Diana didn’t know what a storm window was, or where the ones for the cottage might be, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Tell you what,” said the guy. “Call Dr. Levy to make sure I’m supposed to be here. Once you tell me it’s okay, I’ll take down your screens and put up your storm windows.” He paused. “I usually put down mouse traps, over the winter, but it looks like you two have got that covered.”
Diana looked down to see that Willa had made her way down from the loft, nosed the screen door open and was butting insistently at the guy’s knee with her forehead. He bent down and scratched behind her ears, then under her chin, murmuring, “Are you a good girl?” Looking up at Diana, he asked, “Okay to give her a treat?” When Diana nodded, he pulled something out of his pocket that caused Willa’s entire body to convulse with delight. He offered it to her on an open palm. Willa gobbled it up, put her paws on his leg, and gave him her most beseeching look, with her head cocked to the right.
“I waitress at nights,” Diana said through the screen door. “In P-town.”
“Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?”
“So I’m gone Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from four in the afternoon on. If that works for you,” she said. “I’ll call Dr. Levy first, though.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said agreeably. If he’d noticed that she hadn’t told him her name, or where she’d worked, or even opened the door, he didn’t mention it. He scratched Willa’s ears. Willa head-butted his calf, then thumped down on her haunches, looking up at him with her tongue lolling and her eyes bright. The guy reached into his pocket again, looked a question at Diana, and, at her nod, tossed Willa something small and round and reddish-brown. Willa hopped up on her hind legs and caught it on the fly, a maneuver Diana had never seen her perform, of which she’d never suspected Willa was capable.
“Dehydrated hot dogs,” he said.
“What?”
“You buy a pack of the cheapest hot dogs you can find, cut ’em into slices, then nuke the slices in the microwave for ten minutes. My dad taught me to always carry them around. Even the meanest dog will leave you alone if you give him a few of these.” He tossed up another treat. This time, Willa did a running leap to snatch it out of the air, and he smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “What’s her name?” he asked.
“Willa.”
“Is Willa going to give me any trouble if I show up and you’re not here?”
“Does she look like she’ll give you any trouble?” asked Diana, indicating the dog, who was, at that moment, staring up at him ardently, with her tail wagging like a metronome. Some guard dog, Diana thought, as Willa rolled over and waved her legs in the air.
The guy smiled and petted Willa’s belly, which almost disappeared under his enormous hand. “They say that there’s dog people and cat people, and I’m a dog person. Grew up with a golden retriever named Monty. Are the fireworks bothering her?”
“Not much.” Every Saturday night, kids down on the beach would set off sparklers or Roman candles. The first time it had happened, the noise had sent Willa scrambling behind the couch, but, after a few Saturdays, she seemed to have realized that the noise did not portend any harm.
“Are you a brave girl?” the guy asked Willa. “Monty, he’d hide under the porch, every time. Come out with mulch and burrs all over him, with this embarrassed look on his face.”
Diana didn’t want to be amused. But she couldn’t stop herself from picturing it—a big, dopey-looking dog, who’d match this big, amiable guy, slinking out from underneath a porch, looking foolish.
The guy straightened. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket, extending it toward the door. “Anything else goes wrong—roof starts leaking, toilet won’t flush—you call me.”
The card, she saw, had the same logo as the truck. “Thanks.”
“Okay, then. Nice to meet you. See you around.” He ambled to his truck and climbed behind the wheel. It was a substantial truck, but even so, it seemed to sag a little beneath his bulk, and the top of his baseball cap brushed its ceiling. He gave her a friendly wave and drove away.
When Diana got home that night, she found that Michael Carmody had tucked another business card between her screen door and the doorjamb. He’d also left a waist-high pile of firewood stacked by the door, with a Baggie full of dehydrated hot dog on top of it.