A Better Man

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book was initially going to be dedicated to my wonderful agent of fifteen years, Teresa Chris, in thanks for her own dedication to the books. She was the first publishing professional to believe in Gamache and Three Pines.

But, having said that, I decided to dedicate A Better Man not to my agent, but to a dog. (Sorry, Teresa…)

Bishop, the golden retriever who shared Michael’s and my life for many years, died while I was writing this book. In fact, I almost changed the name of the dog in the book from Fred to Bishop, but for some reason, “Fred” just worked better. Besides, that was the name of my assistant Lise’s dog, who also died while I was writing A Better Man. He deserved to be remembered, too.

Bishop is the last in a long line of golden retrievers who have shared, and improved, our lives. Who taught us how to be more generous, more kind, way more forgiving. More patient. More human.

Our first golden was Bonnie.

I’d wanted a dog for a long time. Michael did not. Just before we got married I somehow convinced him that a puppy would be the perfect wedding gift to each other. It was, for Michael, the same as giving each other razor-sharp teeth, pee, poop, and tumbleweeds of hair.

He was not enthusiastic.

After our honeymoon we picked up Bonnie, all eight weeks of her, and brought her home.

She immediately peed. Then cried all night.

In the morning I came down to find Michael cradling her, and Bonnie curled, asleep, in his arms.

She was forever his. And he was hers.

Each successive dog, over twenty years, tolerated me and bonded to Michael. Which, I must say, was fine with me. I loved seeing the joy in both their eyes when they spotted each other.

Not long after Michael was diagnosed with dementia, our last golden, Trudy, passed away. Michael came with me to the vet, and watched, befuddled by what was happening. Upset that I was upset, but not quite grasping why.

For weeks, Michael looked for Trudy. And asked where she was. It broke my already fragile heart.

A month or so later, knowing our distress, Kirk came by and said he’d heard about an old dog, a golden, whose family could no longer care for him. Would we like to meet him?

Michael was doing his ever-present jigsaw puzzle when Bishop arrived, just for a visit. Bishop took one look at Michael, walked over, placed his teddy chew toy on Michael’s lap, sat down, and barely left Michael’s side, until the day Michael died.

Bishop was our miracle dog. Our gift from a loving Higher Power.

He was dedicated to Michael. And so, after Bishop’s passing this spring, at the grand age of fourteen, it seemed only right to return the favor, and dedicate A Better Man to a wonderful dog.

Indeed, to all our dogs.

To all the cats, horses, birds, gerbils, fish, and animals who make our lives so much better. Who give up their freedom, for us.

I now live apparently alone, but in reality I live with Bonnie, Maggie, Seamus, Trudy, Bishop. And Michael. Ever-present and immortal.

There are also some humans I want to acknowledge.

Of course, Teresa Chris, my patient (dear God, let that be true) literary agent.

My wonderful editors, Kelley Ragland, Hope Dellon, Ed Wood. My publishers, especially Andy Martin with Minotaur/St. Martin’s Press in the U.S., and Louise Loiselle with Flammarion Québec. Thank you to Paul Hochman and Sarah Melnyk.

To Jamie Broadhurst and everyone at Raincoast Books.

Two people in particular, both lawyers, helped with ideas for A Better Man. Thank you to Laura Marr and Mike Conway.

Thank you to my family, Rob and Audi, Doug and Mary, to the nieces and nephews, for all your support and patience. For being happy for (though no doubt kinda surprised by) my success. For cheering me on, especially when things got tough. All this would be hollow, meaningless, without you to share it with.

To Kirk Lawrence and Walter Marinelli, Rocky and Steve Gottlieb. To Jon and Cotton and Betsy and Tom and Oscar and Brendan. To Hillary and Bill and Chelsea and Marc. To Danny and Lucy. Normand and Peter. Robert Bathurst, Ann Cleeves, Rhys Bowen. To Rosemary and Will and David. Kim and Deanna and Sylvie and Nathalie and Erin, Guy, and Jackie, and my neighbors in Knowlton, and, and …

Special thanks to Linda “In Scotland” Lyall, who manages the website and now answers, with Lise’s help, most of the mail, though I read it all and do answer some. I met Linda face to face for the first time in fifteen years this summer. She’s as beautiful as she is kind.

And finally, to my assistant, and great friend, Lise. Without her, there would be no books. Lise does so much for me it’s impossible to list it all. But mostly, she’s my friend. My confidante.

These books are about community. About love and belonging. About the great gift of friendship.

How lucky I am to live in Three Pines. In every way. With you.

We are never alone.

Louise Penny