Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
The older woman waves a hand. “I’m fine. I just want to find Mr. Darcy. He must be cold, and so scared.”
“Gram, this is Kit.” She turns to me. “He’s going to help us look for Mr. Darcy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kit.”
“Nice to meet you, too…?”
I wait for her to tell me her name, but she says, “Just call me Gram, like Molly does.”
Molly covers her grandma’s hands with her own. “Gram, you go in and warm up. Kit and I are going to look around the area for a while.”
Gram pulls a plastic bag from her pocket and passes it to Molly. “These are his favorite treats. I’m going to keep knocking on neighbors’ doors to see if anyone has seen him.”
“Be careful, okay?” Molly passes her grandma her gloves. “And take these.”
Her gram looks at the gloves for a second before nodding and taking them.
“Thank you, Moll.” Tears well in her eyes. “I’m just so worried about him. We were in front of that big house with the pillars that you like when I lost him. He could be so far from here by now.”
“Let’s just work on finding him, okay?” Molly’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
Her grandma nods and turns to walk to a neighboring building. I put a hand on Molly’s lower back and rub my palm in a few reassuring circles.
“How about if you take one side of the street and I take the other?” Molly asks, looking up at me. “Or should we go in different directions?”
Her eyes really are a brilliant shade of blue, dark yet vibrant, like a sapphire. I get lost in them for a second before I clear my throat, coming to my senses.
“Why don’t we go to the house where he got away and then we can make a plan?” I say.
She nods and starts walking. “It’s this way.”
“Can you send me a picture of him so I’ll know him if we’re split up and I see him?” I ask as she starts walking faster.
“Sure.” She takes out her phone, scrolls through photos, and presses the screen a couple times.
My phone buzzes with notifications and I see the two photos she sent me. One is of a wrinkly tri-colored bulldog mugging for the camera, and the other is Molly and her dog lying on a couch together, her arm wrapped around his plump body and a big, carefree smile on her face.
“He looks like a good boy,” I say, smiling at the screen.
“He’s the best. No one has ever loved me as much as he does.”
It just about breaks me when she starts calling her dog’s name, her tone a mix of hope and worry. I ask people walking past if they’ve seen him, but no one has. Molly and I are both looking in every direction, with no luck.
It takes us about ten minutes to get to the house with the pillars her grandma was talking about. As soon as we reach it, Molly looks around hopefully, still calling his name.
“Are you looking for a lost dog?” a woman asks us.
“Yes!” Molly cries. “Have you seen him?”
“I saw a dog who looked all alone walking down the other side of this street a block up about half an hour ago. A bulldog, right?”
“Yes, thank you!” Molly takes off into a run, and I follow.
“He has to be okay,” she says, panting as we reach the next block. “Please let him be okay.”
“You take that side of the street where the lady saw him,” I say. “I’ll stay on this side.”
Nodding, Molly crosses the street, little ice crystals drifting down from the sky and onto her coat as I watch her go. We both take up calling Mr. Darcy’s name as we make our way down the street.
Within three blocks, it’s sleeting. Freezing rain pelts the top of my head and bounces up from the sidewalk around my feet. I pull my stocking cap out of my coat pocket and put it on, swearing under my breath. This hurts visibility and probably has Molly more worried than ever.
“Mr. Darcy! It’s dinner time!” Molly calls from her side of the street.
It’s a helpless feeling, searching for her dog and coming up short. After an hour, we decide to split up and try the neighboring streets. With a plan to meet up in front of her building in two hours if neither of us has found him, we each go our own way.
“Hey, you look like you got a few bucks to spare,” a random man slurs as he approaches me.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
I’m soaked from the freezing rain, my tennis shoes making squishing noises with every step. I wasn’t planning on being out in bad weather, so I’m underdressed. But worse, I get more concerned about Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts as time passes.