Chapter 1
Frankie was on the loose. Again.
“Mandy, dear, are you sure you didn’t see where he went off to?” Emma Keim asked her six-year-old daughter.
Mandy shook her head, the long white ties of her kapp swinging with the movement. “I was talking to Frankie about my daisies, but I guess he weren’t too interested in them.”
“I fear his actions have less to do with your daisies and more to do with the scent of pizza,” Emma said around a frown. “He’s never smelled a pizza he didn’t want.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I thought the gate was closed.”
Walking to the freshly painted white fence that surrounded their house like pretty icing on a cake, Emma examined the gate. The latch was in place. Then she noticed the beagle-sized hole underneath it.
“Looks like Frankie dug his way out this morning.”
“Oh, brother.” Mandy blew out an exasperated lungful of air. “Frankie can sure be a bad beagle.”
“Indeed.” Ever since Frankie had been a puppy, he’d had an inordinate fondness for pizza. But now that he’d reached the ripe of age of ten, he seemed to have developed a real problem of wandering off in search of his favorite snack. Honestly, one would think he was too old for such nonsense.
Emma knew she was. She had three girls to take care of by herself, as well as her home and a part-time job baking treats for several local inns in the area. She had no time to track down wayward beagles.
“One day I’m going to have had enough of his foolishness,” she muttered.
“Frankie don’t mean to be bad, Mommy,” Mandy protested as she grabbed Emma’s arm. “Don’t be mad. He’s simply a really hungry beagle.” Her middle child brightened. “Like the caterpillar in that picture book!”
“I know, child.” Gently, she rubbed her thumb over the little line that had formed between Mandy’s brows. “You know I would never do anything to hurt Frankie. Go get your sisters, and hurry, please. We’re going to have to look for him.”
While Mandy ran back inside, Emma put her hands on her hips and glanced around the neighborhood, valiantly hoping that Frankie would suddenly appear trotting down the street toward them.
But that was unlikely to happen. If her silly dog had managed to sneak a snack, he wouldn’t still be wandering the streets of Pinecraft, Florida. Instead, he would be looking for a shady place to take a nap. And because he was a very deep sleeper, he would likely not even hear the four of them calling his name.
Behind her, the screen door squeaked open with a sprinkle of giggles. Looking at her three angels, Emma did a quick inspection. All were dressed for the warm summer day: three dresses in different shades of violet neatly in place, rubber flipflops on clean feet, and white kapps on just so.
Her daughters were her heart, for sure and for certain. After Sanford had passed away three years ago, Emma had wondered if she’d ever smile again. But then she’d looked into her sweet girls’ faces and known that the Lord was good, indeed. He might have taken Emma’s husband away far too early but He’d also given her three wonderful-gut reasons to live.
All she needed now was for Frankie to stop escaping and her life would be fine. Well, as fine as it could be as a widow.
“Where do you think Frankie went this time, Momma?” little Annie asked.
“Wherever he smelled pizza.” Feeling a bit silly, she sniffed the air. “Do you girls happen to smell pizza?”
“We never do,” Lena said. At eight, her eldest daughter had an answer for everything lately. “But I think we should head to the right when we start looking today.”
“How come?” Mandy asked. “The Kaufmanns live to the left and they are always eating pizza.”
Lena shrugged. “Frankie went left last time. Plus, it’s kind of early for them to be eating pizza. Usually, no one’s ever at their house until closer to dark.”
That was as good a reason as any. Holding out her hands for Mandy and Annie, Emma turned right and let Lena lead the way.
“Frankie? Frankie!” Lena called out as they made their way past their neighbors’ houses. “Frankie, you silly beagle. Where are ya?”
“Frankie, come home! You . . . you hound!” Emma yelled in her best no-nonsense “mom” voice.
“I don’t think Frankie likes being called a hound, Mamm,” Mandy said.
“Let’s just hope he comes when one of us calls.”
Taking that as an invitation to bellow, Lena took a deep breath. “Frankie!”
Emma winced as an elderly couple reading books on their front porch looked up in alarm. “Lena, not quite so loud.”