Page 39 of Always Almost You

Lauren hurried forward, half breathless, half relieved. “It’s obvious Pumpkin agrees,” she said, laughing as the two dogs mirrored each other, with elbows low, hindquarters high, and tails wagging in unison. “The dogs here are as friendly as the people.”

“You’re not from around here?”

Lauren shook her head.

“We don’t get many visitors in winter,” the man said. “So when we do, Ollie insists on offering a proper Newport welcome.”

Behind them, a church across the street began chiming the hour. The dogs paused mid-wrestle, ears flicking at the sound, then resumed with renewed vigor.

Lauren and the man retrieved their pet’s leashes. “All right, Ollie,” he said. “Time to say goodbye to our new friends.”

Ollie licked Pumpkin’s face once for good measure before allowing himself to be led away.

Lauren grasped Pumpkin’s leash more securely this time. “Newport welcome accomplished,” she murmured.

They made their way toward Thames Street. The shops looked like illustrations from a holiday card. Window displays overflowed with evergreen swags and twinkling fairy lights. Faux snow dusted mannequins dressed in wool coats and tartan scarves. Wooden barrels outside storefronts were filled with pinecones and birch logs. Lanterns flickered on either side of doorways. Several shops had polished brass bowls of water outside, accompanied by signs that read:

Dogs Welcome — Especially at Christmas

Pumpkin trotted proudly past them.

Lauren paused in front of a boutique whose window featured a miniature village scene complete with tiny skaters gliding around a mirrored “pond.” She peered into the shop beyond the window display and spotted a wooden sign painted in looping script: DOGS.

“Yes! That’s what we’re looking for,” Lauren said. They entered, a bell chiming cheerfully above the door. The shop smelled faintly of cedar and cinnamon. They crossed to the sign. Hand-knit dog sweaters were arranged by size on rustic wooden shelves. Christmas stockings embroidered with paw prints hung along the wall. A basket near the register held plush reindeer toys.

The owner, seated behind the counter with a mug of tea, looked up and smiled. “What can I help you find?”

Lauren pointed to Pumpkin and explained the need for something warmer.

“You’ve come to the right place,” the woman said, rising. “Though I must say, that Christmas flannel she’s wearing is pretty spectacular.”

Pumpkin wagged in agreement.

Lauren selected a chunky cable-knit sweater in variegated shades of pink.

“That’ll keep her toasty and protect her from the wind,” the owner assured Lauren.

Lauren selected a paw-print embellished Christmas stocking and a stuffed reindeer. “Is there somewhere nearby I can get takeout?” Lauren asked as she paid.

“Do you like clam chowder?”

“Love it.”

“Two doors down. It’s not fancy. They sell chowder and seasoning packets, and that’s all. She won’t be busy at this time of the afternoon, so I imagine she’ll invite you in out of the cold.”

As the shop owner had predicted, the chowder shop was unassuming. The lone server welcomed Pumpkin immediately. “Of course she can come in. We’re between crowds.” Lauren ordered clam chowder. The server brought Pumpkin a water bowl and a homemade dog biscuit shaped like a tiny lobster. Lauren sank into a small bistro chair and wrapped her hands around the steaming bowl of chowder. The soup was thick, creamy, and fragrant with thyme and briny sweetness.

Beyond the glass, snow drifted lazily as the wind gathered strength. She purchased three packets of seasoning: one for her sister, one for Kathy, and one for herself.

When they stepped back outside, the bite in the air stole her breath. The sky had shifted from azure to steel gray. Wind whipped down Thames Street, rattling wreaths and lifting loose snow into swirling eddies.

Lauren buttoned her raincoat to her chin and crouched beside Pumpkin. “I bet you’re freezing, aren’t you?” She pulled the new sweater from the boutique bag and slipped it carefully over Pumpkin’s head, layering it atop the Christmas pajamas. “There,” she said, straightening. “Festive and practical.”

Pumpkin pranced in approval.

“It’s not far to the hotel. Let’s jog back.” They set off together, their breath puffing in white clouds, with the charm of Newport wrapping around them like a Christmas ribbon pulled snug.

CHAPTER 28