Page 7 of Call It Serendipity

In fact, talking with him, I had almost all but forgotten about my self-doubt, creative block, and general disappointment in myself that descended as soon as I woke up today.

Almost.

“You’d love me even if I never sell another painting again, wouldn’t you?” I ask Bear as I sit in the grass of the shelter’s dog run.

He ambles over, all one hundred pounds of German shepherd mix, and drops a slobber-covered tennis ball at my feet. Pride beams from his expression as he sits patiently and waits for me to retrieve the toy.

Reaching out, I close a hand around it, resulting in a disturbing squishing sound I decide not to dwell on.

He jumps back up, his tail immediately swinging side to side. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I say before chucking the ball down the run once more.

Behind me, the distinct creak of the shelter’s metal door rings out. It’s followed by my father’s voice. “Hey, kiddo. Impromptu team meeting at the reception desk,” he tells me.

I press my palm back in the grass and turn over my shoulder. “That sounds concerning.”

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest as he holds out a hand to pull me up. “Which part, having to meet with a group of people or that it’s impromptu?”

“Both,” I admit.

I don’t like crowds, and I don’t like feeling taken by surprise.

I like dogs and my quiet studio.

“Bring Bear with us,” he suggests, retrieving the leash from the ground and handing it my way. “You’ve been doing really well with his training.”

As if demonstrating Dad’s point, Bear returns obediently to my side, sitting so I can clip the leash to his collar. When he first arrived, you couldn’t even put a collar on him without his stress levels going through the roof.

He even remains in perfect stride at my hip as we cross inside and are greeted by the handful of barks from his companions. The kennels are set up in two long aisles, containing space for ten dogs on each side. Currently, we have twelve here. It’s not the largest rescue, but it’s the only one in town, and it keeps the animals from going to a kill shelter across the county.

Dad holds the door open for us to move from the dog’s section of the rescue to the lobby. Across the way, a cat climbs the multi-level structure behind a large glass window and watches us with the kind of weariness that comes from previously relying on one’s survival instinct.

Turning the corner for the reception desk, we come to a stop beside my mother, who is already waiting with the rest of the crew. There is Parker, the veterinarian that splits his time between his practice and the shelter. And Sam and Ellie, the other two members of the staff alongside me. As far as a group goes, it is fairly modest in size.

“Mathew,” my mom says, turning towards Dad, “Parker was just giving us the run-down of what happens in a public forum.”

“Public forum?” I echo, looking suspiciously between Mathew and Susie Hart.

“Yes, that would be the subject of this meeting—attending the public forum the village trustees are holding tomorrow. Every business owner is going to rally their staff and pack the place.”

It sounds like my own personal hell.

“But why?” Ellie asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Because,” my mother starts solemnly, “our quaint streets are being threatened.”

I stifle an eye roll at the dramatics and ask, “Do you mean the hotel thing?”

“You know about it?” Parker gasps.

I tip back, leaning against the reception desk. “I do live with Alice’s granddaughter.”

Everyone nods in understanding; everyone knows Alice.

“What hotel thing?” Sam presses on, his young, high school voice cracking.

My mom reaches over and scratches behind Bear’s ear. “I think Lucy should explain, she probably has the most information.”

I’m not sure how I was just thrust into leading this little team meeting, but she has a point. “I didn’t know anything about the village trustees meeting, but as far as the situation… I know that the Carpenter Collection, the big hotel chain out of New York City, has put a bid in on the vacant brewery.”