3

  Old-person knuckles rapped on the door. The wood of the door muffled the old-person voice behind it. Dawn birdsong glided through the thin window panes of Bee-bee’s room. Now the knuckles of a fist knocked on her bedroom door. Bee-bee stirred from the depths between her mattress and the voluminous comforter that drifted over her when she turned.

  In her bedding, in the dark, Bee-bee smacked her lips and blinked hard as she crawled. Cool bedroom air slipped in where the edge of the comforter floated above the bed edge. Bee-bee squinted at the light that shot in, and she crawled, hands first, out of bed down to the floor.

  Knuckles rapped on her bedroom door. “Bee-bee,” said Olive.

  “Coming,” gargled Bee-bee.

  She wobbled to her feet, smacked her lips a few times, gazed about the room which she had been staying in for a whole month now, and rubbed her eyes. Blindly, she staggered toward the door. The cold knob rattled when she turned it, and the door creaked when she pulled it open. Olive towered over her.

  “Good morning, little Bee-bee!” said Olive. “I’m sorry to wake you, but you’ve got a delivery you need to bring in. Remember, I told you I wouldn’t do it for you.”

  Bee-bee gawked at Olive. It took a moment for her to understand that it was delivery day. Oh, what a day! Deliveries were the best days! Though she’d only had two delivery days so far, she couldn’t wait to carry everything in down to the rathskeller. Carrying things reminded Bee-bee of bailing buckets, and she liked feeling useful, even if just to herself. Oh, delivery day!

  Bee-bee bolted down the hallway, tumbled down the stairs, and launched herself out of the front door. Olive called after her, and she sounded quite startled and worried. But there was no time—a delivery awaited her!

  Bee-bee leapt down the steps. She hurried to the tree lined street where her deliveries were usually left at a three-way intersection. Crates were piled three high, and a wagon lurched off on bumbling wheels.

  Bee-bee was once again speechless by the event of a delivery. It wasn’t like fishing for hours and hoping to get a bite of food. No, this was different. All she had to do was pay a human to deliver food once a week. No effort! Oh, wow, what a way to get food!

  One by one, Bee-bee struggled to carry the crates in. The first three had bags of flour. Those, she had to grab one at a time. This time, slung over her shoulder, she managed not to get entirely covered in flour. The crates with vegetables weren’t so hard to manage. She had to clamp her tongue to one side of her mouth to heft and carry them. The crates of tomatoes had to be carefully moved, lest she drop them down the stairs to the rathskeller again. Having learned that humans stole as much as goblins did, Bee-bee returned to the street to double check that she’d grabbed every crate—even the cheese this time!

  Bee-bee gandered around the spot where she received today’s delivery. Just as she dashed her hands together for a job well done, she spotted a crate labeled…something…in red letters beneath big bold letters which read HAM.

  Oh? Bee-bee scrunched her face and cocked her head. Without Olive’s tutoring, Bee-bee would not have been able to read the three letter word. Ham? Had she ordered ham? The crate was quite different then the ones she’d just carried in, and it was stuffed with straw which poked out of the wide gaps between slats. Bee-bee supposed that she did in fact order ham. Now, how did her ham get all the way over there? Well, better bring it in before a thief sneaks upon it!

  Bee-bee bounded across the street. The crate had no lid. She peered inside and found, not ham, but a fluffy white puppy—well, not quite a puppy or a dog—it was somewhere in the middle. The tongue-lolling, happy-looking dog bounced. On its back legs, it stood nearly as tall as her. It jumped, licked the air in front of Bee-bee’s face, and bounced on its back legs as its tail wagged.

  “Are you stuck?” said Bee-bee.

  She received a sharp bark, and she wished then that Olive had taught her barking instead of literature and reading. Oh, but what did the dog mean by its bark? Bee-bee thought. She thought so hard that her brow creased, and she frowned, and stuck out her bottom lip. Well, what would it hurt to pretend she understood the dog and to help it out of the crate?

  Bee-bee lifted the squirming, wiggling dog out of the crate and set it on the cobblestone walkway. The dog wagged its tail, and it jumped and licked at her face. Bee-bee sputtered and tried to block the ardent tongue. What a strange creature! Never had she met a dog before. She couldn’t help but giggle as the dog ran circles around her. What a funny fellow! It felt good to help a little creature-thing-dog! What a good-good morning she was off to.

  “Well, it’s back to work for me,” said Bee-bee, and she bumbled back across the street, and she hobbled down the rathskeller stairs beneath her sign which read Bee-bee’s Tom Pies!

  All her tom pie staples needed to be put away, and the fire needed to be started, and the oven needed to be warmed until it was hot, and last night’s dough needed to be divided and and stretched out, and tomatoes needed to be boiled and peeled and smashed and cooked; oh so many things!

  Bee-bee set to storing her staples into cooling pots. A nose rapidly sniffed, and Bee-bee found herself sniffing too. Oh, how good the herbs smelled! So fragrant! The flour needed to be put onto shelves, so Bee-bee carefully hefted them, climbed a firm step stool, and she heaved the bags onto shelves. A corner on one of the bags burst, and a cloud of flour encompassed her. A nose frantically sniffed, and Bee-bee found herself sniffing as well. No, raw flour did not smell as good as herbs. No, no. A nose sneezed, and Bee-bee frowned. She turned, and her gaze fell upon the fluffy white dog.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  Hadn’t they said their goodbyes out on the street? Why had he followed her to the tom pie shop? Ah, but the very same thing had happened to her! She had tried to say her goodbyes just the same! On her way to find the stream which would take her home, smells had brought her round—not that she was terrible with directions, no. With such a nose on such a long snout, the dog was definitely here because he smelled tom pie. She wondered if his nose was powerful enough to smell yesterday’s tom pies!

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  “You smelled yesterday’s tom pies, didn’t you!” said Bee-bee, and she received a bark and perked ears.

  There was only one thing to do, and that was to make the dog its very own tom pie. That’s why it was there, after all. Right?

  As she stretched the dough and rolled it out on one of the low tables, a nose appeared upon the edge of the table. Its nostrils flapped, and particles of flour rolled away from it. The nose disappeared, and then it reappeared on the other side of her. And when she spread tomato sauce upon the pie, the nose battled her elbows, and it squeezed between her belly and the table edge.

  “You gotta wait,” said Bee-bee. She said it gently, of course, because she knew what it meant to have to wait for tom pie to bake. Oh, what torture it was! “I’m so sorry!” said Bee-bee, and she fetched her tom pie paddle. Hefting her tom pie burdened paddle, she charged the oven. The dog galloped beside her, and she felt for a moment like a human knight upon a steed! And with a successful delivery, she inverted an hourglass and prepared the dough for six more tom pies. All the while, nostrils sniffed at her elbows.

  When the last grains heaped the pile of sand at the bottom of the hourglass, Bee-bee fetched her paddle. She and the dog charged the oven, and she hefted the tom pie down to one of the low tables. The dog jumped and barked.

  “Yes,” said Bee-bee, “it’s almost done! Just gotta sprinkle some cheese.”

  When she sprinkled the cheese, the dog put his snout over the table as far as he could.

  “I’m so sorry!,” said Bee-bee, and she inverted another hourglass. “We gotta wait until it cools.”

  She couldn’t continue working on her tom pies for the moment, because the dog began whining. She understood completely, and she patted him over his shoulders in reassurance.

  “Almost ready,” she said.

  But it seemed to her that the dog would have none of it! It aimed at the cooling tom pie, and then barked so hard that it scooted itself back. Bee-bee did her best to soothe the dog until the sand of the hourglass had emptied from the upper chamber.

  The dog wagged its tail as she led them up the stairs, out, and then under a tree. The dog ate like a starved goblin! He snatched slice after slice and took less than two bites to get each slice down. Bee-bee had to protect her share of slices. And after they had finished the most delicious tom pie ever, the dog looked at her like nothing had happened. Like nothing at all! Like they had just sat down to eat a fresh tom pie! Like they hadn’t just frenzied one!

  “But we just ate,” said Bee-bee. “And I would scribble a map for you, but maps don’t really work that well around here. It was nice meeting you. Bye-bye.”

  It was time to get back to work before humans started arriving to pick up tom pies. Bee-bee bounded to the house, and she beelined down the stairs. Tomato sauce needed to be spread and swirled, tom pie needed to be baked, cheese needed to be sprinkled, and the occasional tom pie needed to be tasted for quality.

  As Bee-bee ladled tomato sauce, a familiar nose appeared across the table. A snout and a set of canine teeth appeared with it. It reminded Bee-bee of sharks breaking the water in their chase of flying fish. Except sharks didn’t pant into the air with their tongue lolling out.

  “It’s the smell, isn’t it?” said Bee-bee.

  The dog only continued to pant, and Bee-bee wondered if he was thirsty. After charging the oven, she set a bowl of water down, and she watched the dog lap.

  “I don’t have anymore tom pie yet. Have as much water as you want before you set off again.”

  Bee-bee returned to work. She found a rhythm of preparing tom pies just in time to go in the oven as those in the oven were ready to come out.

  “Careful,” said Bee-bee. “You almost tripped me. I don’t want to lose any tom pies. It’s bad for my budget.”

  The sun shafted through the open windows near the ceiling. “Time to open shop,” said Bee-bee. She lugged her a-frame sign up the stairs, across the walkway, and to the street. She unfolded the sign, and made sure the letters were pointed down the street. When she turned, the dog was right behind her, panting.

  “Oh?” said Bee-bee. “I guess that’s it? You just wanted to hang around for the morning? Well, it was nice to meet you! Take care, bye-bye!”

  Bee-bee bumbled across the walkway to her house. She couldn’t believe she met a dog today! What a funny thing, a dog. He had been so smiley, and so sniffy, and so excited. But Bee-bee knew that it was hard to snuff a smile around tom pie. What a fun guest she’d had! Oh, strange beasty!

  Bee-bee bounced down the steps to her rented rathskeller. Little claws clattered on the steps behind her. She reached the bottom, and a white fluffy dog bounded past her and ran all around her tom pie kitchen. Bee-bee laughed, and she chased the dog around. He barked, and she barked, until someone knocked on the stone at the top of the rathskeller.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello?” said Bee-bee.

  “It’s me again,” said Connor-the-regular. “Might I have two tom pies, please?”

  “Oh, most certainly!” said Bee-bee.

  Connor had brought two reed-woven trays which Bee-bee snatched from him. The dog followed her up the rathskeller steps and followed her down the rathskeller steps. Bee-bee hefted two tom pies, one into each basket and returned up the steps. The dog followed her every step of the way.

  “Thirty copper,” said Connor, and he traded his coin for two tom pies. “Thanks again, Bee-bee!”

  “Thanks again!” said Bee-bee.

  Bee-bee returned to the line of tom pies that needed to be baked. The dog followed her. He followed her to the oven, to the table, to the flour, to the sink, to the table, to the oven, up the steps, down the steps, to the oven, and to the table. His toes clicked on the stone floor. His nose sniffed everything that could be sniffed, and Bee-bee found herself sniffing everything just as hard.

  “I can’t pay you for your help,” said Bee-bee. “Just so you know. Not like you’re really helping much. You’re more in the way than helping, actually. And if you’re hungry for tom pie, and you can’t pay any, you have to wait until I take my break. Did you know that I get breaks now? I don’t have to work from sunup to sundown, or from sunup to sunup anymore. Isn’t that amazing? I gotta say, meeting Olive and Arthie is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Did you know humans can be so nice? I didn’t know that.”

  As Bee-bee went on and on, happy to have someone on her level that could understand her, the dog stuck to her side and followed her all around. When his nose aggressively butted the edge of the tables she worked on, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, silly!” said Bee-bee. “You’re not going to follow me all day, are you?”

  The dog followed her until she took her break. Olive and Arthie came down, and they were quite surprised to find Bee-bee sharing tom pie with a dog.

  “My!” said Olive.

  “I told you I heard barking,” said Arthie.

  “Where did he come from?”

  “He was in a crate,” said Bee-bee. “He’s been following me all day!” She fed the dog another slice, and she patted him over his shoulders. “You’ve gotta be full after this. And you better get going before it’s too late outside!” The dog barked. “It’s okay, I’ll miss you too, but you can’t follow me forever!”

  The dog licked at Bee-bee’s face, and she giggled as she held him at bay.