Lola was confident, energetic, funny and smart—she knew this about herself. What she wasn’t was pretty. She was overweight, her massive, curly black hair was beginning to thread with gray though she was barely forty and, even though she got enough sleep, she had dark circles under her eyes. She’d never quite figured out how to shape her brows right and she wasn’t good with her crazy hair so she kept it short. Short and shapeless but for the loose curls. She only bothered with makeup for special occasions—namely the dentist, the professor and two firefighters.

    But she wouldn’t mind having a male friend, someone she was really comfortable with. She didn’t care about falling in love and had absolutely no illusions about a second marriage. The last time she was in love was Dave, and that had been a disaster. But a kind guy to hang out with, a companion—that would be nice. In fact the one man who intrigued her was Tom Canaday. Unfortunately he was clearly still very screwed up about his divorce and if there was anything Lola wanted less than a man it was a man’s baggage.

    But what she loved about Tom was that he never complained. His ex-wife had left him with four kids to raise on his own and he shouldered the responsibility, took it on and got it done, was a great parent, remained positive and happy as though he, too, liked his life. She wondered if it was true, what they said, that he’d never really accepted the divorce, that his incredibly beautiful ex-wife still paid regular conjugal visits. Because if that were true, then they had nothing in common, after all.

           If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.

    —Frank A. Clark

    Chapter 6

    “WAIT UNTIL YOU see this,” Sierra told Cal proudly. “Molly, sit!”

    Molly sat.

    “Amazing,” Cal said. “Is she ready for the circus?”

    “Shut up. This dog is in recovery. She needs patience and affection and lots of positive reinforcement.”

    “What has she chewed up lately?”

    “She’s had a good week,” Sully said. “She only chewed up a pair of leather rappelling gloves that were hanging on the bottom hook over there by the door and a pair of my socks that were sticking out of my shoes on the back porch. Oh, and she got a paperback but it was ready for the recycle anyway. That’s all we know of. If we x-ray her, we might find a ton of stuff.”

    “So, Sierra has a new toy,” Cal said with a grin.

    Sierra didn’t care one bit if they made fun of her as long as they were very sweet to Molly. Everyone treated Molly like a precious gift and it was obvious in the dog’s behavior that she’d never experienced anything like it before. She was a lovable pest. She leaned against people for a pat, brought people gifts—usually one of her toys but sometimes something she’d stolen—laid her head in their laps and sometimes just sat in front of someone, anyone, and barked until they gave her some attention.

    Sierra had a new friend and she thought her adorable. That first week she’d been in a panic that Molly might wander off and get lost, but as it turned out there were two secret weapons at her disposal. First, as Sully pointed out, Molly had that special dog’s nose and could find her way back to the campground as long as she hadn’t gotten too far away. And second, Beau was only too happy to go get her and bring her back.

    Beau was doing as much to train Molly as everyone else. And Molly might be a little bit in love because she hung close to the Lab.

    When Conrad showed up on the weekend, Sierra knew word had traveled far and wide.

    “So, this the mutt you wrestled for?”

    “You watch your mouth!” Sierra said. “I don’t think there’s anything but golden in her! Do not offend her or she won’t like you. She has shown excellent taste so far!”

    Connie clicked his teeth, dangled his hand at his side and Molly wagged her tail enthusiastically and went right to him, nudging his hand for a pet.

    “She might have a little slut in her,” Sierra muttered.

    “The best of us do,” Connie said, crouching to give the dog a serious scratch.

    “Isn’t she beautiful?”

    “I guess she’s kind of good-looking,” Connie said.

    “She’s my first dog,” Sierra confessed.

    “Seriously? You didn’t have dogs growing up?”

    “There were dogs on the farm, but they were outside dogs, barn dogs, not dogs that slept on the bed. My grandma would have chased them out with a broom if they got in the house. My brother Dakota kind of claimed one of them and that dog followed him everywhere. It was all we could do to keep him off the school bus.”

    As she recalled, those times they landed back at the farm when she was very young, they lived in the bus. Her grandparents had a small farmhouse and couldn’t really take on six extra people, so through spring, summer and fall, they continued to sleep in the bus, but would eat their meals and shower and use the facilities in the house. In winter they all crammed in the house together. When she was eight and Cal was sixteen, they took up permanent residence at the farm because Grandpa had passed. Space was found, though not much more than they’d had before.

    Sierra went to get Molly’s leash off the hook in the back of the store. When Molly saw it, she got all excited, the only dog in the history of the world who was free most of the time and got excited by the leash. But she was smart and she knew it meant she was going somewhere. Beau ran to Sierra’s side immediately; he liked to go along, but Beau didn’t need a leash. “Would you like to join us?” she asked Connie.

    “I’ll just hang out with Sully for a while,” he said. “You and your little friends have fun.”