Million Dollar Date

by Susan Hatler

The corners of my lips turned downward. “You seem happy now.”

  “You need more whipped cream.” Courtney squirted more whipped cream for me and then set the can back in the mini-fridge. “As I was saying, I met Beth when I was a lawyer. She was in an abusive relationship and felt trapped.”

  My stomach churned. “How awful.”

  “It can be a very confusing thing when someone you love and trust starts hurting you. Self-preservation finally made Beth gain the courage to leave, but she had nowhere to go.”

  “What happened?” I asked, knowing there wasn’t enough whipped cream in the world for this conversation.

  She tilted her head and gave me a prodding look. “There was a young lawyer named Jill Parnell, who was taking Sacramento by storm. Trying the toughest cases, going head-to-head with the best attorneys in town and winning.”

  Jill Parnell. Jill Parnell. Why did that name sound so familiar?

  “Out of a series of circumstances, one day she served breakfast to the homeless and came face to face with Beth,” Courtney said, meeting my eye. “They were the same age and even looked quite a bit alike. Jill said it had been like looking into a mirror.”

  My face went numb as I remembered where I’d heard the name Jill Parnell.

  “Do you know what saved Beth, Abigail?”

  I shook my head, waiting for the answer.

  “Yes, you do. Deep down, I think you know.”

  What I knew then was why I needed the extra, extra, extra whipped cream. Because the taste left in my mouth was bitter. And it was all my own doing. “Jill is the director of Founding Friendships.”

  “Beth is the reason Jill started Founding Friendships.” Courtney nodded, giving me a sympathetic look. “Jill told me she realized that under a different set of circumstances she could’ve been Beth. So, serving breakfast to Beth didn’t feel like enough for Jill. She wanted to give Beth the opportunity to rebuild her life. Housing, counseling, job training, caring support . . . the whole bit.”

  “That’s why Jill started the homeless outreach program? On her own? The non-profit has grown so big now,” I said, realizing it would be doing even better with the committee’s generous donation.

  “She’s a very determined woman. She put together a team to form Founding Friendships and they started with helping just one person: Beth. Guess what Beth is doing now?”

  I shook my head. “Tell me.”

  “Beth is in her second year of law school.” Courtney smiled as if she were beyond proud. “She has a heart for representing and defending other victims of domestic violence. And she’s ferocious. I hope she does a better job at balancing her hours than I did.”

  “I hope so, too,” I said, feeling bad for Courtney, but impressed by Beth. But then my shoulders sagged and I hung my head. “I don’t begrudge Founding Friendships the donation. I just really wanted Cooper to vote for Rescue at the Barn to save all those dogs, who mean so much to me. Now who knows what will happen to them?”

  Courtney reached across the cart and squeezed my forearm. “In a perfect world, there would be enough money to go around. We just have to do the best we can.” She paused as if pondering something. “If it were a perfect world,” she said, tapping her chin with her other finger, “the dogs wouldn’t need rescuing at all. They would all be in wonderful homes with people loving them, like the home you’ve made for Banana.”

  “And never-ending whipped cream,” I added with a smile. I could feel Banana stirring from his mid-morning nap in my purse.

  “But we don’t live in a perfect world, Abigail,” she reminded me. “Sometimes hard decisions need to be made like the one Officer Hill had to make. And I’m sure he felt he was making the best choice he could under such difficult circumstances.”

  I nodded, getting what she meant. Someone cleared his throat behind me and when I looked up, I noticed the line now extended down the sidewalk. But Courtney stayed focused on me, making me wonder if she knew they were there. Nobody said anything though. Were they listening to Courtney’s story?

  “When I was unhappy and unfulfilled as a lawyer,” she went on, “I knew my heart wanted more from life, but it was terrifying to take that leap and make a change. And when Beth was faced with the hard decision about escaping her old life, she followed her heart even though she was leaping out into the great unknown. And you followed your heart and fought for the dog rescue,” she said, smiling gently.

  “Just like Cooper did by voting for Founding Friendships,” I finished, as a light bulb switched on above my head. The words ah-ha didn’t escape from my lips and there wasn’t a physical blindfold pulled from my eyes but now I could see clearly. “I asked Cooper for support with what was important to me but I never did the same for him.”

  “Since you’ve obviously figured things out, I believe I’m ready for the next person in line,” Courtney said, glancing over my shoulder. “What will you have, sir?”

  As Courtney filled the man’s coffee order, my mind reeled. I’d accused Cooper of thinking with his head over his heart, but I should’ve turned that accusation on myself. If I’d stopped to think with my own head for just a moment then I could’ve seen what was in Cooper’s heart.

  Instead, I’d stomped all over it.

  I placed my hand over Courtney’s and squeezed it just like she had just squeezed my arm. “Thanks for the coffee, Courtney.”

  “Coffee is good for the soul.” She winked, tamping down the espresso grounds. “What about Atticus Aaron Carmichael?”

  “Hmm . . .” I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. “Solid name, but Atticus reminds me of To Kill A Mockingbird and To Kill A Mockingbird reminds me of high school and high school reminds me of acne and gym class. I’m going to have to veto that one, Courtney.”

  Courtney sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t win them all, I suppose.”

  “Hey, Courtney?” I asked, waiting until she glanced up at me. “It’s never too late to adopt a furry friend and name him Atticus. In fact, that might be a nice name for a poodle-mix I know.”

  She paused a moment and then her face lit up even more than it had. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all year. We’ll talk later.”

  After I nodded, she returned to her coffee as I strode down the sidewalk, cinnamon-dolce in hand, and a whole new understanding in my heart.

  ****

  As I hurried down the sidewalk, my cell phone rang out the latest Justin Timberlake song. I glanced at the screen, noting it was Hannah. I answered as I climbed into my car so I could drive to Reagan’s farm to help move the dogs.

  “Hey, Hannah. I can’t—”

  “I love public speaking!” she yelled.

  I almost dropped the phone trying to move it away from my ear so as to not go deaf from the high-pitched squealing that followed her announcement. “We obviously have a bad connection. It sounded like you said you like public speaking.”

  “No, Abigail. I love public speaking,” she said and then screamed. Oh, ear damage. “Love it, love it, love it! It is my most favorite thing in the entire world!”

  In the passenger seat next to me Banana lifted his ears and quirked his head to the side in curiosity at the inhuman sound blasting from my phone.

  “It’s Hannah,” I mouthed, covering the speaker.

  That must have made perfect sense to Banana because he then turned to the fan in front of him and resumed licking at the fresh air (aka: the air conditioning) blowing toward him. A pang of sadness struck me when I remembered Cooper sitting there, holding my precious little baby up to the window so he could be a big dog for a moment. It hurt even more to remember the way Cooper smiled at Banana so I pushed the mental image from my mind and focused on the road and, more importantly, my friend who was clearly having a mental breakdown.

  “Okay, so what exactly is going on?” I asked, as the Bluetooth finally transferred my call to car speakers so I could be hands free.

  “I’m telling you, I love public speaking more than eating fre
shly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.”

  Blasphemy.

  “I love it more than wiggling my toes in the sand on a bright summer’s day with the wind in my hair.”

  Madness.

  “Abigail, I love it more than the feeling of a sweater when it comes right out of the dryer on a winter night.”

  That is the best feeling in the world and everyone knows it.

  “You’re clearly stuck in an alternate universe,” I said, taking advantage of the single moment of non-yelling as Hannah was forced to suck in a shaky breath. “Public speaking is the worst and we all agreed. What changed?”

  “Well, I did something absolutely crazy that you’ll never believe,” Hannah said, using a lower volume that was less likely to result in permanent ear damage. “I talked to my boss, Jennifer.”

  “You talked to your boss about the public speaking she wanted you to do even though it’s her job.” I chuckled as I turned onto the country road that would lead me to Reagan’s Rescue at the Barn. “Gutsy move, Hannah.”

  “I know,” she said, and I could almost see her rolling her eyes. “It was crazy, right? But it turns out that I’ve been seeing things all wrong.”

  “Do tell.”

  “She wasn’t trying to dump her work on me,” Hannah explained. “She’s thinking of me for this huge promotion and wanted to see if I was capable of more responsibilities.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.” Hannah laughed. “And here I thought she wanted to stick me with the terrible tasks she didn’t want to do and the whole time she had my best intentions at heart. I mean, I can’t believe it. What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking about how much you loathed public speaking,” I said, glancing at Banana who looked over at me with a look that roughly translated to “Girl, I’m trying to enjoy this ride. Can you ask her to keep it down?”

  “I should have just trusted my boss,” Hannah said, letting out a groan that sounded like she was in pain. “Why in the world didn’t I just trust her?”

  I glanced up at the sky through my sunroof. Between Courtney and now Hannah it was clear the universe was trying to pound it into my head that I should’ve trusted Cooper. At least that’s the way it seemed to me and I totally got it now.

  “I’m super happy for you, Hannah. But I’m turning into Reagan’s place so I have to run.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry about her rescue. You know I wish I could be there for you guys and not at work today.”

  “I know,” I said, with a sigh. “See you later.”

  We said our goodbyes and I hung up as I pulled my car onto the little gravel lot beside the red barn and parked. I could see the dogs running in the fields and Banana could clearly hear them since his tail started to wag vigorously. Reagan must be trying to get out all of their energy before we had to drive them to the animal shelter.

  I rested my forehead against my steering wheel and closed my eyes.

  How was I supposed to trust Cooper when he lied to me? He promised that no matter what Rescue at the Barn would not be shut down and yet his vote had ensured that it would be. How could I possibly trust a man who lied, no matter how good his reasons?

  A thump at my window made me jump and I looked over to find two paws and a big drool of saliva dripping down my car. First of all, ew. Second of all, I wanted to cry.

  Oh, the emotions were coming and they were coming fast.

  I grabbed Banana from my purse as my throat squeezed and stepped out of the car. The backs of my eyes burned, even in the cool breeze that swept across the farm. Encircled by wagging tails and stinky dog breath I never wanted to stop smelling, I sagged against my car and sank down to the gravel.

  There I cried as I tried to hug as many of the dogs as I could, a sort of doggy team hug. I wanted every lick to stay there wet and slobbery forever. Dog hair soon covered my outfit and it just made me cry harder knowing that I’d bought a huge pack of lint rollers that I would now never need. I pulled each dog to my chest and kissed his or her head, totally ignoring the hair that was most certainly coating my tongue. My emotions easily outweighed my common sense, what little of it I’d had in the first place, for however long I remained out there against my car surrounded by the best animals to ever live. Time stood still right now in my state of misery.

  “Abigail?” Reagan called.

  With blurry vision, I craned my neck over the crowding dogs to see Reagan walking toward me from the barn. When she saw me, probably looking like a hot mess, she hurried over.

  “What are you doing down there?” she asked.

  “I can’t do it, Reagan,” I wailed. “I can’t say goodbye to them. We have to do something to save these dogs,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to spit out a wiry hair on my tongue. “We can’t just give up.”

  “Abigail, don’t you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, it’s in the car since I was talking to Hannah.” I squeezed the neck of a Great Dane mix. “Look, I know you shot the idea down the first time, but I still think we could rob a bank. There’s a sale on black ski caps at the mall right now. Let’s just go rob a bank, okay?”

  “Abigail, I called—”

  “I’m not violent and I know you’re not violent, but what about this?” I lifted Banana above the other dogs. “We go to your landlord’s place and have Banana lick his toes until he relents and gives you back the farm. If we get caught, surely the police will understand,” I said, immediately thinking of Cooper arriving in his uniform. He would so give me a ticket or take me to jail if he had to, good reason or not.

  Reagan crossed her arms and frowned. “You’re talking crazy again.”

  “Air writing,” I blurted, trying to stand up. My attempt failed quickly as I realized one of the bigger dogs was sitting happily on my lap. “We rent a plane and write in the sky: Save Rescue at the Barn,” I said, knowing for certain that it was the most brilliant idea ever thought up. “Everyone in Sacramento would see it.”

  Reagan raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how to fly a plane?”

  I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. “Details, Reagan. Mere details.”

  She rolled her eyes and waded through the dogs. It was slow moving as they all jumped up on her. “Abigail, where is your phone?”

  She crawled into my car. I stretched my neck around to see her dirty boots poking out.

  “I don’t know,” I said, wondering why she needed a phone. “I guess it’s in my purse. Do you know a pilot? Are you calling a pilot? A bank robber for advice?”

  Her head popped back out of the car and she held out my phone for me to see. “I texted you earlier,” she said.

  “Okay . . .” I squinted at the text on my screen and then shook my head. I read the words again. I rubbed my eyes and tried reading them once more. Then I pinched myself and still it read the same. I couldn’t believe it, but I wasn’t dreaming and my vision wasn’t failing.

  The text message read: The buyer of the property just gave ME the farm. Just GAVE it to me. Abigail, Rescue at the Barn isn’t going anywhere. Call me! Ahhhh!!!!

  When I looked up Reagan was standing above me with a huge grin on her face.

  “Really?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Really.”

  Her grin turned into a full-blown smile and my eyes watered, but this time they were happy tears. I smiled and we hugged and we jumped up and down, until the most obvious question entered my mind. I pulled back and looked at Reagan.

  “Who would do such a thing?” I asked, and then my breath caught in my throat.

  There was one person who had promised me the rescue would be safe and he really did seem like the kind of person to keep a promise. But the hundred-thousand-dollar donation was only enough for a down payment on the property and not enough to buy it. Plus, the check had already gone to Founding Friendships. So, how in the world had Cooper saved the rescue?

  Chapter Ten

  Well, here I was again, speeding down a country road with Banana at my side
and more emotions than I knew what to do with bubbling up inside me: regret, anxiety, gratitude, happiness, joy, the “ugh, why do I make a mess out of everything and anything in life” emotion, and one more that I felt was nearing a certain L-word.

  And I didn’t mean lava cake.

  My feelings felt like waves crashing over me and I pushed my foot down harder and harder on the pedal thinking a slice of lava cake actually sounded good right now.

  But I had to get to Cooper as fast as I could. I had to get to him now, which didn’t seem soon enough. I had to get to him this morning, or better yet yesterday morning. No, I had to get to him all the way back at the moment that I’d yelled at him on the steps at City Hall.

  But going back in time was impossible.

  So I’d have to settle for as soon as I could and hope that would be soon enough.

  I thought back to earlier when I’d had gravel under my bottom, the warm metal of my car against my back, the dogs all around me, and Reagan’s smile above me. I’d looked up at her and asked the most obvious question, “Who would do such a thing?”

  Who had purchased the farm from Reagan’s landlord? Who had that much money lying around? Who had gifted the property to her without wanting anything in return? Who had saved Rescue at the Barn? Who saved the single place on earth that mattered most to me?

  “Who would do such a thing?” I’d asked her.

  She looked down at me and smiled. “Don’t you know? Come on, Abigail. You must know who would do such a thing.”

  “Sorry,” I’d said, shaking my head. “I don’t know any millionaires, who could afford to buy that property.”

  She crossed her arms. “Apparently you know one.”

  “Who?” I’d asked, wishing she’d just answer that question so we wouldn’t have to go through all this nonsense. I wanted to know who I had to thank. I wanted to know who I owed my eternal gratitude to. Why wouldn’t she just tell me?

  And then she told me.

  “I have to go,” I’d said and hurried to my feet, searching the crowd of dogs for my tiny little Banana. “Oh, my goodness, Reagan, I totally have to go. Like now.”