Chasing Stanley (35 page)

“They did. The therapist offered to pay them to leave.”

“I don't understand how they can live at a fever pitch like that all the time.”

“No kidding,” said Delilah dryly. She stopped scratching Shiloh. “Go lie down now. Good girl.” She turned to Jason. “Well, that was a Hanukkah you'll never forget.”

“Speaking of which.” Jason rose, fetching the gym bag he'd left by the front door. Unzipping it, he pulled out a wrapped present and handed it to Delilah. “For you.”

The gift was wrapped in Hanukkah wrapping paper, with white menorahs and dreidels scattered against a royal blue background. Self-conscious at being the only one with a present, Delilah tried to make a joke. “Well, it's too light to be gold bars,” she said, shaking the gift.

“Open it.” The excitement Jason had shown earlier returned. It was one of the things Delilah adored about him: his unbridled enthusiasm when something was important to him.

As delicately as she could, Delilah began unwrapping the present, carefully running her index finger beneath the gift's taped seams to do the least damage, the way her mother had taught her. That way Jason could reuse—

“Just tear it off!” Jason exclaimed impatiently.

“Okay, okay.”

Delilah tore off the wrapping paper with great flourish, revealing a plain box beneath. Trying not to look overeager, she pried off the lid. Inside was a beautiful leather fanny pack, much larger than the beat-up nylon one she currently used.

“Oh, Jason,” she whispered, holding the fanny pack up. “This is wonderful! Look how big it is! I can hold tons of biscuits and poop bags and God knows what else!”

“That's the idea.”

Delilah stood up and put it on, adjusting it so it properly fit around her waist. “What do you think?”

“Looks great.”

A momentary sense of unworthiness fluttered through her. “I hope you didn't spend too much on this.”

“That's my business.”

Delilah left it at that, though the thought that he'd laid out a lot of money on the present was somewhat unsettling, especially since there was no way she could afford to reciprocate.

She carefully took off the fanny pack, reveling in the scent of new leather.
It's almost too beautiful to use,
she thought. A month on the job and the poor bag would be scored with scratches and seasoned with drool.

She laid the pack back in its box. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.” Jason stood and wrapped his arms around her. “Happy Hanukkah, Miss Gould.”

 

 

“Delilah? Jason's here.”

“Send him up.”

Pleasantly puzzled, Delilah released the intercom button. The last thing she expected was a visit from Jason on Christmas Day. She imagined him in his apartment with Eric and his parents, all of them sitting around sipping eggnog while carols played softly in the background.

After so many years of living there, Delilah had noticed the city had a different feel on Christmas. The sense of anticipation that built steadily throughout the month of December was gone, replaced by a special hush unique to the day. Walking the dogs earlier that morning, Delilah actually found herself wishing for a soft snowfall to complete the picture.

She glanced at her canine house guests, all of whom were extremely well-behaved. Of course they were: Delilah had trained each and every one of them. She was surrounded by eight dogs in total, including her three. Not a few heads had turned when she'd walked them all together; but for Delilah, it was a piece of cake.

Unfortunately, Jason's surprise visit didn't give her time to change into something a little less
zhlubby
than sweats and a ratty old fleece. She decided not to stress about it; he'd seen her in her hermit wear before. When the doorbell rang, a few of the dogs barked, but most were content to excitedly scramble to their feet and follow Delilah to the door. “Sit,” Delilah commanded them. All eight dogs took a seat.

Delilah flung the door open wide. “Merry Christmas!”

There stood Jason with Stanley. And Eric. And an older man and woman who were extremely sensibly dressed. All were carrying shopping bags.

Delilah wanted to die.

“Since you couldn't come for Christmas, we thought we'd bring Christmas to you!” Jason exclaimed happily. Delilah could feel her heart wanting to drop to her feet, but she managed to halt the plummet and just stare at him. She wanted to kill him. Truly. She wanted to lure him up to the rooftop of her building and push him off. How could he ambush her this way with his parents in tow?! He knew she was taking care of lots of dogs. He knew what her winter dog walking “uniform” was. Yet here he was. Chalk up another one for Sir Jason the Impulsive.

Stanley, who once hadn't known how to react to other dogs, was dying to get inside Delilah's apartment. Though he was sitting like a good boy at Jason's side, he was panting heavily, his eyes glued to the other animals.

“Let him go,” Delilah told Jason.

“Up,” Jason said to Stanley, and he trotted past Delilah to join the other dogs. “Down,” Delilah commanded all of them, Stanley included. All sank down to the floor, the way Delilah wished she could.

“Come in.” Delilah ushered her unexpected company inside, willing herself to produce a smile meant to indicate good cheer. How was she going to fit five people in her apartment along with nine dogs? A fresh wave of incredulity washed over her; what had Jason been
thinking
? Delilah glanced at him surreptitiously. If Jason had any sense she was about to lose it, he didn't show it.

Chiding herself for forgetting her manners, she awkwardly stuck out her hand toward Jason's mother. “I'm Delilah.”

“And I'm Jane,” the tall, pear-shaped woman said cheerfully. She pointed to the craggy-faced man beside her. “And this is Dick. I know, Dick and Jane, ha ha ha. But it can't be helped.” She began unbuttoning her coat. “We've heard so much about you—more from Eric than Jason, actually. You know what a chatterbox Eric is.” She looked at Eric affectionately. “Anyway, I really hope you don't mind us being here. Christmas is a time for people to be together!”

Overwhelmed, Delilah resumed her false smile. She was dressed like a hag. A zit had decided to make a holiday appearance right in the middle of her forehead. Her apartment smelled of dog.

“I'm so sorry,” she said to Jason's mother. “I've been working today, and I wasn't expecting you so I didn't clean, and all these dogs—”

“Are wonderful,” Jason's mother finished for her. She put down her shopping bags and went to kneel amid the dogs, letting them sniff and lick her face if they wanted to. “Look at them all!” she marveled. “I don't think we've ever seen so many dogs together at one time, do you, Dick?”

“Nope,” said Jason's father.

“None of them are as handsome as Stanley, though.”

Delilah made a conscious effort not to gape as Jason's mother reveled in the dogs' attention. If this were Mitzi, she would be halfway down the street by now.

“That's enough for now, kids.” Jason's mother rose. Her black corduroy pants were covered in dog hair. Delilah cringed as she began brushing herself off.

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mitchell. Let me see if I can find a lint remover.”

“Don't be silly,” said Jason's mother with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Most of the time I'm up to my ankles in mud and cow dung and God knows what else. This is nothing.”

Up until now, Delilah's head had been spinning so fast she hadn't paid much attention to Jason. Their eyes met. With Stanley again parked beside him, Jason looked like a man without a care in the world. How could she stay mad at him? What he'd done had come from a good place.

“Now.” Jason's mother picked up her shopping bags. “If you don't mind me taking over your kitchen, my plan was to cook a roast beef with gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas. For dessert we've got an apple pie I baked last night.”

“Mom's a baking fool,” Eric offered helpfully. He'd been careful to avoid Delilah's eye since arriving.

Mrs. Mitchell rolled her eyes. “There would have been two pies, but a certain set of twins I know decided to be little piggies last night.” She regarded Delilah apprehensively. “Are you sure this isn't too much of an imposition?”

“Too late now,” Eric murmured under his breath.

Delilah looked at him sharply. “It's no problem at all,” she told Jason's mother, trying to believe her own words. So what if her table could seat only two, and she wasn't sure if she had enough plates and cutlery to go around? They'd figure something out.

“Can I help you in the kitchen?” Delilah asked shyly.

Jason's mother cupped Delilah's cheek. “I would love that.”

Delilah looked down at her sweats. “Just let me get changed first. I'm feeling a little underdressed.”

Excusing herself, Delilah hustled off to her bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a simple turtleneck. Her feelings of wanting to murder Jason were beginning to wane in light of how relaxed Jason's mother appeared to be. Delilah couldn't believe Mrs. Mitchell didn't care about the state of her apartment and the small fleet of dogs that would be underfoot. If Jason's mother could be so laid back in the midst of an impromptu situation, maybe she could, too. She quickly ran a brush through her hair, putting on some lip gloss for extra measure. She could do this—
and
she could enjoy it. Heart feeling lighter, she went to rejoin Jason's family.

 

 

“It won't be
much longer.”

Delilah stepped aside gracefully as Jason's mother once more basted the roast in its own juices before returning it to the oven.

“Smells good,” noted Jason's father, appearing in the doorway. “We almost ready?”

“I was just saying to Delilah it won't be much longer. We won't start without you, I promise.”

Mr. Mitchell chuckled and returned to the living room, where Jason and Eric were watching a football game on TV. Their excited cries incited some of Delilah's charges to bark, prompting Delilah to ask them to please keep it down. From the kitchen Delilah could hear their heated murmurings, a cabal of two now joined by their father.

Delilah never would have believed it a few hours ago, but there was actually something heartwarming about the whole scene: the home-cooked meal, the men watching football, the dogs snoozing peacefully on the living room floor. It was as if she'd gone to sleep and awakened to find herself in a Norman Rockwell painting. At first, she was suspicious. Then she realized: Yes, Virginia, there really
are
some families who don't yell and criticize. It was a major revelation.

She edged up shyly on Jason's mom, who had insisted on washing the pots and pans. How different she was from Mitzi, not just in terms of temperament, but in the face she presented to the world. Where Mitzi wouldn't even leave her bedroom in the morning without first putting makeup on, Jane Mitchell wore no makeup at all. She sported glasses rather than contact lenses, and moved with the ease of someone entirely comfortable in their own skin, even if that skin was discernibly slack in places. The same seemed true of Jason's father: Dick Mitchell was quiet but confident, with an easygoing way about him. Watching Jason's parents interact brought a lump to Delilah's throat. They were kind in the way they spoke to another, their teasing playful rather than nasty. The aura surrounding them was one of simple, plain love that some might even characterize as boring. If so, then Delilah yearned for the dullest life on earth.

Initially worried she might embarrass herself, Delilah had kept her answers to all of Jane's questions simple. But the longer they worked together in the kitchen, the more relaxed Delilah became, which is why she didn't blush and blubber when Jason's mother turned to her and asked, “Are you still mad at him?”

Delilah looked at her uncertainly. “I don't understand.”

Jane put an affectionate hand on Delilah's shoulder. “I saw your face when you opened the front door. You looked like you wanted to burrow beneath the floorboards or else give Jason a mountain-sized chunk of your mind.”

“It was a bit of a shock,” Delilah confessed.

“I knew it would be. When Jason suggested it, I said, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?' But he was adamant. You know Jason: he can be very impulsive, but his heart is in the right place.”

Delilah nodded in agreement, glad that his mother shared her assessment of Jason. “Has he always been that way?”

“God, yes,” chuckled Jason's mother. “Jason's always been a little impetuous, while Eric is always cool as a cucumber. Funny, isn't it, that they're twins and yet so different?”

“It is.”

Mrs. Mitchell sighed. “I wish Eric would meet someone nice like you.”

Maybe he could if he stopped trying to bang other people's fiancées,
thought Delilah. She wondered if Mrs. Mitchell was aware of what a horndog her handsome, blue-eyed son was. Probably not.

“Do you know anyone you could introduce him to?” Mrs. Mitchell continued hopefully.

“Let me think about it.”

“Thank you.” Jason's mother put the final pot in the drying rack and toweled off her hands. “So, Jason tells me you're Jewish.”

Delilah tensed. “Yes.” All the self-confidence slowly gaining velocity over the course of the afternoon was in danger of screeching to a halt.

Jason's mother looked embarrassed. “I hope you won't think me too ignorant, but I know nothing about it. Maybe you could recommend a book for me? Or I can ask you some questions later—?”