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way you’re going to go, you are going to hit rush-hour traffic. Let me get the cash for you, then you need to go. Check in from time to time, okay?”
    “I will. So, from this moment on, I am going to be Oliver Goldfeld, right?”
    “Just don’t go practicing law and giving out advice. I don’t relish being hauled before the bar. What about her and the kid’s cars?”
    “Take them,” Mace snapped.
    “And . . . ?”
    “Sell them to the highest bidder. I really don’t care what you do. Just get rid of them.”
    “I have this vision of the mother and son riding the subway. Now, there’s something I would pay money to see.”
    In spite of himself, Mace laughed.
    Five minutes later, Mace had a manila envelope full of cash.
    Five minutes after that, the two old friends gave each other a manly hug.
    “This is going to turn out okay, isn’t it, Oliver?”
    “Well, if it doesn’t, it won’t be for lack of trying. Everything is set to go. She won’t even know you’re missing until you fail to show up this evening. That puts you in a good position. Keep a low profile, and I’ll take care of this end.”
    “Oliver, why hasn’t either one of us used her name? We refer to her as her or she . We don’t even call the boy by name.”
    “First of all, he isn’t a boy, he’s thirty-three years old. His name is Eli. Her name is Eileen. There, does that make you feel better?”
    “Not one bit. See ya when I see ya, Oliver.”
    “Go on, you big lug, get out of here before I go all mushy on you. Hey, on your way out, why don’t you go to the SPCA and pick up a dog. Pick the ugliest one they have, the one no one else wants, and that dog will love you forever. You have enough time to do it.”
    “You know what, Oliver? That’s the best advice you’ve given me since I got here. Do me a favor; call them and tell them I’ll be by to pick her or him up in an hour. I’m going to do it. Thanks for the suggestion. Man and his dog. I like that. I really do.”
    When the door closed behind Mace Carlisle, Oliver Goldfeld picked up the phone to call the SPCA. While he waited for the call to go through, he muttered, “Good luck, Mace.”
     
     
    Ninety minutes later, Mace Carlisle roared into the SPCA parking lot. He climbed out and literally sprinted toward the door, to be greeted with barking and howling dogs. A frazzled attendant looked up and said, “You must be Mr. Goldfeld.” Mace nodded, then looked around. He had a bad moment when he realized he was there just to rescue one dog. He blinked, and in that instant he knew if he wanted to, he could save every animal in the shelter. He blinked again and yanked out his brand-new cell phone and called Oliver. He turned away and spoke quickly and quietly. A huge smile split his features when he turned back to the attractive blond woman behind the counter.
    “Here she is,” the woman, whose name tag indicated that she was Connie Toulouse, said. “Her name is Lola. She’s a mix of God only knows what. She’s timid, and she needs some TLC. Actually, she needs a lot of TLC. Are you up to it, sir? Owning a dog is a huge responsibility. Lola is going to depend on you. I don’t have any stats on her. Someone found her and brought her here, so I have to assume she’s been on her own for a while. I cleaned her up, and she’s had her shots. I’d have your own vet look her over. That will be seventy-five dollars.”
    Mace whipped out two one-hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the counter. “Give me one of everything she’s going to need.” Then he bent down to look at the skinny, trembling dog, who was trying desperately to be invisible to the huge man standing over her. Mace dropped to his knees. When he looked into Lola’s eyes, it was love at first sight. He picked her up and held her close to his chest. He couldn’t ever remember anything feeling this good, this right. He stroked her head and whispered words he would never remember later. Lola continued to shake,