Earlier in the day, Mark stopped by the bank to deposit Muffy in Michelle's arms.  Michelle was shocked to find out that Mark's mother bequeathed Muffy to her.

It was hard to believe a dog could cry but that's what I imagined she was doing.  I was out of my element with what to do.  I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.  "I'm a bank manager.  I know numbers, not dogs and if you don't stop this crying I'll be able to tell you how many days you have left to live."

Muffy whined louder. "I was only joking."  I looked at the open window.  I was certain someone was going to call the police on me.  The neighbors probably thought I was beating the poor defenseless dog.  I could see the headlines in the paper now—"Mild-mannered bank manager arrested for abusing small dog that sweet elderly woman bequeathed her on her death bed."

I scooped up the ball of fur.  "Hush and I'll go to the store and buy you something else."   Muffy quieted down. 

The doorbell rang.  My muscles tensed.  Too late, I thought, the police have arrived.  I was a mess, dog hairs all over my black skirt and jacket; I hadn't checked my hair or make-up since I had come home. I ran my hand over my hair, hoping most of it was still in place on the top of my head.  I glanced through the peephole and opened the door in surprise.

Mark stood in my doorway.  He wore blue jeans, a flannel shirt and work boots.  My heart stopped.  He smelled of fresh cut wood and sunshine.  My lungs filled with the scent of him.  A sudden vision of the two of us Texas-two stepping across a dance floor filled my eyes.  The thought of his thighs and calves brushing mine with each stride sent a shiver down to my toes.

Muffy squirmed and thoughts of dancing flew from my head as fear gripped my soul.  What if Mrs. Henderson left me something else to care for?  "If you have anymore pets," I stammered. "You can forget it.  If your mother so much as bequeathed me a house plant you might as well pull it out by the roots and toss it on the ground—"

His lips quirked in amusement and he held up a large hand.  "Whoa.  I come unarmed with any live inheritances.  Can I come in?"

I opened the door wider and he stepped inside.

"My assistant Manager, Nelly, called and told me a frantic looking woman carrying a whimpering dog was in and bought about three cases of dog food and supplies.  I realized I forgot one of the most important instructions for Muffy.

Muffy wiggled in my arms.  "She won't eat.  I don't know what to do.  She cries all the time.  She's going to starve to death.  I have no idea what I'm doing."