“If you want the dog inside, you need to spend $30.”
My first instinct was to apologize.
That had become a habit after Frank died.
Don’t inconvenience anyone.
Don’t make people worry.
Don’t ask for too much.
Don’t inconvenience anyone.
“All right,” I said. “We’ll go.”
Then I noticed the golden retriever again.
“But their dog is allowed.”
“They ordered lunch.”
“So the rule isn’t about dogs.”
His mouth tightened.
“But their dog is allowed.”
“I’m Christopher. I own this place. And I decide what kind of atmosphere I want.”
Benny leaned into my ankle.
I could’ve left.
Maybe I should have.
Then Christopher glanced down at him.
“Yours is old, unattractive, and looks like it’s barely hanging on. Animals like that frighten off customers who actually spend money here.”
“I’m Christopher. I own this place.”
Then my sweet boy started trembling.
