Moving In
an excerpt

Belinda smiled as she stroked the candelabrum she had just sanded and buffed by hand. The wood, walnut from a tree that had fallen in a neighbor's yard, was as smooth as glass, but lacked the sticky quality that even the slickest glass always seemed to exhibit. She ran her tack cloth over the piece, which maintained the free-form grace of the branch, and set it down again on her table block, to check one last time the balance and level. Perfect. She picked a can of finishing oil from the shelf over her workbench and began to rub the oil into the walnut. She caught her breath as the oil brought out the depth of color and highlighted the fine grain of the wood. Nothing was more satisfying to her than helping a piece of wood become the thing it was destined to be.
Midori emitted a ladylike whimper, and Belinda turned her attention to her best friend in the world. A lucky blend of terrier breeds, along with something larger, Midori was thirty pounds of beauty, brains, loyalty, courage and persistence. She was mostly black, but with swatches of white on her chest, her nose, and her two left feet.
Belinda grinned at the little dog. “You smelled the tung oil, didn’t you?” She poured another drop of oil onto her cloth and applied it to the base of the candelabrum. “Well, you’re right. I’m almost done for now.” She gave the piece a dozen more strokes, then set it back on the block to dry. She put her tack cloth into a plastic bag and put the used oil cloth into a jar of water in the deep sink, then lathered up the bar of homemade lavender soap to scrub her hands and forearms. When she had dried them, she rolled down her sleeves and removed her apron, as Midori watched. With no wasted motion, Belinda hung up her apron and snagged her jacket and Midori’s leash from their pegs by the door. She shrugged into her flannel and tucked the leash into the cargo pocket of her pants. The last thing she did before she opened the door and switched off the lights was to remove a feathered dart from the wall and ram it squarely into the middle of a photo mounted on a dart board. The photo showed a handsome man, fulsomely decorated with black marker mustache, eyebrows, and horns and dozens of small holes. Around the man’s face was a red marker heart, and another red heart inside that, so that the overall impression was of a heart-shaped target painted on the handsome, vandalized face. The dart board was still swinging slightly as Belinda gently closed and locked the door behind her.
Midori danced around the spacious back yard, going from sniffing spot to sniffing spot with curiosity and excitement. Apparently, a lot had happened in her back yard since her noontime outing. Belinda felt the energy of the early fall evening, too, that first crisp harbinger of winter, so she ran and scampered with Midori, dodging and chasing and having a good time. Wherever they ran, the motion-sensor lights illuminated their playground. Belinda had hated the lights at first, because they kept her from ever being able to see the stars, but for now, for a night time game of dodge the dog, the lights were convenient, if not aesthetic. And, she reminded herself, her safety was more important, and harder to realize, than ever.
Midori lengthened her stride and ran three laps around the yard at close to top speed, before skidding to a stop right in front of the side gate. Belinda had kept up with the little dog, but she stopped short when she saw that Midori obviously wanted to take their playtime out into the neighborhood.
Belinda reversed course and called out, “Come on, Midori. Come on, girl,” as she ran to the other side of the yard. Midori didn’t budge. Twice more Belinda tried to entice the dog to resume play inside the safety of the stockade fence. Midori remained rooted to her spot by the gate. Belinda knew she had lost. Midori had not been outside the yard in two or three days, and she was going to hold out for a run around the block. “It’s dark, girl. Dark out there.”
Midori sat.
“This is one of the biggest back yards in the neighborhood, and you should be grateful. Just think of all the claustrophobic dogs in China.”
Midori turned her back on Belinda.
Belinda let out a gusty sigh. They’d never been attacked, not seriously. Midori was right to insist on leaving the yard once in a while. Belinda’s own fears were silly—after all, stick and stones could break her bones, but words could never hurt her. Words should never hurt her, and wouldn’t, if she would just toughen up a bit. Belinda sighed again and pulled the leash from her pocket, jingling it as she did. Midori streaked from the gate to Belinda’s side and sat perfectly still while Belinda snapped the leash onto her collar.