Chapter 41
Mary Louise had never been big on surprises. In fact she could count on one hand the number of times a surprise in her life had been something good. Dan was still a bit of an unknown. She hoped he was the type of person who only provided good surprises.
His call earlier in the week was exactly what she hated about surprises. Come out with me on Friday night. I’m not telling you where. No need to dress up. You’ll be home by 10:00. So the entire rest of the week her brain reeled with scenarios.
He picked her up and they headed north on Mopac, the north-south highway to the west of the city. It ran along the still existing Missouri-Pacific train route. Mary Louise rifled through possibilities the farther north they got. Maybe they were headed to Round Rock for a Round Rock Express game. Mary Louise enjoyed baseball just as much as the next person after her years watching Adam play little league. Maybe they were going to the Cedar Park Center to see a Cirque de Solei. That would be wonderful. She’d seen a show in a tent out at the Circuit of the Americas a few years ago and it was incredible, especially given the fact it was done in an enormous circus tent. Then her thoughts turned dark. What if he was actually a serial killer and he was taking her to a secluded cabin in the woods where he would torture and kill her? As they pulled into the parking lot of The Anchor Bar she put that last possibility at the very bottom of her list.
As they walked to the door Dan asked her, “Have you ever eaten here before?”
“No,” said Mary Louise. “Didn’t even know it was here.”
“The original Anchor Bar is in Buffalo, New York. They claim to be the originator of Buffalo wings.”
“Interesting,” said Mary Louise.
It was indeed a bar, at least on one side. Paneling and beer signs. The place where they were seated was more like a restaurant, but still had plenty of paneling, sports memorabilia, and huge televisions. They sat in a booth, each on one side of the table. She always thought it was weird when two people alone crammed into one side of a booth.
“I went to college with a guy originally from Buffalo. He talked a lot about missing pizza and wings. That was in the days before Pluckers and Buffalo Wild Wings.”
Mary Louise smiled and nodded, studying the menu. So many wings. The waitress came up and asked them what they’d like to drink. Wine didn’t seem like a very good pairing with wings. She glanced at the long list of beers and ciders.
“Have you ever had a hefeweizen?” asked Dan.
“A hefe-what?”
“Hefeweizen. I see they have Alstadt Hefeweizen on the menu. They’re out in Fredericksburg.”
“Goes good if you’re getting hot wings,” advised the waitress.
“Hefeweizen it is,” said Mary Louise. She loved spicy food, although it didn’t love her much any more. She was pretty sure she had some Nexium in the cupboard.
The hefeweizen was surprisingly good. They ordered a few mild wings, a few hot wings, and a small pepperoni pizza. She convinced herself the terrible food choices were okay given that the wings were served with celery and carrot sticks.
As she wiped Buffalo sauce from her fingers she asked, “So is this my surprise? Eating at The Anchor Bar?”
“Nope,” said Dan without looking up from the wing he was attacking.
“I don’t even get a hint?”
“Nope. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Mary Louise accepted her fate and chose a slice of pizza. Dan didn’t seem to be in a hurry but periodically checked his watch. When they’d done all the damage they could do to the pizza and wings, Dan signaled the waitress and paid the bill.
They headed northeast, leaving the dense commercialism around I-35 to a 2-lane road that led to a somewhat desolate landscape that was not uncommon in the huge state of Texas, but that had Mary Louise moving serial killer back up a couple of notches on her list. They came to a small town and maneuvered down a few side streets in a questionable neighborhood. Sensing her discomfort, Dan lightly patted her thigh.
“Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”
They pulled up in front of a small craftsman-style bungalow that must have been perfectly charming at one point in its history. It was fully dark outside now with just a few street lights casting their yellow glow down on the crumbling pavement. Dan walked around to open her door, then led her to a gate in a chain-link fence that surrounded the front yard. He opened it and led her up a broken cement path to the front door. He smiled at her, then knocked on the door.
A pretty woman who looked to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty opened the door. Mary Louise peeked around her, only able to glimpse worn wood floors and what looked like a couch that was older than her.
“Abigail?” asked Dan.
“Yes, but you can call me Abby.”
She reached out her hand to Dan. “Dan,” he said, “And this is Mary Louise.”
Mary Louise shook Abby’s hand. What in the world were they doing here? Then she heard it. The unmistakable sound of…puppies. They entered the house, and there was a small area containing three puppies. A small, fluffy tan one yapped and jumped so high Mary Louise expected it to leap over the side of the enclosure at any second. An even smaller black fluffy one ran around in circles. The last one was a fluffy white cloud, wagging its tail and trying to stay out of the way of the other two.
“Puppies,” said Mary Louise. Her eyes were on the excited activity in the puppy pen, but she could still see the anxious glances being exchanged by Dan and Abby.
“There’s no pressure,” said Dan. “I know a puppy is a big commitment. You don’t have to take one. I just thought after you talked so much about Pixie and with your daughter maybe moving to Seattle again you might like some company.”
Abby bit her bottom lip and moved slowly to the puppy gate and opened it. Mary Louise still had no words for her surprise. The tan puppy bounded out, hopping like a rabbit around the room. The black one followed, still running in circles, yet somehow still keeping up with the tan one. The white one hung back for a minute, then trotted out into the chaos. Mary Louise dropped to her knees. The tan one lept over her. The black one decided to sniff Dan’s boots. The white one climbed onto her thighs and began licking her hand.
“Puppies,” she said again. She picked the white one up to get a closer look. A boy. He peered at her with his glassy black eyes, red tear stains trailing down the sides of his muzzle.
“He’s a malti-poo, last one of his litter,” said Abby, switching into sales mode. “He’s twelve weeks old, crate trained, and a very sweet little boy. He’s been wormed and got his first round of shots. My daughters named him Snowball.”
Mary Louise didn’t look up as she said, “How nice.” She pulled him to her chest and he nuzzled her neck, cold nose and soft fur.
“But, ah, no obligation of course. Dan made it clear you were just coming to look.”
The black puppy came to sniff her while the tan one continued to bounce around the room like it had gotten into some kind of doggie cocaine. She looked up at Dan and tears stung her eyes. “Why?” she asked.
Dan’s eyes went wide with panic. “Oh, jeez, Mary Louise. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you said you hate surprises and all, but I wasn’t sure you’d come if I told you where we were going. I just thought…shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.” He looked at Abby. “I’m sorry. I think I just made a huge mistake.”
“Help me up,” said Mary Louise, cradling Snowball in one hand and holding out her other. She stood up and handed Snowball to Abby. Then she turned to Dan. “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever had in my entire life,” she said and threw herself into his arms. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She held on to Dan for as long as she dared and then stepped back. “That’s the kindest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Then she held out her hands for Snowball.
“So…?” said Abby.
“Pack his bags. He’s coming home with me.”
His “bags” consisted of some paperwork, half a bag of puppy chow and five pee pee pads. She sat on the couch that smelled like cigarette smoke and dog getting acquainted with Snowball as Dan insisted on taking care of the details. Abby chatted non-stop, telling them that this had been her grandmother’s house, that she lives on a ranch a few miles out of town and has been in the puppy business for over twenty years. She uses this house as a meeting place for potential puppy parents.
Mary Louise set Snowball back on the floor and said, “Go say good-bye to your friends.” He looked at them, then looked up at her as if to say, “Nah, I’m good.”
They thanked Abby and made their way out to the truck.
“I’ve got one more surprise for you,” said Dan.
He let down the tailgate of his truck and motioned Mary Louise over. There was a small wire dog crate and the inside was filled with food, treats, toys, dishes and a small harness with a leash.
“Just in case,” he said. Mary Louise shook her head and smiled.
They got in the truck and Mary Louise fastened her seatbelt. Snowball snuggled close to her and closed his eyes.
Dan pulled out onto the dark street. Mary Louise used two hands to hold the puppy close, although he was so small she really only needed one.
“Thank you,” she said to Dan.
He just looked straight ahead and smiled. “You’re welcome. It looks like you and Snowball are going to be great friends.”
“Oh, Lord,” said Mary Louise.
“You don’t think so?”
“The name. Snowball. I just can’t.”
Dan laughed. “Yeah, when Abby told you his name and you said, ‘how nice’ I figured as much. Any southern man knows exactly what ‘how nice’ actually means.”
“He’s a Texas dog. He needs a Texas name,” said Mary Louise.
She started with her favorite country singers but Wayland, Willie nor any of the other boys fit. If it had been a girl, she might have named it Ann after Ann Richards, her favorite governor of all time. Then she smiled and said, “Gus.”
“Gus?” asked Dan. “That’s cute, but I don’t get how it’s Texas.”
“Lonesome Dove. Augustus McCrae.” It was one of Mary Louise’s all time favorite books.
Dan had another hearty laugh. “Abby said he’s not going to be much more than 10 pounds.”
“Size has nothing to do with it. It’s his heart. I could tell just by looking in his eyes that he’s a little character.”
“Well Gus it is.”
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