Page 16

"You need to go touch some grass and distract yourself," Hannah declares, handing me four leashes. “There’s no use in panicking over the exact same thing for hours. Make yourself useful and take the girls out for a proper walk.”

I shoot her a dry glare. Useful? I’ve cleaned all the kennels today, swept the floor in our reception area and attempted to bring order into our paper chaos.

"You know I'm right, don’t give me that look. Grab the girls and off you go."

‘The girls’ are the four dogs we currently board. They were kept for breeding in a dark barn, chained within a two-meter radius. When they first came to my shelter, they were in rough shape. Way too thin, skittish and scared. None of them even had a name, which is the first thing we rectified.

Now they’re named after the Golden Girls.

The two beautiful shepherds are Dorothy and Blanche. You can clearly tell they’re besties, because if you take one of them out of the room, the other one will bark so loudly a metal concert would be a joke in comparison.

Rose is a brown Newfie with white spots and the personification of a gentle giant. Seriously, if stands up, she can easily put her paws on my shoulders.

And lastly, there’s Sophia. A basset hound with ears so long and legs so short that she regularly trips. It must be so annoying for her, but it’s the most adorable thing to watch.

Before they came here, they weren’t taught anything whatsoever. They weren’t house trained, didn’t know any commands, and didn’t trust humans.

It took a month until I could pet them. Another until they were a proper weight again. Another two until they learned to only do their business outside, and now they even get the gist of ‘sit’ and ‘drop it.’

They’re such smart ladies. I didn’t have much hope we could get them used to their names, but they surprised me. They took to their names like fish to water, as if they had been waiting for someone to give them one.

I even dare bring all four on a walk at the same time, since I don’t have to fear being quartered in my attempt to hold on to all their leashes anymore.

"Okay," I sigh and set down Mr. Muffin, but not before dropping a kiss on his head. "Are you okay here? Henry's coming over later for Daisy and…”

“I know." She grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and walks me over to the kennels. "Daisy is getting her vaccination. Mr. Muffin's paw needs to be checked out, and I'll ask him to examine Bean’s and Luna’s alleged cold. I still think the little menaces are being overdramatic, but we’ll make sure. Don't worry, I got it."

But I don't ‘got it’ and that’s my problem. This whole sanctuary project has escaped my control, slipped right through my fingers, and now I could lose a whole lot of money or the chance of a lifetime, and I still have no idea what to do about any of it.

I beckon the girls over, pop on their leashes, and before I know it, I’m in front of the shelter, on the cold, windy streets of Kinstead with four older ladies weaseling around my legs and sniffing anything in their way.

Except for Rose. She sticks by my side and nudges my thigh with her nose.

“You’re so receptive,” I coo and run my hand through her soft fur. How practical! I don’t even have to lean down to reach it. As if she senses my worries, she does it again.

"Hey, Brooke."

I glance up. Rebecca, the owner of Kinstead's one and only Chocolaterie and a former classmate of mine, scurries across the street.

"I heard about what happened," she says, slightly out of breath once she comes to a stop in front of me. A frown appears on her round face, cheeks red either from the cold or from catching up with me. She’s wearing her signature pink, frilly apron, and her blonde and pink-dyed hair is up in space buns today.

Of course, she heard about what happened.

"News sure travel fast in Kinstead, huh?" I say to her, straighten my back and try to relax my face muscles.

"You know how it is." She scoffs, but the corners of her mouth twitch with a grin. "Nothing you can do about it, girl. You might as well embrace it." She pats my arm.

God, I hate this. The pitying expressions. The gossiping behind my back, as people in a small town such as Kinstead tend to do.

"Anyway, Saki and I had an idea."

I tilt my head. Blanche suddenly tugs on her leash and makes me stumble a few steps away. What kind of idea could Rebecca and her bestie have cooked up?

"Oh, yeah?" I can't help but be skeptical.

"Just to make sure I have the correct information about your problem, you’ve got to come up with a shit ton of money by Christmas, right?" I nod, wincing at the reminder. “Have you thought about utilizing the Christmas market?”

I freeze. No, I didn’t.