The Dalmatian Dilemma

by Cheryl Harper

Sean didn’t give up easily. Eventually he said, “Okay, but that’s not exactly what I came in to discuss.” He cleared his throat. “I had more of a service in mind, not a new policy.”

  He leaned forward. “What if the veterans here at Concord Court could help other vets by training the dogs? I have two volunteers already, and the shelter’s identified three dogs that might work. The three of us will do what I’ve been doing, fostering and training, getting the service animal certification, and sending the dog on to the lucky veteran who needs the support. Until I have the certification needed to be a trainer and tester, we’ll set up a dedicated class at the Dade Dog Training Club. It’s not a lot of expense, and three veterans will benefit.”

  “Six veterans, actually,” Brisa murmured. “The three who get the dogs, of course, but the three doing the training have a chance to give something back, and that is part of the mission here at Concord Court. Plus, you’re saving the dogs. I mean, it’s pretty genius.”

  Reyna watched Sean’s face as he absorbed all of Brisa’s words. It was the same as the sun burning through heavy cloud cover on the only Saturday you have to spend at the beach.

  He immediately sat up straighter.

  Because everything she’d said was correct.

  “But.” Reyna hated to do it. Both of them had such hopeful expressions. She, as the Luis Montero representative in the room, would have to be the hammer. As usual. “Concord Court is meant to first support the men and women who stay here. This would be a distraction from the main mission.”

  Brisa rolled her eyes. Sean obviously wanted to do the same.

  “And spending money on something that isn’t a part of the mission will be a problem.” Reyna picked up her pen. “It’s not that I don’t like the suggestion, but...”

  “Should we wait and take some time to think this through?” Brisa asked and flashed a fake grin. “Why do I have this hunch that the answer will still be no—to both good suggestions we’ve covered here today—because of some other perfectly valid reason?”

  Reyna sighed. “Listen, we’re getting fully up and running. I don’t want to overextend what is limited staff right now. And you, Brisa...” She shook her head. “You understand why I hesitate. Sean has been here. He’s been pulling more of the load lately than he should have, and it would be smart to give us more time to do things the right way than jump in because we’re excited.”

  Not that Brisa would ever get that. She was a jump-in-with-both-feet kind of person and Reyna loved and hated that about her.

  Brisa slowly crossed her legs. There was no pout on her face. Or anger or disappointment or any of the things Reyna expected. Instead, there was a shrewd expression, a serious consideration of the situation.

  This was new.

  Growing up, Brisa had followed Reyna’s lead in everything.

  Having her sister question her decisions could take some adjustment.

  “Just exactly how many Saturdays have you covered, Sean?” Brisa didn’t turn his way. Her gaze was locked on Reyna, so Reyna did her best to perfect her poker face in that instant.

  Sean studied her before facing Reyna. “More than a month? I’m not sure. I could check a calendar and figure it out. I don’t mind doing it, but sometimes...I can’t.”

  Brisa nodded. “And have you been overwhelmed by the work and programs here at Concord Court while you’ve been waiting for an assistant manager to come on board?”

  Reyna dragged her eyes away from her sister’s to see that Sean had no clue how to answer that. If he said yes, he’d be saying he didn’t have time to run his own program.

  And if he said no, he’d look like a slacker.

  “You expect something to be different at the end of three months, Reyna.” Brisa pursed her lips. “What is it?”

  Sneaking around had never been Reyna’s strong suit. She’d learned that the hard way at ten years old, after she’d opted out of her first stepmother’s thirtieth birthday party by claiming a bad case of the shingles. The news story that had inspired her lie had explained clearly that anyone who’d had chickenpox might be susceptible to the eruption of a painful rash due to the same virus. Since a shingles outbreak could also be contagious and a danger to others, it had been the perfect solution to a problem. Unfortunately, Reyna had missed the fact that a ten-year-old experiencing a shingles outbreak in 1990 might deserve her own news story.

  The housekeeper who’d carried her message to her father hadn’t seen the story. Fooling her had been easy enough, but her father had been certain shingles happened to older people. Much older. Even older than he was.

  Now, Reyna would be able to support her claim with proof that shingles could occur at any age. Back then, she’d learned a few painful lessons.

  Lying to her father had consequences. Both she and Brisa had been punished, even though the lie had been Reyna’s alone. Her father understood then, and now, what mattered most to Reyna.

  Sometimes she still felt guilty about the way Brisa had missed out on her favorite cartoons for months because her father had removed their television. Brisa had been confused and sad about it, and she’d never understood that she’d done nothing wrong.

  If Reyna understood anything about sneaking around, it was that sometimes you had to double down. If you could do it with logic, so much the better. “I anticipate we’ll have filled more of the units here, at least half of them, and we’ll have a better grasp on what is required for day-to-day operations. Dad will have been satisfied I can run the place. That will open the door for expansion, and expansion the way I want to do it, not him.” It made perfect sense.

  “Fine.” Brisa nodded. “I’ll buy all that. But what you have to do is tell me what you’ve been doing every Saturday for a solid month or more. I won’t complain about your lack of faith in me for at least three months. What’s kept you away from Concord Court?”

  Brisa’s firm stance was new. In the past, whenever Reyna told her little sister to stay out of her business, she had. At some point, Brisa had grown up. This time, she didn’t back down.

  To buy time, Reyna answered, “Easy enough.” Then she sipped her coffee.

  The realization that she should have spent more time learning to lie better burned all the way down to her toes.

  In that moment, Reyna couldn’t come up with a believable way to cover her plan.

  What was she going to do?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SEAN HAD NEVER been more uncomfortable on the job in his life. Since he’d managed some large, unruly crews in his time, that was saying something, but watching two beautiful and completely different women face off was impossible to look away from. If he’d been a fly on the wall or separated from them by protective glass, he might have enjoyed finding out who would win. As it was, he shifted in his seat and considered stepping between them.

  “If you keep this up, you’re going to short out the electrical system,” he drawled and then forced himself to stay perfectly still as both sets of blazing brown eyes turned his direction. “Whole lot of heat coming off the two of you.” He held up both hands in surrender.

  “If you knew her the way I do, you would understand that she can’t lie to save her life. Her only defense is silence.” Brisa made a broad gesture to indicate that it was fully on display at that point. “The fact that she’s admitting she needs help at all? Something big is going on. If we don’t get the truth now, well...”

  “We won’t have it.” He’d never dealt with a family showdown like this one. The Monteros butted heads; the Wakefields went along to get along because family was family forever. “Doesn’t change the job or the fact that what the boss says goes. Reyna doesn’t owe us any more.” He waited for one of them to argue or agree with him. “And that’s where we are, Brisa.”

  Watching Brisa’s shoulders slump was hard. He had spent time with her over the course of getting the Court up and going
. Facts were facts. She had a presence, and the world turned at her instruction. Few people told her no like her sister was attempting to do.

  He’d stood his own against some of her crazier plans for decor, due in big part to having the Montero budget to swing like a sword. Brisa’s father could shut her down with a stern frown, but Sean had never seen anyone else gainsay her.

  Apparently there was one other person who could: her sister.

  Since said sister was his boss, he owed it to her and his paycheck to come down on her side.

  Brisa raised her eyebrows at him. He gave his head a slight shake. Reyna’s priorities were solid. She was smart.

  He trusted Reyna.

  Then the muffled thump snapped them out of their silent argument.

  Reyna had bent forward to press her forehead against her desk.

  When she didn’t immediately straighten back up, Sean reached toward her. “Reyna, are you okay?”

  He could see that her eyes were closed. The uncharacteristic action shook him. Had they broken her? He stood and moved around the desk to bend down and wrap his arm around her shoulders. The extreme silence in the lobby meant his own breathing was too loud. “Come on. Use your words.”

  “This is new,” Brisa whispered. “Just tell us. You can trust us.”

  Sean squeezed Reyna’s shoulder, surprised at how delicate she was under his hand. The rose pendant was missing, but he was reminded of it as he inhaled slowly. Roses. He could smell roses. And she was strong. Capable. She’d flown a fighter jet and commanded a squad.

  But at this moment, he might as well have been a banyan tree, big enough to hide her completely if she needed it.

  Get a grip, Wakefield. As much grief as you gave Ward over his poetry assignment, you know you are no poet.

  Eventually Reyna turned her head to stare up at him. “She’s right. About the lies. I can’t do it.”

  Sean’s relief was immediate. “I was afraid you were dying. Good to know the threat of lying turns all your bones to rubber.”

  When one corner of her mouth curved up, he squeezed her shoulder again and then reminded himself that it might be more touching than was strictly required for first aid at this point. As she straightened in her seat, he eased back.

  The sharp ache in his knee reminded him of where he was. If he didn’t stand up now, he might not be able to. Old football injuries compounded by Uncle Sam’s training and the bumps and bruises of construction had wrecked his right knee. Babying kept it working mostly like a knee should.

  Squatting, while bent over, did not.

  He tried hard to pretend he wasn’t suffering any pain, but his grimace bled through.

  Reyna offered him her hand for assistance, but he struggled through it to lean against her desk for a second. “Do you need my chair?” she asked.

  Before he could explain he was fine, Brisa reminded them both she was there. “What he needs is the truth. Trust us, Reyna. Don’t try to distract us by pretending to care about Sean.”

  Ouch. Pretending to care?

  As he plopped back down in the chair, Sean sighed at the relief of taking the weight off his leg, but he could still feel the pain of Brisa’s jab.

  Which was silly.

  He did a good job. It wasn’t necessary for Reyna to care about him.

  Was it?

  “You said I’m no good at pretending. I do care. About Sean. About all the vets here. And Charlie. And about you.” Reyna scrubbed her hands over her cheeks and then shook out her arms, as if she was letting go of something. “I told myself if I came home, things would be different.”

  Brisa nodded. “Good. Trust me. Whatever it is, I’m ready.”

  Sean was prepared for almost anything.

  Reyna’s expression said, “I’ve killed an innocent person.”

  Brisa’s was set on “Tell me the truth or you’re next.”

  “I literally cannot stand the tension,” Sean drawled and stood back up to pace.

  Reyna cleared her throat. “But you stood up. You were sitting before, so...” She huffed out a breath as Brisa shook her head. “Fine. I’ve been attending school at night and on the weekends while Sean has covered the phones.” Then she shrugged.

  That was it? The big revelation that took all this buildup and the threat of sister-on-sister arguing?

  He was ready to let that be enough. Brisa had asked; her older sister had finally answered.

  And in a few months, they’d reevaluate all their programs. Nothing would change, and if the current “normal” wasn’t everything he wanted, at least it was comfortable.

  Except...

  Now that he’d watched Reyna physically melt down in the face of a lie, something he’d never witnessed a grown human do, he recognized the symptoms on her face. She was still, like prey depending on camouflage to protect her from a predator.

  Her weird, fake smile convinced him. They’d only gotten part of the story.

  He knew a real smile from Reyna Montero would be memorable. And this broad curve of her lips was not authentic.

  “What kind of school?” Sean asked as Brisa’s head snapped his direction.

  Reyna met his stare and he could see anxiety. He hated that. It was easier to believe Reyna was always confident and fearless.

  Sean crossed his arms over his chest. He’d learned not to rush in with solutions when he’d told his grandmother about five minutes after he’d moved to Miami that she needed to be in an assisted-living facility, a place for active people that would keep her out of trouble, and she’d threatened to box his ears.

  Old-school punishment.

  And it had made an impression. Sometimes women needed space. Telling them what to do was hardly ever the right answer.

  Reyna straightened her shoulders. “I’m getting my certificate to be a firefighter. I’ve completed the EMT training required in the state of Florida, so when I get this certificate and pass the fire department’s physical aptitude test, I’ll be ready to get a job as a firefighter. I don’t want to run Concord Court.”

  Sean tipped his head to the side. He still didn’t get it. What was the issue? Sounded like a good job. The quick flash of fire burning in the night sky irritated him. Fighting fires was nothing like the uncontained explosion of flames that woke him up in a sweat.

  “But you haven’t told Dad yet.” Brisa’s lips were flat. “Girl. I get it.”

  Sean sat back down. “You do?”

  Brisa nodded slowly. “He’s going to hate her decision. A lot. And when Luis Montero doesn’t like something, he does not hesitate to throw all of his considerable resources at changing it.” She wrinkled her nose. “We have Concord Court because he hated Reyna being in the Air Force.”

  Sean frowned. Luis Montero’s stated reason for the development of the property had been the serious need for veterans’ facilities in a metropolis the size of Miami—and not the same old solutions but something new to the city. Patriotism. Philanthropy. Those had been his speaking points at the groundbreaking ceremony and the ribbon cutting and every time Sean had seen Luis in any news story.

  But Brisa believed Concord Court was only a string to tie his oldest daughter home.

  “Is that true?” Sean asked. Luis Montero as a boss was easy enough to understand. He made all the decisions and expected them to be executed perfectly and with little input. Clear. Decisive.

  Apparently Montero ran his family like he did his business.

  Sean had no concept of what it must be like to live with a father who was determined to have his way. Luis Montero had gotten comfortable pulling the strings when he paid all the bills. Reyna and Brisa were still tangled in those strings.

  The only tools the women in his family had at their disposal were noisy advice, which was really an order, and a lack of shame. He listened to their advice because he loved them, but ev
ery decision was his own. They could encourage, but there was nothing his grandmother or aunts could do to make him change his course.

  “When I turned sixteen, Dad told me to pick out whatever car I wanted.” Brisa raised her eyebrows. “Can you even imagine how wonderful that would be?”

  Sean shook his head. He really couldn’t.

  “The car was parked in the driveway when he mentioned one little string. He was dating a new woman.” Brisa straightened her skirt. “As long as I was friendly to her, the car was mine.” She smiled. “Which was easy enough, since it was Marisol, and she’s been the best thing to happen to the Monteros, but that’s the sort of strategy our father employs. The strings don’t seem so bad until you want something different. Because the strings stay until he decides to let them go.”

  The lobby was quiet for a minute. Sean understood better, but they were adults now. Change was possible.

  “You still don’t get the whole picture, Sean. On one of our weekly phone calls while I was in the military, Dad reminded me it was time to retire.” Reyna snorted. “Almost as if he had the first date I could do so circled in red on his calendar. I told him then I had no intention of leaving, and besides that, what would I do with myself if I got out?”

  Brisa raised her eyebrows at her sister’s explanation.

  “Huge mistake,” Reyna said. “We talked every week on Monday evening, like clockwork, unless I couldn’t because of a mission. It was like brunch without the professional chef.”

  Brisa wrinkled her nose.

  “Anyway, a month later, he texted me a link to his newest venture. At that point, the only thing on the website was an artist’s rendering of Concord Court.” Reyna gripped the edge of her desk. “He doesn’t understand no. Refuses to.”

  Sean whistled. “He paid for that in a month?” And then he understood.

  Brisa patted his hand. This time he understood it to be “you poor child” in tone.

  “He’d been planning it for a while. Every time I turned down his advice to come home, he probably sank another few million in a rainy-day extortion fund to make me this grand offer.” Reyna shook her head. “And it’s almost the only thing that could have worked. What kind of terrible person turns her back on a chance to help vets like this?” She held out both hands to indicate the tasteful, comfortable lobby. “Lucky vets go home, where they may struggle to get back into life stateside. Some are wounded—they’ll go to rehab facilities—but so many men and women need something else. Years spent going where the military sends you and then...what? Where do they go next? Where do they work? So build them a spot, but instead of government bare bones, you have a place like this, a home with built-in support, a place to acclimate. Only the worst kind of person would say ‘no, thank you’ to the man who is offering to build that.”