area bars in the hopes that someone would spot her and offer her a record deal.
Emma’s face lit up. “The crowd was small but enthusiastic. My new song went over well.”
“When your record deal comes through, promise me you’ll train someone before you leave me. Not that anyone would do the job as well as you do, but at least then I’ll have a chance for survival.”
“I am one of a kind.” A beaming Emma held out an envelope. “This came by registered mail.”
Avery read the return address. Franklin, Parker and Simmons, attorneys at law in Denver. “Let’s hope it’s good news. Maybe someone left us a bequest in their will.”
She tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter and started reading. The missive indeed dealt with a will—Sam Weston’s. Twenty-five years ago, when Geraldine Griswald had created an animal shelter, her husband and Sam were hunting buddies. Sam, also an animal lover, rented Geraldine a piece of land with a tiny building along Highway 35 East for one dollar a year. Eventually, the shelter raised money and built a bigger facility.
Avery read further. No. This couldn’t be right. The shelter didn’t own the land their building stood on? Everyone believed Sam had donated the land to the Estes Park animal shelter over fifteen years ago.
This couldn’t be happening.
She read further. Sam’s heirs wanted to sell all his land to a developer, including the parcel where the shelter stood. They’d “generously” offered to let the shelter buy their lot if they matched the developer’s price of three hundred thousand dollars. Otherwise, they had forty-five days to move.
Three hundred thousand dollars. Just raising a 20-percent down payment of sixty grand would be daunting in the allotted time. Avery swallowed hard and tried to push down her panic.
The Estes Park animal shelter was the only one for miles. If it closed, the other shelters would have trouble dealing with the additional demands on their resources, and the animals would pay the price.
“From the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s bad news.”
Talk about an understatement, but Avery couldn’t tell Emma that. Until she checked into the situation, she’d keep the news to herself. But if she discovered they didn’t own the land, everyone would hear about the situation, because they’d need every cent they could get to keep the shelter open.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Avery inwardly winced. How could she say that with a straight face, especially to Emma who knew her so well? They’d both pinched every penny thin over the past few months to keep the shelter afloat, but she thought she could come up with sixty grand? Delusional, that’s what she was.
“Next thing you’ll try to sell me the Rocky Mountains.”
So much for keeping the news to herself, because she refused to lie to Emma. Glancing around the front room, Avery made sure no volunteers or other staff members were around before she told Emma the news.
“What are we going to do? Do I need to update my résumé?”
“Don’t you dare. I need your help now more than ever. This is the game plan. While I’m examining the new arrivals, you’ll contact the property clerk to find out who they show owns the land.”
“What about the board?”
Avery cringed. Harper Stinson, the shelter’s board president and a top graduate from the micromanager school of business, had hinted they could solve all their financial problems by cutting staff. If Avery didn’t handle the situation carefully, Harper would run amok through the streets of Estes Park with the news of the shelter’s impending doom.
“I’ll figure out how to tell the board when I have more information.” She’d be proactive. Assess the situation and develop a plan before she spoke to them.
“Lucky you.”
“The board may be a big help. They’ve got a wide range of skills and talents, and that’s exactly what we need right now.”
“When they aren’t arguing over who has the best idea and who should be in charge of the project.” Emma shuddered. “I still have nightmares about our last dog-washing fund-raiser.”
“Thanks for reminding me about that.” Three of the board members had taken on organizing key aspects of the fund-raiser. Avery had been forced into the peacemaker role when the lines between the jobs blurred and toes got stepped on. “They’ll pull together better this time because it’s such a dire situation. You’ll see.”
“You’re such an optimist.”
“If I wasn’t I’d never survive running a nonprofit agency.”
* * *
REED’S DAY STARTED at the bank getting the forms notarized for him to be Jess’s guardian while Colt was overseas. Then he and Jess took Colt to the airport. On the drive to Denver, his niece slouched in the backseat texting and ignored her dad’s attempts at conversation, while Reed tried to ignore how much Jess’s actions hurt Colt.
When Colt hugged Jess, telling her how much he loved her, and how he’d miss her, Reed’s eyes teared up. He and his brother shook hands, thumped each other on the back, and Reed reminded Colt not to act like an idiot and get himself hurt. Then he prayed this wasn’t the last time he would see his brother.
On the return trip, Jess sat stoically in the passenger seat, texting. After a few feeble efforts at conversation, she snapped that she didn’t want to talk. Then she popped in earphones, cranked up her music and shut her eyes.
When they returned to the ranch, she retreated to her bedroom while Reed saw to the stock. A couple of hours later, dripping in sweat, muscles he hadn’t used in years sore from hauling hay and water, he crawled into the shower.
After cleaning up, he headed downstairs to work on dinner. He’d learned to cook out of necessity when he and some college buddies lived off campus his senior year. Unable to afford eating out every day and sick of boxed mac and cheese, he’d turned to the internet and the Food Network.
He glanced at his watch. Not even six and he felt as though it was after midnight. As Reed added chopped garlic, onions and ginger to the chicken breasts cooking in the skillet, the aromas engulfed him. Though the sleek stainless-steel-and-earth-toned kitchen looked nothing like the one he remembered growing up, he still could see his mom standing in the same spot as he did now.
Life had been so different before she died of breast cancer.
He often wondered why she had married his father. Talk about opposites. His mom loved to cuddle up with her sons every night before bed and read to them. He could still hear bits and pieces of Green Eggs and Ham read in her soothing voice. His mom quickly and generously offered support and encouragement, while his father tossed out criticism and orders. When his temper exploded at his sons, his mom stepped in and smoothed things over or took the blows. She also kept his father’s drinking in check. All that changed when she died.
Reed tossed sliced carrots, snap peas, broccoli and soy sauce in the pan. Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough for his father. When he showed an interest in business and computers, his father took that as a personal rejection. Ranching had been good enough for Aaron Montgomery and his father
