Caleb returns my smile with a hesitant one of his own. “Thanks, Charlotte.”
That hesitant smile is the most genuine thing I’ve seen him do…well that and talking about his passion for saving retired working dogs. The little upturn of his lips, a sign of a strong man showing a bit of weakness, does something to my insides. I quickly shove that thought out of the way.
I press a hand to his shoulder, which brings that tingly feeling right back to the pit of my stomach. I shove that away, too. “You get back to work saving K9s, and I’ll get you a new donor. I promise.”
His hand crosses his chest to cover up mine. He squeezes a bit, his eyes softening. “Thank you.”
I spend the next two hours calling every contact I know and dozens I don’t know. When my boss Jenny checks in via Teams chat, I tell her everything is going great and I don’t dare mention that our largest donor has pulled out.
Maybe in another reality I might have caved to this donor’s wishes and gone about changing the date and all the headache that would cause. It might even be easier to change an entire gala date than to find a new donor. But this isn’t business anymore. It’s gone full personal. That man caused so much heartache in my life by controlling his son the way he controls everyone. And at the end of the day, Bobby chose his dad and the family business over me, the woman he spent years saying he’d marry. I was told to quit my job, lose twenty pounds, and be a perfect little housewife who never spoke up about anything, or get out.
I got out. I’ll never look back.
After the third hour of unsuccessfully finding a new major donor, I start to get antsy. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I’m doing this for moral reasons and I wish the universe would just throw me a bone and make it easy to replace WLB. I even call Wal-Mart. They’re way too corporate and would make an uglylooking logo on our donor posters, but desperation is pushing through my confidence.
Wal-Mart says no. I drop my cell phone to the desk and slam my laptop closed. I stand, shaking out my limbs and doing a few arm stretches. I will not let William Bryan win. But I can’t let more than a day or two go by without a large donor because we are way too close to the gala to not have something lined up.
I need some water. Venturing through the barn to the admin building, I say hi to Ethan at the front counter.
“How’s it going?” he asks. He’s chipper, without a single panicked wrinkle on his face, so I’m betting Caleb didn’t tell him the bad news.
“Great,” I say. I crack open a cold bottle of water from the fridge that I’ve been told to help myself to, and glance out the window. Caleb just walked out to the parking area to greet a guy who gets out of a black box van.
They talk a moment, and then walk to the back van door. A few moments later, a tan lab comes walking out with a hot pink leash the driver hands over to Caleb. He kneels down, letting the dog smell and lick all over his face. I think she’s a girl, given the pink collar and leash. Her tail happily wags so hard that her butt shakes back and forth. I’ll admit—labs are cute and not nearly as scary looking. But all dogs have teeth and all teeth hurt.
“Oh sweet, Rain is here!” One of the twin guys says as he appears from down the hallway. I don’t remember his name but he and his twin have done absolutely nothing to distinguish themselves apart. Same haircut, same shaved face, same clothing styles.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“She’s an arson dog who just got retired and had nowhere to go. Her handler was diagnosed with an aggressive disease and can’t handle the stress of caring for a dog and dealing with his treatment.”
“Wow,” I breathe, still watching Caleb outside as he loves on Rain. Unlike Rex, who is all business all the time, Rain seems to love playing and getting pet. “That’s so sad.”
Max (or Owen) bursts out the door to go meet the new dog.
“Our second official Alden K9 rescue,” Ethan says. “Just think of all the dogs who will be saved from euthanasia thanks to Caleb’s efforts.”
I smile. My phone rings. Jenny’s name on the screen immediately kills any hope that it’s a wealthy person calling to donate money. I slip into Caleb’s empty office to take the call.
“Great news,” Jenny says. “Those brats at Ally Party Planning have poached two more clients from us.”
“That sounds like bad news,” I say.
“Of course it’s bad. But it's also great news because this should motivate everyone to work harder. Charlotte, your event has potential to go viral online. Everyone loves a good animal sob story. I need you to make this viral, kay? Don’t embarrass me. Do a good job. You’ve got this.”
She hangs up.
Great, that’s just what I needed. More pressure.
chapter eight
Caleb
K9 Rain came to me by surprise. I hadn’t expected to take on another dog until after the gala, but when a K9 handler friend reached out saying his buddy was extremely sick and his dog had nowhere to go, I said send her here. Rain is a sweetheart, trained only in scent detection, not patrol work which means she’s not a “bite dog.” She’s a lover, not a fighter. And boy does she love attention.
I show her around the facility and bring her to her temporary kennel which is next to Rex. For all his anger issues, Rex enjoys being around other dogs. It’s humans who annoy him sometimes. There won’t be any trouble at all finding a retirement forever home for Rain, and the way Max immediately falls for her tells me he’ll probably be begging to take her back to his room and keep her himself.
The excitement of the afternoon almost overshadows the stress of the gala. By the time I’ve finished working with Rain’s former handler and showing them both around the facility before saying goodbye, Charlotte has left work for the day. She didn’t even say goodbye.
