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Welcome to Laurel Valley. Zoe let the words play around in her mind. There was something about this place that had called to her instantly. Her publisher had sent her to Laurel Valley several years before to do a book signing, and the town had left an impression on her. So much so there’d been pieces of Laurel Valley in every book she’d written since.
The resort town sat like a jewel nestled at the base of white-capped mountains, surrounded by clear lakes and towering pines. The architecture of the town was Bavarian in style and strictly maintained so it looked like a picture-perfect postcard no matter the season. Chalets lined the downtown area, made of stucco or natural stone, and planter boxes streaming with colorful flowers hung from every window.
The downtown area was in the shape of an X and at the apex was a two-story building in the same Bavarian style with a pointed black roof and balconies on every side. A large sign that read The Lampstand hung over the door and large pots of fuchsia and yellow bougainvillea spilled artfully over the edges.
At the center of the X was an area that held wooden picnic tables with red umbrellas during the summer and that became an ice-skating rink in the winter. She remembered the ice-skating rink from when she’d visited before. Winters were cold and long in Laurel Valley.
Zoe noticed the sign hanging under the awning two doors down that said Raven Layne and knew she’d be back to the boutique to shop later. For the moment, she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Her head was too light, and she had to resist the urge to push her hair back off her shoulders. What did they call it when amputees still felt like their limbs were there? Phantom limbs, she thought. Well, she had phantom hair and it was already driving her crazy.
But crazy seemed to be her middle name today because she took a deep breath and cut across the street in front of The Lampstand, and then she took a right toward the dog shelter. She even managed to nod and smile at the people who passed her on the sidewalk. They were most likely tourists here for the summer, and the thought that this was her home now made her straighten her shoulders with pride.
The animal shelter was at the end of the block in a chalet made from the same natural river stone as her condo. Zoe wondered how many people came here on vacation and left with a pet. It seemed an odd place for an animal shelter, but it obviously worked. When she drew closer, she could see why.
Her heart sighed at the sight of a pen full of fluffy puppies wrestling playfully in the grass. A family of four came up beside her, oohing and ahhing, and she could tell by their Laurel Valley T-shirts and backpacks they were on vacation.
“It’s our last day here, Phil,” the wife said. “We can take one of them back home with us tomorrow. The kids will have the rest of the summer to train him.”
Zoe could tell the dad was a goner. There was no way he could resist those three faces looking so imploringly at him. Before she got caught in the puppy trap, Zoe found her resolve and marched through the front door of the shelter.
The last thing she needed was a puppy. Puppies were not conducive to book deadlines. They required lots of playtime and attention, not to mention they required lots of trips outside. The thought of going up and down the elevator every hour and through the night was almost enough to have her run screaming in the opposite direction. But something kept her feet planted to the pine floor of the reception area.
It smelled of antiseptic and lemons, and beneath it was the underlying aroma of animals. There was a large L-shaped reception desk with a pretty girl behind the counter. She was on the phone, so Zoe walked over to the glass wall where rows of kittens were displayed. There were shorthairs and longhairs, blue eyes and amber, playful and sleeping. They were all adorable, and for just a moment she considered getting a kitten too. They were hard to resist. Which was, she was sure, why they had them displayed at the front of the shelter.
A kitten was not on her list for starting a new life. Todd had a cat, and it had been a miserable, mean, vengeful tabby who’d spent its days looking for ways to sabotage her work and her marriage.
That was probably unfair. A cat couldn’t possibly have that much power as to sabotage one’s marriage. It only seemed that way because Todd babied that ferocious fur ball more than he had her.
“How can I help you?” a voice said.
Zoe jumped slightly and turned to face the pretty girl who’d been on the phone. She had a kind, round face still softened by youth, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her dark hair was piled artfully on top of her head. She wore jeans and a pale blue T-shirt with the shelter’s logo across the front.
“Sorry,” Zoe said. “I was lost in thought.”
“I figured you must be,” she said, grinning. “Most people don’t look like they could do murder when they’re staring at kittens. Unless they’re a psychopath. You’re not a psychopath, are you?”
“Not since I last checked,” Zoe said. She couldn’t help but smile. The girl’s good humor and infectious personality wouldn’t let her do anything else.
“I’m Mac O’Hara,” she said.
“Zoe Green. And I’m here for a dog.”
“Oh,” Mac said, looking surprised. “Don’t get me wrong, but I’m pretty good at matching people with pets. Are you sure you’re a dog person?”
“What animal would you match me with?” Zoe asked, intrigued.
Mac stood back and looked her over from head to toe. “You’re successful,” she said. “Busy life. Busy schedule. And you don’t take a lot of time for yourself except for the necessities. Killer hair, by the way. You look like you could fight an army of orcs, be the lead singer for a rock band, and then seduce a Mediterranean prince and sell his secrets to the government.”
“That’s very specific,” Zoe said, lips twitching. “Are you a writer?”
“I’m a waitress over at The Lampstand most of the time,” Mac said, shrugging. “And I work here three days a week. I also go to school, but we’re out for the summer.”
“Well, you have a very creative imagination,” Zoe said. “What are you studying?”
“Business,” Mac said. “I don’t love it, but I’m supposed to graduate next spring, and I’m pretty sure my dad would kill me if I changed my major at this point.”
“That I do understand,” Zoe said sympathetically. “Sometimes you just have to keep going and learning so you can discover who you really want to be. And then once you figure it out you can forge your own path.”
“Is that what you did?”
