Nemo. Don't worry, he's just fainted."
Amanda let that sink into her bemused mind for a moment while she studied the dog. He was a brindled black and tan mastiff and clearly weighed nearly two hundred pounds. While she watched, he stirred and sat up, blinking. He looked up at her, arid his tail thumped against the floor. In his black-masked face, the heavy wrinkles around his big eyes made him look like a startled octogenarian, she thought.
She looked at Penny. "He fainted?"
"Well, yes. Whenever he's startled or scared, he faints. You must have startled him."
"I didn't know dogs fainted," Amanda said after considering the matter dispassionately.
"He's the only one I've ever known to do so. The vet in town says he's never seen it either. Anyway, that's why he washed out of the army; they were training him to be a guard dog, which obviously wasn't going to work."
"Obviously. So why've we got him?"
Penny rubbed her nose. "The former owners of this place bought him about four years ago. When they cleared out last summer, they sort of forgot him. On purpose. He's an aloof dog, and doesn't take to many people. No meanness in him, though. I've been taking care of him, but I was wondering what Mr. Wilderman wants to do about him."
Amanda looked down into Nemo's big, mild eyes, then looked somewhat helplessly back at Penny. "Don't you want him?"
"He doesn't like me well enough. Since you came out here to manage the place—"
"Just until the renovations are complete," Amanda protested.
Penny smiled at her. "Well, you're the authority here for the time being. Your decision."
Amanda glanced at the dog again, then shook her head. "I'll get in touch with Mr. Wilderman later. In the meantime, just—well, just keep feeding Nemo, I guess."
"Okay. Which room do you want for our first arrival?"
"Um... well put him on the third floor in the room at the end of the hall."
Lifting an eyebrow, Penny said, "That's the coldest room in the house; the furnace people haven't figured out where it is yet, but there's a blockage in the system."
Briskly Amanda said, "Then have the maid, Sharon, put an extra blanket on his bed."
"You're the boss," Penny said, still a bit surprised.
When the housekeeper had gone, Amanda stared down at the list of guests and bit her lip. It wasn't, she told herself firmly, that she was trying to drive Ryder Foxx away. It was only that the room in question happened to be the farthest from her own second-floor bedroom.
She also told herself she was being an absolute fool about this. Ryder Foxx couldn't possible know she was here; these reservations had been made months earlier. Uncle Edward had simply forgotten to mention he was one of the guests. And, at any rate, Ryder wouldn't recognize her as the Cinderella from more than a week before.
If he even remembered that woman.
Still, Amanda couldn't help but feel defensive and decidedly unnerved. Even though the masquerade hadn't been her idea, she was conscious of an absurd sense of guilt. She argued with herself during the remainder of that day and well into the night, and her defensiveness won out over guilt. After all, she told herself, she'd feel like a total fool if she admitted to having been Cinderella—and he didn't even remember.
The next morning, edgy and a bit heavy-eyed after her sleepless night, she kept busy helping out wherever she was needed. She was somewhat hampered by the determined presence of Nemo, who had slept outside her bedroom door and now followed her every step.
"He likes you," Penny said.
Amanda nudged the dog out of her path with one knee while she struggled to position a ladder in the entrance hall. "He gets in my way," she said, but kept her voice even and casual; she'd discovered that brusque voices hurt Nemo's feelings, and watching him slink out of sight with his tail between his legs made her feel guilty.
Penny smiled at her, then went upstairs when Sharon called down to her in a harassed voice. Alone in the entrance
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins