A Gift to Remember by Melissa Hill

onto
her cosy sofa and eat. The smell of warm tomato and basil, rising dough and freshly bubbling cheese assaulted her senses and her stomach rumbled.
    ‘Come here boy,’ the waiter commanded, dropping to his knees as Bailey barked excitedly, circling him with a harmless growl before leaping into his lap. Ricardo sat back on his
haunches, tickling him behind the ears and clearly earning a friend for life.
    Darcy winced at the noise, hoping the neighbours wouldn’t hear and complain to the landlord. ‘You’re pretty good with him,’ she remarked to Ricardo, turning on a couple
of low-level lamps and flicking a switch. Her little Christmas tree (the smallest the street vendor could find) and the homemade ornaments decorating it immediately came to life; fairy lights
illuminating her tiny living room and its packed-in furniture, and overloaded shelves all weighed down even more by the plethora of tinsel and festive garlands.
    ‘My brother-in-law has two Huskies, each one crazier than the next. You got lucky; yours seems pretty calm.’
    ‘He – he’s not mine,’ Darcy improvised quickly. She washed her hands and reached for a slice of thin-crust margherita, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain. But
Ricardo was patient, waiting for her to finish chewing as he stared at her with questioning dark eyes. ‘I’m . . . I’m watching him for a friend from work. Just for a couple of
hours.’ She hoped he wouldn’t mention the dog’s presence to his boss who was also Darcy’s landlord.
    ‘Cool.’ He looked at the Christmas tree. ‘What are those, key-chains?’
    She smiled. ‘No, they’re books. Well, actually, they’re matchboxes covered in coloured paper, but each one represents a different book.’ She picked up one at random,
turning it over to read the title. ‘See, this one’s
Moby Dick
. And that one’s
Northanger Abbey
. And that one’s
The Great Gatsby
. . .’
    ‘I get it, I get it; you don’t have to read the whole tree to me. It’s no secret you have a thing for books.’ He looked around and she tried to see the room through his
eyes: the bookshelves filled to brimming, tottering piles of read and tobe-read titles positioned in various places around the living area – beside the sofa, beneath the TV-stand, blocking
out the weak winter light on the windowsill. She smiled, proud of her collection, and only sorry that she didn’t have room for even more.
    Having polished off her first slice of pizza Darcy quickly reached for another, and hesitantly offered one to Bailey, not sure if such stodge was healthy for dogs, but by the way he scoffed it
down in one go, she figured it didn’t really matter. She then offered a slice to Ricardo, trying to be polite, but he made a disgusted face. ‘Pizza without meat is like spaghetti
without sauce,’ he lectured.
    ‘Spoken like a true Italian,’ she joked, going to the fridge. There wasn’t much in there, but she knew she had some beer left from when she’d had Ashley and Joshua over
for a pot luck Thanksgiving.
    Darcy paid Ricardo for the pizza and waited until she heard his sneakers pounding down the stairs to turn back to her doorway, only to find Mrs Henley poking her head out into the hallway.
‘What’s all the racket?’ she asked, her face pinched with annoyance.
    ‘Just getting a pizza delivered,’ Darcy smiled, forgetting her door was wide open. ‘Sorry about the ruckus.’
    ‘Was that a dog I just saw in there?’ Too late, Darcy realised her error and slid the door closer to her back. Mrs Henley pointed a bony finger towards the apartment.
    ‘A stuffed one?’ Darcy tried to joke.
    ‘Hmm . . . stuffed dogs don’t breathe, or poke their heads out between your legs.’
    Suddenly, Bailey was there at her ankles, sniffing the hallway, looking up at Mrs Henley and giving her one of his by now trademark yowls. Darcy took a deep breath, expecting fireworks, a
lecture on building codes and no pet policies, but instead, the