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Today her problems would go poof! 

Her heart hammered in her chest. Her sweaty hand slipped as she turned the doorknob on the front door of the clapboard house.  

She couldn’t wait to get her inheritance!  

And a minute later she was escorted by a well-dressed young man to Mr. Newberry’s office.  

Victoria settled into one of the two leather armchairs in front of the mahogany desk. She folded her hands on its scratched surface and surveyed the room. 

Bookshelves, filled with law books and photos, were complemented by the beautiful Aubusson rug beneath her feet and the horse prints adorning the dark-paneled walls, creating an old-world charm.  

Mr. Newberry, her uncle’s lawyer, smiled and remained silent, as if he were patiently waiting for her to complete her thorough examination. 

She leaned back and tried to calm her nerves while observing him. She guessed he was in his mid to late sixties. He had a patrician nose, combed back silver hair, and warm brown eyes.  

She hoped he’d be friendly. Feeling utterly out of place from her usual surroundings, she fumbled picking up her Louis Vuitton tote from the floor and rummaged through it until she found her glasses, just in case she needed to read something. “In your letter you mentioned certain conditions attached to the inheritance.” 

She swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders. “I’m here to find out what they are.” 

“Yes.” He shuffled through a stack of files, picked up one, and fixed his gaze on her. “I’ll read them to you.” 

He opened the file. “I do hereby stipulate that in order to inherit my estate you must reside in my house and take care of my beloved dog for a period of not less than one year.” 

Her stomach wobbled. Fortunately, she had skipped breakfast. “Come on! This is completely unbelievable! You’re telling me that I flew all the way across the country to hear this nonsense?”  

Oops! She put her hand over her mouth.  

Her uncle’s inheritance was meant to solve her problems, not create more, but she didn’t take the time to consider how she sounded before those words flew out of her mouth.  

Mr. Newberry scowled. “Your uncle was afraid you’d have that reaction. He hoped you wouldn’t.”  

She twisted her hair around her fingers. His words hurt, but she couldn’t think about that now. Her uncle’s will had thrown a wrench in her plans, and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Her bank account was nearly empty. Her jaw tightened. “My uncle may have loved me, but he expects me to upend my whole life for an entire year?” 

His loud sigh put her on edge. “Yes, and let me be very clear. Until the end of the one-year period, I have control of the title on his home, so there’s no way for you to sell it.” 

He leaned forward. “Your uncle suggested we drive by his house to remind you of how much you always seemed to enjoy it. He also mentioned that you might like to meet his dog, but unfortunately, the couple currently taking care of him are out of town this week and have taken him with them.”  

Victoria mused, “I don’t need to see the house. I’m sure nothing has changed.” She shrugged. “So what happens after the year ends?” 

He cleared his throat. “Your uncle hoped you’d want to stay, but you may do as you please. The house and the dog are yours. Many young people have established thriving businesses here, and he hoped the same for you.” 

She felt like he was judging her to see if his words sunk in, so she made an effort to keep from fidgeting or playing with her hair.  

“That all sounds wonderful, but I’m not particularly interested in moving here,” she said, shaking her head. “And having a dog is definitely not something I’ve ever considered.”  

“Fine. But listen to me carefully.” Mr. Newberry held her gaze. “If you decide to walk away, your uncle has taken every legal precaution. No loopholes. No appeals. And his dog and his entire estate go to a dog rescue group he implicitly trusted.” 

“Yikes, my uncle sure did love that dog.” 

“Yes, his dog was his dear beloved companion, and the most important thing to him. From the moment he rescued him, they were inseparable. Therefore, you should consider what he wanted—for you to love this dog as much as he did.” 

Victoria muttered, “I’m not sure that will happen.” 

He obviously heard her. “He knew you’d never had a dog. He hoped you’d find it a positive experience, one that would give you a sense of responsibility.” 

She hated to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. “How so?” 

“Well, you’d have to feed it and see to its well-being instead of flitting from one party to another. A lifestyle your uncle didn’t approve of.” 

She threw her hands in the air. “That’s not fair! I’m a party designer. I even plan events for some celebrities.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “You certainly could do that here for our residents.” 

She took a deep breath, her thoughts drifting away. Her life was a tangled mess. She could either stay where she was or follow her uncle’s wishes and move to Houndsville. Neither choice seemed appealing at the moment. 

He cleared his throat again. “If you have no more concerns and don’t wish to see your uncle’s house we’re done here.” 

He reached across his desk to hand her a copy of her uncle’s will. “If you read over this you’ll see your uncle gave you thirty days to make a decision. I advise you to give your uncle’s wishes serious consideration.” 

“As if I have a choice,” she muttered, wanting more than anything to storm out.  

Instead, she composed herself, pushed back her chair, stood up, and marched toward the door.  

As she turned the doorknob, she glanced back at him and in her most polite voice, said, “I’ll be in touch.” 

Right as she crossed the threshold he called out, “You know your uncle predicted you would do something wonderful in your life.” 

She paused, imagined her uncle’s smiling face, and murmured, “Now I have to believe it myself.”

Published May 2020, the latest in Ellen Gilman's Houndsville series. 

Tough times for Meghan George brings her back home to Houndsville with her 7-year-old, daughter.  But it's dog-gone tough. Will two needy puppies help Meghan find a better future...fur-ever? Read on:

"Hi, sweetheart. What’s up?” Her dad’s upbeat voice made her smile.

"Dad, I need a little help.”

There was a long pause. A very long pause. Uh-oh, this might not be good. Her stomach flip-flopped.

“What happened?” her dad asked tentatively.

“Well,” Meghan paused, not sure she wanted to tell her dad the truth but then went ahead. “Long story short, I saw something wrong and it was too important to let it slide.” She cringed. “It got me fired.” 

She envisioned her dad frowning. “Oh Meghan, I know you meant well, but sometimes the less said the better.”

“I keep expecting people to appreciate constructive criticism,” she said firmly. 

“Meghan, I don’t see the point of dragging this out and continuing to assist you when it’s evident to me you don’t help yourself. I’m done. It’s time for you to come home,” he said, not wavering.

“What?” Meghan felt her stomach roll. “No, Daddy no.” She couldn’t process this. Her last ray of hope, her dad, was giving up on her. She felt as if she’d been punched in her gut. No one else had stood steadfastly behind her like he had. 

She jumped up, pacing back and forth. Gripping the phone, she stuttered, “Dd-dad…I know I’ve screwed up again, but please don’t give up on me now.” 

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“But you’re telling me to move home to Houndsville.”

“Yes.” The one-word answer had Meghan shaking her head. She had a bad feeling her dad was not going to give in this time.

Still, she tried. “But I’ve been doing better. I’ll never be able to do what I want in Houndsville. I told you Gwendolyn has agreed to co-write a how-to makeup book with me. With her backing it’s bound to succeed.”

“I’m not going to change my mind this time, Meghan. You’re unable to take care of my granddaughter properly, and that is worrisome to me and your mother.” 

Meghan pulled out all the ammunition she could come up with. “But Dad, I came here for college because it is a great place to get started in the beauty business.”

“Yes, I know. You wanted to start your own cosmetics line. And look how that turned out.”

“Dad, I know I messed up. I’m sorry I didn’t stay focused on my classes. I never should have trusted Phillip, but dummy me I believed his lies about helping me get contacts to start my cosmetics brand.” Meghan could feel herself rambling, but she wanted desperately to change her dad’s mind. “At least I have taken good care of Grace. I haven’t screwed that up.”

“Yes, but only with my support. Do you realize how many times I’ve bailed you out? It’s enough, Meghan. You’re an adult now and you should be able to figure out how to support yourself and your daughter.”

She didn’t have any idea how to respond. She tried to hold back the tears by biting her lip. “You know you’re not giving me a choice here.”

“Oh, but I think I am. I’m willing to give you a roof over your head and food to eat and it seems to me your first obligation is to provide that for Grace.”

Meghan gripped the phone. He was right in that it was all about Grace. She bowed her head, knowing she’d been defeated. “I’ll need money for us to fly home.” 

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 Washington D.C. 

Daisy’s left hand ached a lot. A fifty-seven page deposition had taken her all afternoon to mark up. She shook her wrist and tried to loosen up her fingers. Only seven pages left. So much for the soft-tip pen she was using. Even it was giving out on her.  

She leaned back in her desk chair and swiveled around to look out her one small window. It was already dusk. The streetlights flipped on.  

That did it for her. She was done. There was always tomorrow. She really needed to get home. Max, her neighbor’s rough collie that she was dog-sitting, was waiting for her.  

She grabbed her cross-body handbag off the chair arm just as her cell vibrated, the sound of quacking ducks spewing from the speaker.  Darn. It was her mother’s silly ringtone. She had to answer. She pivoted back around and tapped on the speaker. 

“Hi Mom.” 

Her mom sounded exasperated.“Daisy, you won’t believe what I did. I…” 

The door to her office banged open.  What the heck! She looked up as her dad’s voice boomed. “Daisy, I need to talk to you. Now.  

This was so not good. 

Now she’d have to deal with her dad— who was also her boss— and her mom at the same time. 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“Mom, hang on just a minute.”  

Oops! She shouldn’t have let her dad know she was talking to her mom.  

Now she’d be lucky if he didn’t make some snide comment. Her parents had re-defined the term ‘bitter divorce’ when she was eleven. 

Oh well. Too late now. 

Without saying anything, she patted her dad’s forearm and pointed with her index finger to the chair across from her desk. He scowled before he turned his back on her and sat.  

Thankfully he kept quiet.  

“Phew.” She wiped her brow.  

Her office was small with not much room for privacy, so she moved towards the door to her assistant’s space and spoke softly. “I’m back, Mom, but I only have a minute. Your voice was cutting out before. Start over.”  

Crap! She’d goofed again by letting her dad know she was talking to her mom. 

She wanted to be home.Instead, she had to deal with her parents.  

Her mom sounded panicked. “I’m trying to tell you. I broke my wrist.The Fur-Baby Gala is this weekend, and I’m the one who’s supposed to do the flowers and the room decor.” 

Daisy was trying to process her mom’s words while hearing her dad’s foot tapping incessantly. 

“There’s no way to replace me at this late date.” Sounding wretched, her mom said, “I could use your help.” 

Yikes!  Her mom wanted her to come to Houndsville. How would she ever manage that with her big trial starting Monday? Nothing like pitting her parents against each other. What a mess. 

“Mom. I just don’t know how to answer you right now. I’m so sorry. I gotta go. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” And she would as soon as she could come up with a solution. 

She instantly felt bad about hanging up so abruptly, but when she glanced at her watch, it was even later than she’d realized. Instantly her stomach knotted up. She had an even more pressing matter to think about right now.  

How to get my dad out of here so I can get home to Max. 

Remember the biofeedback lessons. Deep breath from the diaphragm! She walked over and perched on the edge of her desk. ”What’s up Dad?” 

”I need to see the Forester file, but first what did your mom want?”  

She shrugged, refusing to answer him, and stood up to walk over to the credenza behind her desk. It took her a minute of fumbling around to find the file he’d requested and hand it to him. 

Rather than continuing to stand, she sat in her desk chair and watched him go through page by page and write notes in the margins.  

It was agonizing! 

If only she could tell him she had to get home— but he’d never understand. She had to restrain herself from tapping her fingers on her desk and telling him to hurry up. 

Instead, she stuffed a handful of chocolate buds in her mouth, hopefully surreptitiously, and made an effort not to fidget. He’d make a negative comment if she did. 

Twenty forever minutes later, he closed the file. “I made some notes. You’ll see they require you to do some additional research.” 

“Sure Dad. I’ll have the file back to you tomorrow.” She happily agreed—anything to leave, to get to Max. She stood up and grabbed her blazer off the back of the chair. 

Her dad got the hint and stood up. “I’ll expect those files on my desk by nine.” He left, and she let out a huge sigh of relief. 

By nine! At least he hadn’t asked again about her mom.  

She felt like a hot sweaty mess after the encounter with her father and didn’t even bother to slip on her jacket, although she suspected, she might be chilly with it being late fall and the sun gone for the day. All she wanted was to get home. She tossed the Forester file in her tote bag and rushed to the garage to her SUV.  

Poor Max. He’s stuck waiting for me.  She imagined him standing by her door with this forlorn expression in his huge brown eyes, wondering why no-one had come to walk him.

The first in Ellen Gilman's Houndsville series. Powerful Poochie Perspectives (through People's POV, of course). With a tale told around a resident of Houndsville, Millie Whitfield, her dream to create a special dog's food bakery and adventures with her poochies, Luke and Annie.

Here's how she plans to open "The Best Doggone Bakery":

Millie snuck up on Carl and wrapped her arms around him as he stood in his closet fingering through his shirts. “Hi.”  

He turned to face her. “I was wondering where you were?”

 She gave him her best toothy smile.

 “Uh oh!  I know that look. Something’s on your mind.”

She nodded. “Yup! I was walking to Barbara’s Bookshop today, until I had an unfortunate detour.”  Millie held up her hands. “Don’t ask. I’ll give you a clue. There’s a ‘For Sale’ sign outside of Christopher’s.”

 “Really? The building is for sale again.” He frowned, looking  puzzled, and peered  into her eyes. “Oh, I understand. You’re worried  that you won’t be able to find a salted caramel pretzel ice cream  that’s as good as his.” He snickered at his own joke.

Millie studied his face carefully, looking for a signal that would  let her know he’d figured out what she was thinking. She knew the minute  he was with her. His face lit up like a light bulb, and he smiled. “Ahh, I know where you’re going with this now.”

 “You keep urging me to find something to do that I’m passionate  about.”  She stood up on her toes, held onto his shoulders, and  lightly brushed her lips against his.

Now  she had his attention. He took her chin in his hand and tipped her head  up.  “So, tell me more,” he said giving her his best crinkly smile.

 “I’m  going to finally open my dog bakery, and you’ll be the investor who’s  behind the venture. Now’s the perfect time. You’re really busy, I have  time, and Christopher is selling. Hopefully, this time he’ll stick to  whatever his plans are.” 

She had spoken so fast that she had to stop to  catch her breath. “Well?” ###

Will Carl collaborate? Can Millie make her dream come true? How will it help other doggies in dire distress? 

Find out more from The Best Doggone Bakery. Here are the links to Order Now from our excellent sales sites: 

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Like regular life, this story is not easy. My beloved Mollie could not initially reach out lovingly. Indeed, hubby and I were thinking of trying to re-home her.

What actually happened to all of us--Mollie, me, my spouse and kids--while we were together? This, my first book based on our experiences, took almost 20 years to write. Read it, and you'll understand why.

Susan opened the cage and Mollie cautiously walked out of her enclosure. 

“Oh, Susan she’s beautiful! I don’t remember ever seeing a sheltie that looks like her. Her fur is so curly.”

While I was talking to Susan, I saw her look down at Mollie. When she looked back up at me, I noticed she had a puzzled look on her face. I was getting ready to ask her why when she blurted out, “Sherry, look at Mollie.”

I glanced down to see a dog I had never seen before peering up into my face with what I can only describe as a wistful look in her enormous dark brown eyes. She had placed herself in front of my feet, touching my shoes. I was surprised I hadn’t felt her touching me. She was sitting on her hind paws with her head cocked in my direction, staring up at me. 

“Susan,” I said with a bewildered look, “does Mollie think she knows me?” 

Susan shrugged. “I have no idea.”

I carefully bent down so I was on eye level with Mollie. She did not budge. She seemed determined to sit as close to my feet as possible. She continued with her unwavering stare until she nuzzled me with her heart-shaped black nose. “Okay, maybe she wants me to pet her,” I observed.

I settled myself on the floor. Mollie continued gazing at me. She didn’t take her warm brown eyes off me. 

“Susan, I see you’re as confused as me from your stunned expression. I don’t understand why Mollie is so focused on me. She’s not moving. I would have guessed she’d want to walk around the room a little after being in that small cage. Check out her surroundings. She appears unaware you’re even in the room with us”

Susan grinned. “I know. It’s obvious she’s picked you to take her home. I think it’s great!” 

“Uh oh,” I groaned. “I don’t think you are aware that last night when Laura called, I told her this was not a good time for me to get another dog.”

Susan bit down on the inside of her lip. I could tell she was stunned. “You’re right,” she replied frostily. “I assumed when you came here today it was because you wanted Mollie.”

“Hey, wait a minute! You need to understand what’s going on in my life. I just got a new job. I’m afraid I won’t have time to devote to a new dog.” 

I stole a glance at Mollie. Our eyes met, and I was struck with the intensity of her stare. She still hadn’t moved at all. She sat perfectly still like a statue. Still focused on me with a pleading look in her eyes.

I stood up. I thought maybe if I moved, so would Mollie. Nope, she still didn’t budge. I was in trouble here. I moved a little further and tried questioning Susan.

 “Do you understand what’s going on? Do you have any idea what Mollie’s thinking?” I moved still further away. “Laura told me last night her owners want her put to sleep. But what could Mollie have done that was so bad?”

 I glanced back down at Mollie and softly added, “It’s really difficult to look at you. Your eyes are so expressive. I feel like I’m looking into big brown pools of sorrow. Uh oh, this is just making things worse. I can feel my heart pounding away thinking of what might happen to you!” 

Susan bent down to pet Mollie and went on to explain, “Laura didn’t say much to me. All she told me was that she was going to try and find Mollie a new home. I figured when I saw you walk in, Mollie was in good hands. Now from what I’ve seen here, you may be unsure, but Mollie is absolutely certain. She has picked you!” 

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