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She sat around and watched him flaunt Sheila in front of her for years and did nothing because she knew to walk away from him would be to walk away from the extravagant life they had. She was addicted to money, to the lifestyle he’d built for her—and she let that mean more than her pride.
My parents taught me so many important lessons. They taught me to be independent, to not count on someone to have your back. They taught me that it was okay to be alone because for most of my childhood, that was what I felt. Most of all, they taught me that love is a weakness, and that love and money are a toxic combination. I won’t let that happen to me. I won’t let money and love mix. I won’t let myself fall into the trap.
Pissed off for the umpteenth time in my life, I grab my purse from the counter and dash out the door, heading to my Sunday ritual, my version of spirituality that helps soothe me, helps remind me I’m nothing like my parents. I get in the car and drive the five miles to my refuge, hoping to work out some of the darkness in my soul and the past.
* * *
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”I murmur, stroking the white cat that’s propped over my shoulder.
I’m wearing sweatpants and a ratty old T-shirt from my college days, a far cry from the stylish CEO I try to present to the world. But here, I don’t have to be that woman. I don’t have to slather on makeup or perfect my outfits. Here is where I let it all go and do something that matters to me.
“Sage, when you’re done visiting with Freddy, can you help the family in the waiting room? They’re looking for a male cat who is good with kids. Thought you’d have a recommendation,” Janice says, peeking around the corner. She’s got a mop in her hand.
I smile. “Sure thing. Just a minute.”
She grins. “I think you should take Freddy home. Barcelona and Monticello could use a playmate.”
I take a deep breath. “You know I would love to. But I’m afraid once I start taking them home from here, I won’t be able to stop.”
“There are worse things than being a crazy cat lady,” Janice replies before spinning around to head back to her cleaning duties.
I suppose she’s right.
I gently carry Freddy back to his cage, tucking him in his bed and stroking him once more before heading out to talk to the family. I know exactly the cat that will be their perfect match. Joey, three years old, hit by a car. He’s a sweet boy who loves to play and to cuddle. He’ll be perfect for a family with kids.
I’ve got all the stories memorized for the sixty-three cats inhabiting Seaside Serenity Rescue, the animal shelter I volunteer at once a week. I’ve been coming here every Sunday for five years. It’s actually where I adopted Barcelona from when I decided Monticello needed a friend. Barcelona was born blind, abandoned on the boardwalk. I took one look at him and knew I had to have him. And once I adopted him and saw this place, I knew I had to come back. If I couldn’t take every cat home with me, I could at least help place them in homes.
It’s my weakness—animals. I’ve always had a soft spot for them. Coming here, though, is about so much more than serving them. It’s about remembering what matters, about escaping from all the pressures of the fast-paced business world. It’s about doing something soul soothing.
I stumble out to greet the family, leading them to Joey’s cage. An hour later, after they’ve completed the application and I’m seeing Joey off to his new family, I stand smiling in the office area. I wave to the little girl who is carrying the cat carrier. I know she’s got a new best friend. It’s beautiful, really.
“Oh, hey Sage, I almost forgot to introduce you to our newest volunteer,” Janice calls from the dog room. Janice is the volunteer coordinator and has been working here since the shelter opened in 1982. She’s an older woman with a heart of gold. I smile, turning to meet her in the dog room.
“Sage, meet Cash Creed. He just moved here from Texas and loves dogs. He’s going to be helping in the dog room on Sundays. Isn’t that great?” she says as she motions toward an empty dog pen. Cash is scrubbing it out, getting it ready for the next intake. He stands at the sound of my name, turning to look at me.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, shaking my head as rage bubbles inside. This is getting ridiculous. I guess it’s what I get for one night of fun—I’ve got myself a stalker.
“Sage? You volunteer here?”
“You know each other?” Janice asks, her sweet smile not calming me. I ignore her, stepping toward Cash.
“Enough is enough. If you don’t stop following me, I’ll get my lawyer to file a restraining order. And I have a good lawyer, you know.” This guy is unbelievable.
Cash shakes his head, laughing. “Full of yourself much? Did you ever think that maybe this has nothing to do with you? That maybe I’m just volunteering?”
“Right. So you just happen to roll into Midsummer Nights the other morning and now you happen to volunteer here on the same day as me?”
“Well, it is the only shelter in Ocean City,” Janice adds. I turn and give her a look. She puts her hands up in apology, walking with her mop to the other end of the dog room.
“Look, I had no idea you work here. Back home, I volunteered at our shelter once a week. It’s where I adopted Killer, remember him? I thought it might be nice to help out here. I might be an asshole, but I figure volunteering a few hours a week might lessen my asshole score just a tad, you know?”
I roll my eyes. “I still don’t know. Mighty coincidental.”
“Maybe it’s fate,” he says, and the smug smirk on his face just irritates me.
“Well, whatever. I’m glad you’re helping. You just stay over here in the dog room. I’ll stick to the cats.”
He leans on the pen now, his arms crossed. He’s smirking.
