just come into the kitchen first?”

He holds out his hand, and I let him help me up. Snot and manure be damned. I’ve wanted to visit this house for years. I’m not going to let the fact that I smell like a barn ruin it for me.

Smith unlocks the door, and I almost want to close my eyes. This feels like one of those big reveal moments. I know everything won’t be exactly as I remembered it. Too much time has passed for that. But it should still smell like her. It should still feel like Fiona’s house.

Except it doesn’t. Not even a little.