“This is really getting bad,” Amy said softly. “I’ve been working here so long, I can’t imagine working anywhere else. Like, where am I going to get a Darlene and Roy and Marty and Belinda and Burt? Or even someone as annoying as you?”

  Jonah put his arm around her. “I’ve always known you were in love with me.”

  “Ugh,” Amy said, and shoved him away from her.

  “I think we have to stop the pie giveaway,” Jonah said. “It’s been great getting people in this week, but we can’t do business selling a two-buck cup of coffee and a free slice of pie. Hardly anyone ordered off the menu.” Jonah paused and glanced over his shoulder. “And Burt is in some kind of mood because of it. Thinks it’s his fault.”

  “Okay, we stop the free pies. I mean, if your mom will agree, and don’t be so sure about that. And then what?”

  Jonah thought the “then what” was obvious. Hadn’t he said this to them? Sometimes, you just had to call it. Admit defeat. But he didn’t want to broach it now—he needed them all together and they needed to be focused when they discussed it. “I’m working on that. But right now, we’ve got a party to go to. Let me leash this guy up and we’ll close shop.”

  Jonah turned to get Truck, and when he did, his gaze landed on his giant crossword. Someone had written the words suckit as one answer.

  That thing was coming down tomorrow.

  Fifteen minutes later, the family was assembled in the dining room. His dad shrugged into his coat. “Operation Takedown begins,” he said.

  “We don’t have an operation name, Dad.”

  “I like it,” Jonah’s mother said. “It’s a great day for coffee and sabotage.”

  “Oh yeah? If it was such a great day for coffee, why did no one come in here for some?” Marty asked.

  Jonah’s phone pinged in his pocket. He withdrew it and looked at the screen—it was a text from Harper.

  Can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed your face! I’ve got a big surprise for you.

  He’d missed her face, too. She’d been so busy this week, getting ready for this event. What surprise?

  Can’t tell you. Have to make sure you come. Party is starting!

  “Well? Shall we go see what all the fuss is about and engage in a little subterfuge?” Belinda suggested.

  “This really isn’t a spy operation,” Jonah tried, but no one was listening to him.

  They huddled together as they crossed the street, all of them crowding under the only two umbrellas they could find, Truck barreling ahead and straining at his leash.

  The moment they stepped into Deja Brew’s vestibule, they were hit with a scent so pleasant that Jonah was instantly reminded of his grandmother’s house, where the smell of baking cookies had hung permanently over her kitchen. The music drifting toward them was a harp and strings, and it brought to mind the mists of Ireland.

  “Is that an air freshener?” Amy asked, mystified. “A fresh-baked cookie air freshener? How did they do that?”

  “It’s the subliminal manipulation all the big stores are doing now,” his mother said, her eyes narrowing.

  Jonah looked at her curiously as he opened the interior door and held Truck so that they could all walk in.

  He and Truck had hardly squeezed inside when a woman wearing red pants and polka dot heels, a white-collared shirt, and an apron made to look like clouds floating across a blue sky appeared before them. “Welcome!” She was holding a tray. “Would you care to sample a Tiny Pie?”

  “A Tiny Pie!” Belinda echoed. She and Jonah’s mother reached for one at the same moment. His aunt instantly took one and bit into it. Her eyes widened and she looked at her sister-in-law. “It’s so good.”

  So much for the sabotage and subterfuge.

  “We have blueberry, apple, and peach,” the woman said cheerfully, pointing them out on her tray.

  All of them but Jonah crowded in for a Tiny Pie, proclaiming them excellent. He looked around the main room as Truck examined something beneath a large table in the entry, moving it two feet to the right.

  It was warm in here. The music wafted overhead, coming from speakers he finally realized were cleverly disguised in the paneled walls. The lights were drifting with color, changing pink, green, blue, and gold. A man was moving across the floor near the coffee bar, watching the floor light up with the same colors. Somehow, the lights overhead caught the colors and sent them into the room. What the hell? There were light setups like that?

  People were starting to filter in, shaking off their umbrellas and glancing around. People who seemed almost foreign on this part of Congress Avenue, chicly dressed, the men lean and toned, the women in high-end coats. Definitely not the sort of customer they got at the Lucky Star.

  “Will you look at that?” Uncle Marty said, his voice full of wonder as he nodded at the egg baskets. He and Jonah’s dad each took a seat in one of them.

  “Welcome to Deja Brew!” a young man said. “We have some vegan pastries for you to try. And please, help yourself to a sample of our delicious frappes at the frappe bar.” The young man leaned down to pet Truck.

  Amy punched Jonah in the arm. “They have a frappe bar,” she whispered. She shrugged out of her patchwork coat, draped it over her arm, and turned her gaze to the second floor. “Look!”

  Jonah looked up to the second floor. It was about half the size of the room below, and an iron railing allowed people to look down. A man with a wild patch of hair was seated at an easel and canvas. He was painting the scene below.

  “Why is he up there by himself?” Amy asked.

  “Because there is no—”

  Truck yanked on his leash so hard that Jonah’s arm was almost wrenched from its socket. The only thing that saved him from sprawling was the concrete floor—Truck couldn’t find purchase, couldn’t get his grip. But it had startled Jonah, and Truck seized the opportunity to take off, slipping and sliding across the floor, banging into a basket. That’s when Jonah noticed what had caught his dog’s attention. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “That’s Bob,” he said.

  “Who?” Amy asked.

  Truck was causing such a commotion that people were turning to look. Jonah strode over to get his dog.

  Bob glared at them both, clearly annoyed to have been bothered in this way. He was sitting on a dog bed that had been made to look like a throne. He sniffed at Truck as Truck barked at him, and Truck took that to mean Bob approved. But Bob did not approve, and when Truck put his paw on Bob’s head, Bob bared his teeth and let out a terrifying growl. It did the trick—Truck’s tail went between his legs, his ears flattened, and he tried to retreat by shoving in between Jonah’s legs.

  “Truck!” Jonah tried to step over his dog, but he was so big, Jonah didn’t have room to maneuver.

  A dark-haired woman suddenly swooped in and picked up Bob—no easy feat, as that dog was as thick as they came—her eyes wide with fright. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

  “What is—oh hey, Truck!”

  Truck vaulted for Harper.

  Jonah was momentarily made mute—Harper looked amazing. She had on slender black crepe pants, and a red silk blouse that tied at the side of her waist in a very festive bow, the tails of which hung to her knees. Her hair was in a messy bun to one side of her head. “I’m so glad you came,” she said to his dog, and squatted down to scratch his chest. Truck greeted her as usual, with a violent wag of his tail and an attempt to lick her lips. And then he would not leave her side. But he kept one eye on Bob in case that door opened.

  The woman had put Bob down, and he’d curled up on his throne and put his back to them all. That’s when Jonah noticed he was wearing a tux.

  “Hey!” Harper said, beaming at him.

  “You look great,” he said.

  “Thank you! So do you, Mr. Rogers. Surprise!” she said, casting her arm in the direction of the bulldog.

  “I didn’t know Bob was invited.”

  “I know, right? Meet the newest member of our team. We are sponsoring Bob in the King Mutt competition. Maybe you could vote for him tonight.” She pointed to a bone-shaped jar Jonah hadn’t noticed. It was on a shelf above the dog throne. Someone had Sharpied across it Vote for Bob! King Mutt sponsored by the ACC. A crisp one-hundred-dollar bill was plainly visible with a few other smaller denominations.

  “What?”

  “The ACC was supposed to be here tonight to talk about their fabulous program,” the other woman said. “Unfortunately, the weather has prevented them from coming. They are having some sort of flooding problem at the kennels.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry,” Harper said. “This is Carly Kennedy, our publicist. And this is Jonah. He runs the Lucky Star across the street.” She looked back at Jonah. “Carly helped me put together the grand opening.”

  “Hello, Jonah,” Carly said, and offered her hand to shake. “We’re so glad you could come tonight! If you ever need some publicity, give me a call.”

  Like they could ever scrounge up the money to pay for a publicist.

  “That’s my competitor, Carly,” Harper said, and then laughed. “Just kidding.”

  And yet, something sour sluiced through Jonah. He did not find that amusing.

  In the meantime, Truck had inched closer to Bob. The bulldog, with his back still to Truck, growled. Truck instantly sat on Jonah’s foot. Jonah had to admire that old, half-blind bulldog—it wasn’t easy to stare down a bigger dog. “So, King Mutt, huh?” Jonah said. “I thought you didn’t have the time or space for a dog.”

  “I know, right? It was actually Carly’s idea. She convinced me and said he’d be here most of the time. So I made room,” Harper said, and leaned over to pet Bob, but he growled at her and burrowed deeper into his throne. “And this is such a worthy cause! Look, he’s already getting votes! Isn’t it a great idea? Bob is going to bring people flocking to our door, aren’t you, Bob, aren’t you, bobbybobbybobo?” She leaned over Bob again, trying to rub his belly. Bob gave in with a heavy sigh, lazily lifting one front leg to give her a bit of space to rub his chest.

  “You should think about doing it,” Harper said. “It’s great for foot traffic. You can put a picture of the dog in the windows, and people will definitely notice you.”

  Jonah felt out of sorts. He didn’t like her giving him advice—it didn’t feel exactly good. Truck wasn’t a rescue dog, at least not anymore. He wasn’t eligible to compete for King Mutt.

  Bob liked the attention and rolled completely on his back, his paws flopping in the air. But then Truck stepped forward and tried to sniff Bob, and Bob got so flustered, he rolled right off the throne. Truck went into down dog, his tail wagging, certain that Bob wanted to play. Bob took one look at him and climbed back on his throne.

  “Can I show you around?” Harper asked. “Everything is all finished now.”

  Jonah looked at Truck.

  “I’ll dog-sit,” Carly offered. “I love dogs.”

  Jonah thanked her, then gestured for Amy to join them.

  They went to the doors that led to the garden and stared out, shivering from the cold that seeped in. Rain was dripping from the tips of the little umbrella lights. Since he’d last been here, cushioned seating and plenty of heat lamps had been installed. A pergola was strung with glittering gold lights over the small stage. He could imagine how nice it would have been to hear Suzanna had the weather cooperated.

  “What about the live music tonight?” Amy asked.

  “She’s going to set up upstairs.”

  They returned to the main room, and Harper pointed out the artist from Imagine Gallery above, painting them all below as if they were clay figures. Another artist had arrived and had set up on the ground floor, doing caricatures of the guests who wanted one. “We’ll be featuring artists from that gallery. You can purchase their artwork here.”

  “Cool,” Amy said.

  “Harper.”

  They all turned to see a man in a sheepskin coat that made him look like a polar bear, a leather pageboy hat, and blue turquoise earrings. He was in the company of a slender young Black man dressed in tailored clothing and a nice wool trench coat that Jonah wished he owned. Behind them, Truck had found the lighted floor and was jumping, slamming his front paws into the floor and watching it change colors. Several people had gathered around to watch him as if he were part of the entertainment.

  “Soren, I’d like for you to meet the owners of the Lucky Star,” Harper said. “It’s a coffee shop just across the street from here.”

  Amy helpfully pointed at the window. The man in the sheepskin squinted. “Aha. The delectability of kaveh is widespread.”

  Jonah and Amy stared at him.

  “This is my boss, Soren Wilder.” Harper caught Jonah’s eye. “And my associate, Kendal Malone.”

  “Vice president of administrative operations,” Kendal said, extending his hand to Amy to shake.

  “Amy and Jonah,” Harper continued. “Jonah is an aerospace engineer. He builds satellites.”

  “The cosmic essence of embodiment,” Soren remarked.

  Jonah had no idea what to say to that. “Umm . . . yes,” he said, opting for the path of least resistance. “Harper was just showing us—”

  “Jo-Jo, look at this!”

  Jonah’s mother sailed into their midst. She was carrying a tray lined with small paper cups. “These are the frappe samples. They are delicious,” she said, and held the tray up to him.

  Great—was this her brilliant sabotage plan? To work for the enemy? “Are you handing out samples, Mom?”

  “Just helping out,” she said cheerfully. “Take one!”

  Jonah reluctantly took one. “My mother, Darlene,” he said to Soren. “We’re a family-operated business.” He introduced her to the Deja Brew people.

  “Roy and I own the Lucky Star with Marty and Belinda.” She pointed at her partners with the tray. The three of them waved from their post at the frappe station.

  “And that’s Burt. He’s our cook.”

  Jonah hadn’t seen Burt come in. In a way, he resembled Bob—he was standing off to one side in a light denim jacket with a dark scowl on his face. The sample cup of frappe in his hand looked tiny.

  Soren looked around at them all, nodding. He looked as if he’d just worked something out.

  “You know what would really amp up these frappes?” his mother was saying. “A shot of vodka.”

  “Darlene!” Amy exclaimed.

  “It’s just a suggestion.”

  Soren stared at her. But Kendal laughed. “I like the way you think. It’s great for you all to have come.”

  “We do have some adult libations, Mrs. Rogers,” Harper said, and pointed them out.

  In the meantime, the dude in the sheepskin coat looked all around them. “Well then,” he said. “I think we’ve seen what we have wanted to see. Kendal, send for a car.”

  Kendal pulled out his phone. “We might have a bit of a wait in this rain.”

  “You’re going?” Harper said, turning back to them. “You just got here.”

  “I find the evening shrouded in the cloak of unfortunate meteorological conditions. I prefer my hearth.”

  “We should probably go, too,” Amy said.

  “No, no, don’t go,” Harper said to Amy. “We’ve just gotten started. Our vegan vendor should be here any minute. Suzanna is going to perform.” She glanced at her watch.

  “I don’t know,” Amy said. “I have to drive all the way to William Cannon. What about Truck?”

  Jonah and Harper glanced across the room, where Truck had tired of the changing floor lights and was sprawled like a rug on the floor by the dog throne, his adoring gaze on Bob. Bob was facing away from Truck. “I’ve got him,” Jonah said.

  “Nice place,” Amy said to Harper. “You’ve got that on us, for sure. But what we lack in aesthetics, we make up in family.” She gave a thumbs-up and walked away. Just beyond her, a couple entered the store. They removed their hoods and looked around.

  “I’m going to give them a frappe!” Jonah’s mother said brightly.

  Soren had turned around to study the bar lighting, so Jonah leaned into Harper. “Come over to my house when you’re through here. I miss you like crazy.”

  “Me too,” she said, her gaze on the couple. “But I don’t know how late I’ll be.” The couple sat in the swinging baskets and twirled around.

  “It’s fine. Text me when you leave.”

  “Wait . . . I’m sponsoring Bob now.”

  “Bring him.”

  “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  Jonah glanced at Truck again. He was in love. “I’m sure.”

  Jonah’s mother returned, all bright-eyed. “Amy says we are going.” She looped her arm through Jonah’s and smiled at Harper. “This place is fantastic, sweetie. You’re going to put us out of business!”

  “Oh no. No, no, that won’t happen.” Harper laughed, but it sounded a little high and a little forced.

  Jonah wanted to laugh, but he feared his mother was right. He tried to give Harper a reassuring smile, but he couldn’t quite fake it.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Harper,” a young man said, “but Suzanna’s manager is on the phone.”

  Harper excused herself to take the call.

  Jonah forced Truck to come away from Bob. The family gathered in the vestibule, the parents taking time getting their coats on and fastened. While he waited, Jonah spotted a sign he hadn’t noticed before—it was a hastily assembled poster of the King Mutt competition that looked as if it might have been put together by a middle school art class. It featured five pictures of Bob. He sat exactly the same in all of them, and it was clear that the camera had moved around him.

  King Mutt Charity Fundraiser!

  Meet Bob the Bulldog

  Favorite activity: Long walks in the rain while you hold the umbrella over him.