The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge Read Online Free Page B

two minutes past three, Stewart heard the familiar, and welcome, squeal of brakes from the driveway below. He opened his door and left it open.
    In another moment, Lisa rushed in, carrying a tray with two large cups wedged into the holes, and her steno pad.
    “They’re both lattes,” she explained. “So it doesn’t matter which one you pick. Full caffeine, if that’s okay with you.”
    “Sure,” Stewart said as he took the cup closer to him. “Let’s sit down in the living room. It’s more comfortable. I know it’s small, but they don’t build turrets like they used to.”
    At this, Lisa laughed.
    Somewhere Stewart had read that a woman values a good sense of humor above nearly every other criteria when judging a man.
    I’m off to a good start. I’m okay with funny. It’s not like I can will myself handsome.
    Stewart winced to himself.
    As if being funny will really make a difference. I mean, come on, now.
    “Show me the pictures,” Lisa said, excited.
    Stewart pulled out his phone and displayed the five pictures he’d taken.
    “That is such a cute dog,” she said, even more excited. “How did you get him to pose like that? With the bone and all?”
    Stewart shrugged.
    “Seemed like he knew what I was doing—or wanted.”
    Lisa asked him to recap every bit of the theft, which Stewart was happy to do. As he spoke, she scribbled notes down in the steno pad.
    Do they still have stenographers?
    “You don’t have to mention me in the story, do you?”
    Lisa smiled at him and stared back.
    “I don’t think so, Stewart. But if I get the Pulitzer Prize for this, they’re going to want to know.”
    He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead.
    “That’s a relief. I mean…not that you couldn’t win the award and all…but by that time I’m hoping that I won’t be working at Tops anymore. Like I’ll have a real job by then.”
    Lisa paused and looked down at her hands.
    “It is hard, isn’t it? Getting started. I thought by now I would be doing something important and not making lattes.”
    “Which are very good, by the way.”
    “Thanks.”
    She keeps smiling back at me. That’s a good sign.
    “Well, I think I have enough material now. Like I said, I’ll call you if I think of anything else.”
    “Sure.”
    Lisa stood to go, then glanced at the kitchen counter.
    “You know it’s not January sixth anymore.”
    She was looking at his Verse-a-Day calendar.
    “Oh, yeah, I’ve been meaning to get that up to date. It’s on my to-do list.”
    Lisa laughed again.
    She laughs easily. And it sounds pretty.
    “I didn’t know you—you know, went to church and all that. You know, faith. Jesus, and all that.”
    Stewart’s thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a reply that might fit.
    “Well, sure, I go. Not all the time. My grandmother sent that to me. But I like it.”
    Did that sound convincing?
    “That’s good,” Lisa replied. “Nice to know that a neighbor feels the same way I do. Well, I’ll get writing. And send me a copy of those pictures, okay?”
    “Sure. I’ll do that right away.”
    And she shut the door behind her.
    Feels the same way I do? About what?

    The next day, only minutes after the Tops Market opened, the bandit dog struck again. Mr. Arden was not there—he was attending a managers’ meeting in Sunbury—and Stewart managed to take two more photos of the dog in action. As he tracked him from the store, he managed to get within a dozen feet of the dog, who, by this time, almost seemed to enjoy being near Stewart. Stewart would have sworn that the dog slowed down to let Stewart keep pace with him, at least for half a block.
    Stewart stopped at the Wired Rooster and gave Lisa a heads-up.
    “How did he sneak in this time? I thought the store would be at DEFCON Five by now.”
    “Managers’ meeting. Our assistant manager was in the back signing for a truckload of frozen stuff. And the dog shadowed the bread guy as he wheeled his rack inside. They’re supposed to come