"No, he didn't bother me," John replied. "He does have a lot of bark for such a small dog, though," he said as Inu Inu--that name made him want to smile, as it was the equivalent of naming a kitten Cat Cat. "And yes, I'd like some tea, if it's not too much trouble."
Nana smiled again and left the room, and John sat down again. The windows were open and the breeze brought in the scent of the lilacs and fresh-mown grass. John wondered idly about someday owning his own home instead of living in the Pennington. His father had loved gardening, loved roses, and John had often helped him with yardwork and gardening. He'd liked it, but then school had taken up most of his free time, and he somehow, years had passed without him lifting secateurs or a shovel.
Nana came back in with a tea set on a tray, and set everything on the coffee table before sitting beside him on the sofa. Everything she did had an innate grace, from the way she smoothed her skirt before she sat, to the movements of her hands as she prepared tea. He liked watching her. It was peaceful.
"Thank you," he said as he took the cup from her. "I've missed seeing you around. I never realized how much I depended on seeing you." He smiled. "Or those peach-milk candies you used to share whenever you saw me. I think I became dependent on your sweet tooth."