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“Not at all. Glad you didn’t set the time earlier, though. Some yahoos were setting off firecrackers half the night. I hadn’t thought to bring earplugs—which would be helpful with the trains as well. This seems counterintuitive, but apparently downtown Mission City can be a noisy place.”

Foster laughed. “Especially the corner where the Grand Hotel is located. That’s a major intersection—and there are few of those.” He gestured for me to follow him in. “I’m also from Vancouver and accustomed to more noise. Up here, where we’re near the end of a dead-end street? Barely a whisper.”

As if on cue, two dogs came tearing into the foyer, yapping like crazy.

My host slammed the door. “Queenie!”

The smaller dog’s jaw snapped shut.

“Good girl.” Foster pivoted his attention. “Taffy.” Less bite and more…pleading?

She eyed him before finally closing her mouth as well.

“You’re such good girls.” He cooed that, producing some kind of bacon-resembling thing from his pocket. He broke off two pieces. “Sit.”

Both dogs plopped onto their butts.

“Down.”

Again—compliance.

“Good girls.” He gave them each a piece.

Taffy licked her chops and then headed back from where she’d come.

Queenie continued to stare.

Foster held out his hands. “Nothing.”

She eyed the pocket where he’d tucked the rest of the treat.

He shook his head.

After what felt like forever, she eyed me for a moment, then headed toward the back of the house.

“Did your dog just shrug?”

“As inI had to try?Yep, that’s Queenie. All rescue and all attitude.”

“She’s adorable.” I didn’t just love human pups.

“She’s a handful. We got her as soon as we moved in. I always wanted a dog as a kid. As did Arnav. Next, we’re hoping to be blessed with foster kids. Or adopting. We just want to help kids in need. I know what it’s like. Being a foster kid,” he clarified.

I held up the fruit tray I’d brought because I wasn’t certain how to react to that level of pain—even if transitory.

His face lit. “Blueberries!”

“And cherries, watermelon, as well as strawberries. No cantaloupe. That stuff’s nasty.”

Dark-brown eyes flashed amusement. “Don’t tell Arnav that.”

I mimed zipping my lips.

“Come through to the back. Fortunately the bugs aren’t too bad yet. Near the end of the season, it can get nasty.”

“How long have you had the house?”

The sand-colored two-story brick house resembled the others on the street. Kind of like Nan’s house back in East Van. I’d been sorry to sell it, but I’d needed the money to pay for Imani’s and Malaya’s educations. No bank would give a twenty-one-year-old, who was supporting his eighteen-year-old twin sisters, a mortgage. Even if the property was paid off. And I’d been forced to sell during a downturn in the economy. Today that house was worth five times what I sold it for nearly twenty years ago.