Chapter Sixteen
“The closet organizer systems are coming next week, and once this counter comes out, we can install the extra crates.” Cassie led Sarah, Harry, and Melanie through the vet clinic, pointing out how each of her design ideas would be implemented. “You’ll be losing a section of your exam room, but you’ll be able to house up to thirty cats with this new layout.”
Sarah would have to store more of her supplies in her office. Would have to be more careful with her purchasing and not keep so much in inventory. But she could see it. This could work.
“What do you think?” Cassie rocked onto her toes, clearly excited.
“I don’t know.” Harry leaned his weight on the counter that was marked for demolition. “You don’t want to be eliminating space for a paying business to help some strays. A woman like you needs to be more practical.”
A woman like her? What did that even mean? The natural high she’d been on since last night dropped yet another notch. Sarah kept the smile on her face. Harry had more opinions on her life than a zebra had stripes. Her cats would kill her in her sleep. Her clients were taking advantage of her low prices. Her chicken piccata could use more capers.
She ground her back teeth. Her piccata was a frickin’ masterpiece. His years in the LA pollution had obviously killed his taste buds.
“As long as the changes don’t mess with my work,” Melanie said, “it’s cool.”
“I think she was asking my opinion,” Sarah said. Grasping Cassie’s forearm, she squeezed. “And I think it’s going to be amazing. Thank you.”
She rocked onto her toes. Everything was coming together. Her rescue nonprofit was going full-steam ahead. She was getting to know her bio dad, although, to be honest, the results of that were still kind of iffy. But she was sure it would work out. It had to. And as to her love life…
Being with James had been amazing. He was better than anything she could have imagined. The fact that he wasn’t staying in Shelter Bay, well, she just wouldn’t think too much about that right now. For once in her life she would live in the moment.
“I’m just glad your landlord agreed to the changes.” Cass bounced on her toes.
“I think you’re making a mistake.” Harry shrugged.
Sarah bit the inside of her cheek. He’s only trying to look out for you, she told herself. He’s being kind in his own annoying way.
The phone rang, and Melanie hurried around the counter to answer it.
“How about lunch?” Sarah asked Harry and Cassie. “My treat.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but I’ve got another client meeting.” Cassie looked at her cell and tapped something on the screen. “I’ve got to get back.”
Hefting his belt up his waist a couple inches, Harry looked interested for the first time that day. “Lunch sounds good to me. That Frenchie restaurant again? Or that steakhouse?”
Sarah’s purse felt lighter already. She flattened her lips into a smile. “Sure. Let’s—”
The bell above the clinic’s front door tinkled merrily. Sarah turned with a smile which quickly dropped when she saw who came marching through her door.
“Kimberlee,” she said warily. “How can I help you?” To be a rational person, she wanted to add. The flyers against her feral cat nonprofit were going up on telephone poles and store windows just as fast as Sarah took them down. She couldn’t understand how someone could be against helping feral cats.
The door opened again, bumping into Kimberlee’s rear end, knocking her forward and eliciting a snort from Cassie.
Sarah gave her friend a warning look. “Hi, Gladys,” she said to the newcomer. “I thought Jimmy’s appointment wasn’t until two.”
“It isn’t.” The woman bustled around them, a whirl of energy. “But I have an emergency coaching session this afternoon so I was hoping to drop my baby off now and pick him up after work.” She placed the cage Jimmy was in on the reception counter and greeted Melanie.
Jimmy, a beautiful parrotlet, flapped his wings in agitation.
“That’s fine.” Sarah nodded at her assistant. “Melanie will check him in.”
Kimberlee adjusted the knot on the scarf around her neck. “If we could get back to the matter at hand, I was hoping to hear that you’ve reconsidered your harebrained idea for the FFS.” She smirked as she said the letters.
“FFS?” The wrinkles in Harry’s forehead drew deeper. “For fuc—”
“Feral Feline Services,” Sarah bit out. “It stands for Feral Feline Services, the name of my new charity.”
“Oh.” Harry rubbed his stomach, any interest on his face evaporating. “I’m getting pretty hungry, sweet pea. Can you talk with your friend later?”
Sarah held up one finger, though clearing this up with the glass-blower would probably take longer than a minute. “No, Kimberlee. I still intend to help our feral cat population.”
“Help? You’ll be stripping away their freedom. Killing their spirits!”
Sarah’s shoulders clenched. “I’ll be helping them have safer, happier lives.”
Kimberlee planted her hands on her hips. “Do you know how many rodents feral cats kill every year? Without them, our bluffs would be infested with vermin.”
The feral cats were great hunters, but it didn’t seem fair to condemn them to hard lives simply because they were useful. “They also kill millions of birds a year.” Birds that ate lots of insects. No one wanted an insect infestation. She should probably check the numbers on that before she used it as an argument, however.
“Birds?” Kimberlee took a step forward. “Who cares about birds?”
Gladys slowly raised her hand.
“Oh, put your hand down, Gladys,” Kimberlee said. “The opinion of a crazy bird lady doesn’t count.”
“Says the crazy cat lady.” Cassie stepped next to Sarah. “Go home, Kimberlee. Stop causing problems.”
Kimberlee flipped the end of her scarf over her shoulder. “You haven’t seen me causing problems yet. My Facebook group has some interesting ideas on how to stop this nonsense.” She strode for the door. Holding it open, she paused. “Oh, and I saw your posts there,” she said to Sarah. “You’ve been banned.” And with that, she flounced out the door and stomped to her car.
“Was I banned?” Cassie muttered, pulling out her phone.
“Lunch now?” Harry asked.
“In a minute.” Sarah paced her lobby. “This is an annoyance, but not a big deal, right? No one’s paying attention to her flyers. I even got one person who mailed me a donation to FF— Feral Feline Services.”
“One person?” Cassie grimaced. “You’re going to need more than that to counteract Kimberlee’s campaign. Her Facebook group has over a thousand members now.”
Sarah froze. “Over one thousand people agree with her that I shouldn’t help cats?”
Cassie turned her phone outward so Sarah could see the screen. “One thousand two hundred and thirty-three to be exact.” She bit her bottom lip. “Is it mean to the cats to take away their freedom?”
“No!” Sarah gripped her braid. “The cats I’ll adopt out will go to good homes. They’ll have plenty of freedom and love. You can’t turn on this idea, too, Cassie. You just can’t.”
Cassie shoved her phone in her purse. “I’m not turning on it. I’ll help you in any way I can. Forget I said anything. Now, what can I do?”
“Uh…” What could they do? Sarah knew how to treat the cats, had already set up feeding stations where volunteers would give them their meals, but she didn’t know much about promotion. Scratch that. She didn’t know anything about promotion. How could she convince Shelter Bay this was the right thing to do?
“We can start with setting up our own Facebook group.” Melanie turned her computer screen towards her and started typing. “I’ll bet most of the people in Kimberlee’s group aren’t even from around here. Being against helping feral cats sounds more like an East Coast thing.”
C
assie and Gladys laughed.
Sarah was wound too tight to find humor in the situation. “A group for my nonprofit? Where I can tell people why rescuing the feral cats is a good idea?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “We have to make it interesting. There will be cute cat pictures, success stories when you rehome the adoptable ones. We can even coordinate volunteer activities on it. And our group will be full of locals. Don’t worry, boss. I got this.”
“I do get low blood sugar when I don’t eat on time,” Harry grumbled.
Sarah ignored him and circled behind the reception counter to pull Melanie into a tight hug. “Thank you. And thank you,” she said to Cassie. Some of her euphoria of last night was returning. She had great friends and a great community. Whatever Kimberlee threw at her, she’d field.
“Sarah…”
“Yes, Harry, we can go now.”
She hummed the entire way to the Wagon Wheel. Harry chattered about baseball, thankfully not expecting any input from her. He only stopped when the hostess led them to a table.
He tucked a red-and-white checked napkin into the collar of his shirt. “Well, this is nice. Lunch with my girl.”
Sarah sank back in her chair. Harry had stayed well past the three-day guest rule, but it was moments like this that made it worthwhile. He could be sweet. She only wished Brad would get to know him, too.
“And in honor of your new business venture, lunch is on me.” He beamed at her.
Shockingly sweet. “That’s not necessary,” she said.
He raised a hand. “I insist. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
He opened his mouth just as the waiter came by. They ordered, and Harry waited for the man to leave before turning back to her. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
“You calling me Harry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to let you know that if you want to call me Dad, I’m okay with that.”
Her stomach tilted and slowly slid to the floor. She stared at the tablecloth. The waiter returned with their salads, but she pushed hers away, appetite gone. “That’s, uh, really nice of you, but I don’t know…”
“Just think about it. See if it feels right.” He speared a large piece of lettuce, and shoved it in his mouth. Ranch dressing smeared his chin. “But I want you to know I’m proud of you, kiddo. You’ve built a real nice life here.”
She swallowed. His approval should have made her ecstatic. She was finally having the relationship with her bio dad that she wanted. But his words left her feeling hollow inside, and she wasn’t sure why.
She cleared her throat. “Why…why did you leave? Mom died so young, before I even thought about asking her. Did you not want kids?”
He fiddled with his fork. “I don’t know what to tell you. Your mom and I weren’t getting along. I knew once we got divorced she wouldn’t want me hanging around. It just seemed easier moving away.”
She clenched the table-top. Easier for whom? His disappearing act sure hadn’t been easier for her mom, working as a secretary trying to feed her kids and keep a roof over their heads. It hadn’t been easier for her and Brad, wondering what they’d done wrong so their dad didn’t want to see them anymore. Had it been easier for Harry, turning his back and pretending he didn’t have a family?
“Ah, here we are.” Shoving his empty plate to the middle of the table, he lifted his hands to give the waiter room to deposit his steak. The man placed her chicken sandwich in front of her and cleared their salad plates. “Nothing like a little red meat to set you up.” He stabbed the filet with his fork and sawed off a piece.
She let him change the subject. Why push it? He was back in her life now. She should be happy about that instead of wallowing in the past.
Besides, trying to understand why Harry left her and Brad might not be her best move.
She might learn something she didn’t want to know.
Chapter Seventeen
“Dad, calm down. No one’s going to hurt you.” James took a step forward, his hands raised, palms out. “Taina is here to help. She’s been working for us for a couple months now.”
A dull ache thrummed behind his breastbone. The fear on his dad’s face gutted him.
His father blinked, and looked around as though he’d just landed in that spot. “Jimmy?”
An ice pick dug into James’s heart. Christ, his dad hadn’t called him that since he was a kid. James cleared his throat. “Yeah, Dad. Everything’s fine.” Blowing out a breath, he turned to the nurse. “Thanks for your help today, but I’ll take it from here.”
His dad bent over and placed a shaking hand on Ginger’s head. The dog leaned against his leg.
He walked Taina out. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” Picking a sweater off the coat tree, she shrugged into it. “That’s what I’m here for. I’m only sorry I couldn’t calm him down and had to call you.”
“I want you to call me when this happens.” Besides, James’s trip to a care facility up in Fort Bragg had been a waste of time. The call had pulled him out of a meeting with the director of the facility, and for that the director should be grateful. The home had been a depressing hellhole of a facility, and James wouldn’t even board Ginger there, much less his dad. It had been in his price range, however. If that was the quality his price range got, James and his dad were in trouble.
“Before he became really agitated, he called me by another woman’s name. Maribel. I think once he realized I wasn’t her, he got confused and then panicked.” She turned a bright smile up at him. “He has a damn good arm for a man his age.”
James stared at the pillows and shattered clock littering the carpet of the living room. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Nope. I was good at dodge ball.”
James gave her half a smile. He liked that the aide had a sense of humor about this. His own was nowhere to be found.
He opened the door for her. “Have a good afternoon off.”
“See you tomorrow.”
He sagged back against the door. His dad darted a glance at him, lowered his head, and shambled toward the kitchen. James followed. There were a lot of plates and glasses his dad could destroy.
“You hungry?” he asked “We could—”
“I ate.” His dad yanked open a cabinet door. “Just getting some water.”
Leaning against the doorframe, James folded his arms across his chest. “All right, then how about we—”
His father smacked the glass tumbler down on the counter. “I don’t need no damn babysitter. Go run your errands. I’ll be fine.”
Ah. So they were getting to the frustrated and angry portion of the afternoon. It was a cycle that was becoming all too familiar. His dad got confused, got scared, then got pissed off.
James probably wasn’t reacting the best in these situations, either.
But cycles could be broken. “I’m home now. I don’t want to leave. Let’s do something fun this afternoon.”
His dad filled up the glass from the tap in silence. He took a sip and peered at him over the rim. “Like what?” he finally asked.
“I don’t know. We could see a movie, take a drive to the beach, or even go down to San Francisco, get some dinner there.” Shit, he was having dinner with Sarah, and after last night in the treehouse, he really didn’t want to cancel it. He was eager to see her again.
He sighed. She’d understand the change in plans.
His dad studied the water level in his glass. “Dog park.”
“What?”
“I want to go to the dog park. Since you took my keys, me and Ginger haven’t been.”
The mutt wagged her tail, whether from hearing her name or if she knew the words ‘dog park,’ James didn’t know. He shrugged. Watching a bunch of dogs run around and sniff each other’s butts wasn’t his idea of a fun afternoon, but if that’s what his dad wanted, that’
s what he’d get.
“Sure. Let me get changed.” In five minutes, they were ready to go. The collie leaped into the back seat of his car, and circled three times before laying down. His father maneuvered his way more slowly into the passenger seat.
James started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Where is this park?”
His dad gave him directions to a grassy area five minutes north of town. The sounds of barking dogs reached James through his open window when they got close. “Here we are.”
Ginger was going nuts in the back seat, running from window to window and whimpering. Something hot and wet swiped the back of his neck.
James rubbed away the moisture with the sleeve of his long T-shirt. “Tell your dog to chill out.”
“She’s just thanking you,” his dad said defensively. “She’s happy to be here.”
Turning in his seat, James glared at the mutt. “And if you behave, I’ll bring you back.” He pointed a finger at her. “No licking.”
He swore the dog winked.
Not bothering with the leash, his father opened the back door and followed his dog to the gate that led into the pen for large dogs. James followed them in. Ginger immediately raced up to two pit bulls wrestling in the center.
James took a step toward them. “That dog is going to get herself killed.”
“Nah.” Sinking down onto a bench, his dad stretched out his legs. “Those pitties are sweethearts. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
One of them turned and snarled at Ginger. The collie growled back, circling the two dogs.
James eased onto the bench beside his father, his body tense. “If you say so.” If he got mauled by a pit bull trying to save his dad’s damn dog, he wouldn’t be happy.
Saving an animal might impress Sarah, however, and impressing that woman had become much more important to him. Probably too important. She was the one thing he was going to miss when he moved back home. Maybe they could—
Ginger raced over, a posse of dogs hot on her heels. She bumped his dad’s hand with her snout. Reaching into his right coat pocket, his dad pulled out a plastic baggie full of treats and doled them out judiciously. A golden retriever laid his head on James’s knee, looked up at him with big brown eyes.
Shelter Me Page 13
