and stepped back to let him pass.
“Try it your way, but if that doesn’t work, let’s see if I can’t come up with a solution.” To please her, he stepped back into the lobby. From here, he could see Chloe leaning against his truck, her cell phone in one hand. If she was taking a photo for social media, he was going to be in so much trouble. Olivia would have plenty to say about that scratch.
Will pulled out his phone and started checking his online accounts before scrolling through his contacts. Get the shelter situation settled. Distract Chloe. That was the plan for the rest of the day.
“Why would you help? Two days ago you were ready to call the cops. Two minutes ago you wanted to let me have it because your daughter got hurt. But you’ll call in favors for me? I don’t get it.” Her eyes were bright with tears, red and swollen to match her nose. Her T-shirt was covered in hair of every color imaginable.
“You need my help. That’s why.” It was as simple and complicated as that.
“I do,” she said, and then sniffed. “I really do.”
Her breakdown didn’t last long enough for him to figure out what to do about it. She straightened her shoulders and said, “Thank you, Will. That’s all I can say right now. Someday I hope I’ll be in a position to help you or someone else the way you’ve helped me already.”
“Okay. Fine. Come into the office on Monday and we’ll take a look at what you’ve got.”
Sarah trailed him to the parking lot. Bub peered out at them through the shelter’s glass door.
“You okay?” he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.
Chloe grunted. “Yeah, but you better not be going back on your word. That was more than twenty minutes.” She waved her bandaged arm. “And I have the wound to prove it.”
“One call. That’s it. Then we hit the lake. Hard.” He pulled out his cell phone and flipped through his contacts until he landed on the vice president of operations at the local electric cooperative. When John Garcia answered, they made small talk about the weather and golf games. Then Will said, “I’ve got a big favor to ask. I have a friend who’s behind on the bills for the animal shelter she’s running. Is there any way I could come by and make a payment and you could get the lights back on this afternoon?” When John agreed, Will said, “Great, I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and counted down to Chloe’s angry outburst.
Instead, she said, “One stop. Then we hit the lake. Hard.” When she held up her hand, he high-fived it and then rolled down the windows. One stop and he’d put Paws for Love and Sarah Hillman out of his mind.
AFTER WEARING HERSELF out making lists of things to fix and people to call, Sarah closed the washing machine door and jammed it shut with the table knife stored on top. A towel was already on the floor to catch any drips, but she nudged it closer before she twisted the knob to start the wash. Doing laundry every day was a drag.
Doing laundry at all was a drag. And getting the beat-up machine in the shelter’s cramped supply closet to work took real engineering. Every day, about this time, she remembered fondly the space-age shiny washer and dryer in her sweet condo.
Oh, well. In her new place, she’d have fancy machines with all the bells and whistles, but this time she’d know how awesome her washer and dryer were.
Someday. This whole experiment in taking care of herself had started as a way to make sure everything seemed normal. One day her dad was there. The next he was gone and the police wanted to know where, when and why.
Playing dumb had been easy enough. All her father had said before he slid into his Cadillac was “Take care of business.”
At the dealership, that had been his way of telling her he was out to lunch and she was in charge.
Mainly, she’d been in charge of telling people when Bobby Hillman would be back.
Now she wished she had a clue.
Every day, her situation got a little more serious. Selling everything she loved, except for the convertible, was about as low as she could go.
Or so she’d thought. Now she was daydreaming about fancy laundry equipment—a sign her life had taken a drastic turn.
She hit Start and stared at the knob when nothing happened. Then she realized the electricity was still out. She’d been squinting at the notepad in her office for so long a wrinkle was forming over the bridge of her nose, and now she’d tried to start the washing machine. In the dark. Like an idiot.
“So many talents I never knew I had. None of them are worthwhile without electricity,” she said with a sigh, and glanced over at Bub. He was patiently carrying around his plastic bowl. He would continue to do so until she’d crossed every single item off the to-do list. “Good idea. Let’s eat.”
Bub, the smartest person in the room, knew exactly what she meant. His wagging tail shook his whole body when she took his bowl and filled it with dry dog food. “Such a good boy you are.” She wasn’t sure he could hear her over his own crunching but surely he got the gist.
Bub’s fortunes had been a roller-coaster ride. First, he’d been abandoned at the town’s landfill, then rescued by some well-meaning types who didn’t know what to do with a puppy. Since he’d been surrendered, he’d bounced from one foster to the latest one who’d brought him back to the shelter, intent on ending her association with Paws for Love due to the unsavory Hillman connection.
Sarah had made Bub her roommate. Temporarily. When the shelter was staffed and reopened to surrenders, Bub would go back into the general population. For now, she was his foster.
Living out of a suitcase and sleeping on the office’s couch.
Poor Bub.
Finally, instead of a rampaging beast intent on carnage, Bub was a normal dog again. He’d reached the point in his meal where he could sit and savor. Sarah pulled down the loaf of white bread and the peanut butter jar to make her thousandth sandwich.
Bub licked his lips slowly.
“Peanut butter would hit the spot, huh?” She shook her head at his mournful expression. “Not today.” The jar had to last her a long time. Sarah reached into the cabinet to grab a treat. “Have one of these instead.”
With her sandwich in one hand, Sarah went back into her office to grab the notepad and then led Bub through the shelter to the play yard.
Shelly was watering the pitiful row of plants along the fence.
“What are you still doing here? I thought you went home.” If she’d known Shelly was still around, she’d have... Sarah wasn’t sure. At the very least, she’d have given up on the budget sooner.
“I wanted to wait until the electricity came back on.” Shelly shut off the hose. “Besides, I like it here.”
As Sarah ate her sandwich, she considered that—preferring to spend time at the shelter
