little but the smile was nearly convincing.
“One hour.” Sarah set the timer on her phone. “If the lights aren’t on in one hour, I’ll suit back up and head into town. Electricity is nonnegotiable.”
The cash Cece had given her would be enough to buy time.
She shouldn’t have given Will the chance to intercede.
The list of things she had to fix, pay for, hire and manage ruffled in the breeze.
Rest. Just a minute. Close your eyes and rest.
“You’re doing a good job, you know?” At Shelly’s encouragement, Sarah’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t give up on us. Not yet.”
While she fussed with her drooping ponytail, Sarah said, “You run this place single-handedly. If I didn’t come in tomorrow, these animals would be in good hands.”
Shelly waved a hand to brush Sarah’s answer aside. “I mean it. Don’t give up, Sarah. This place needs you. I need you. I did run the shelter by myself for a week or two and it was...overwhelming. I need support, some company.” Shelly rubbed Bub’s ears as he trotted up, obviously satisfied that all the new smells were acceptable. “Actual, live people. Having someone to talk with while I work makes everything easier.”
“Okay. I’ll keep trying.” Sarah wished she was the kind of person who knew the right thing to say. She had plenty of practice with snarky set-downs. Encouragement was out of her comfort zone, but whatever Shelly heard, it was enough.
Somehow, making the promise gave Sarah a tiny boost of energy. Lately, she’d found herself swinging from justified doubts to the crazy certainty that she could handle whatever came up.
But Shelly was here, working with her.
Bub went to stand patiently by the door. He was ready to go back inside apparently.
“He’s so well-trained,” Sarah said. “What is he doing in a shelter?” Sarah sighed as she and Shelly stood.
“It never gets easier to see smart, well-mannered pets staring out through chain link.” Shelly held the door open for Bub. “That’s why we do what we do.”
Being included in Shelly’s “we” felt right. At some point, Paws for Love had changed from a whim to a...cause.
Life wasn’t fair. Not for people, not for pets, but somewhere in the world was the person who deserved Bub and who would give him the love he should’ve had from the beginning. All she had to do was keep the doors open. They’d find each other eventually.
“Late in the day,” Shelly said. “Do you think the electricity is coming back on?”
The thought of a long night in the dark filled Sarah with dread, but she tried for a carefree shrug. Shelly couldn’t change a thing. There was no sense in adding to her worry.
Closing the door on the late-afternoon sun was easy enough, but when Sarah flipped the light switch and nothing happened, she was reminded how dark it could get without electricity. Sunset always made her less brave, more afraid of the future and what it might hold.
Sarah shook her head and forced herself to laugh along with Shelly. “Habit.” She pulled out her phone to check the time just as the whir of the shelter’s systems kicked in. Bright light illuminated curious kitties and ruthlessly clean floors before she moved on to the dog room. Instead of a loud celebration, she got a few curious head raises and then everyone settled back down.
Late afternoon was nap time. The schedule never changed much here.
“Oh, good. Everything can get back to normal. Giving meds in the dark would have been difficult,” Shelly said with a relieved sigh.
If Will Barnes had been standing with them under the bright lights, Sarah would have kissed him.
“Go home. The morning walks will come way too early.” Taking a chance, she hugged Shelly quickly. “We’re making progress. Tomorrow will be another good day.”
She watched Shelly get in her car and waved before she closed and locked the door.
All alone. Again. Sarah walked back to her office and pulled out her phone to check for missed calls. She dialed her father’s number, fingers crossed that this time he’d answer, and listened to the rings. When his voice mail picked up, she said, “Hi, Dad. I wanted to...check on you. I’m worried. Please call me.”
That’s all you can do. Immediately, images of her father hurt or worse flashed across her mind. Just stop. There’s no reason to think the worst.
Her peanut butter sandwich turned into a lump in her stomach.
Work was still the best distraction. Sarah grabbed the phone book. “Bids. The first step is finding out what a new roof and fence cost. Easy enough.” The yellow pages fell open to the page she’d turned to most often. “All for Animals.” The overcrowded Austin shelter would be her animals’ only hope if she walked away.
When she was stretched out on a beach somewhere, would it bother her that she’d let them down?
Her stomach lurched.
Bub gave a happy sigh. Somehow, he was stretched out the full length of the couch, all four feet in the air. Her response, a weird mishmash of amusement and concern, answered her question.
Paws for Love was hers. Leaving it without funding would haunt her. If she could turn the shelter around, she’d have something of her own to be proud of.
No one could say this had been given to her.
And when Holly Heights was nothing more than dust on her tires, she could enjoy the freedom.
“Sure wish I’d chosen business school, Bub.” She shifted in the broken-down office chair and studied the mess on her desk. At some point, she was going to have to get organized.
Since that would let her put off the hard work of identifying how much she didn’t know, Sarah started rearranging the stacks of overdue bills. “Food. Gotta pay for that first.” Or should she give the vets a portion of the cash? Sort of a good-faith gesture that she wasn’t going to leave them holding the bag.
She was adding up the costs of the most recent vet visits and cursing her lack of a computer when she remembered the bids she’d planned to gather first.
Her brain had always worked this way. In circles.
“Slow and steady, Sarah. Do one thing at a time.” She picked up her cell phone, hoping the calculator could help, when the shelter’s phone rang.
Had her father tracked her here? Was he calling the shelter to avoid the police?
“Paws for Love. This is Sarah.” Too late, she remembered her plan to avoid answering the phone. Nice bill collectors would hesitate to leave a message. And the rest? Well, they’d definitely leave a message, but she certainly didn’t want to talk to them.
Fingers crossed, she added, “How can I help you?”
“It’s Will. Are your lights
