by Annie Rains
“I do. I can’t enforce a tight budget without some semblance of compassion.” Kevin’s no-nonsense tone reinforced that the point was non-negotiable. His boss hesitated, hand on the doorknob. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Nothing.” There was no way Everett was going to broach the subject of end-of-the-year layoffs after receiving a lecture like that.
Chapter Two
The bell over the front door to Sunshine Pets echoed through the store.
Remington turned his big, furry head to see who’d entered but remained seated next to Rosalie, who was lying on her side trying to connect the water supply to a pet fountain. He thumped his tail though, indicating he knew her visitor.
“Rosalie?” Her younger sister, Kimmy, came to lean over the counter.
Rosalie realized she’d been hoping it was Everett who’d entered the store. Sometimes it was the simplest of gestures that touched her. That cup of hot chocolate…Since she’d stopped walking Remy over an hour ago, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Everett. Had she misjudged him?
“This place looks the same as when I left.” Kimmy had watched the store while Rosalie was out playing elf with Remy. She ran the deli and lunch counter at Emory’s Grocery store during the week and had been helping Rosalie on the weekends. Kimmy tugged off her green mittens and unwound her matching muffler. “Where is everyone?”
“Everyone as in customers?” Rosalie gave the pipe connector one last, good twist. After adding more ornaments to the store’s Christmas tree, she’d tried filling the pet fountain, and water had gone everywhere. No way was she making that mistake again.
“Yes. The sidewalk over by the town square is busy with shoppers.” Kimmy shrugged out of her jacket and laid it next to her scarf and mittens on the sales counter. “Stores on Center Street have good traffic. Is it too late to move your business onto Main Street? There’s a space open by the thrift store.”
It wasn’t too late to move. It just wasn’t an option. She was emotionally attached to this location. It was on this street that she’d decided she was going to marry Marty. Granted, they’d both been in high school at the time. And granted, she’d never imagined that years later she’d be widowed, her life forever changed by a bullet aimed at Marty and his badge.
“Earth to Rosalie.” Kimmy rapped the counter with her knuckles, bringing Rosalie back to the present.
“I made a few sales.” Most people seemed to be shopping for their two-legged family and friends instead. “And I’ve got a great idea to bring in more customers before the tree-lighting ceremony.”
Rosalie turned on the spigot, her hand hovering over the handle. Thankfully, the pet fountain filled with a gentle gurgle of water this time, not a leak in sight.
With a soft grumble, Remy stood and lapped water spilling into the bowl.
“Do you know what’s missing in this pet store?” Kimmy glanced around with a twinkle in her eye, fiddling with her long brown hair.
“There’s nothing missing.” Rosalie caught sight of her reflection in the decorative mirror on a nearby wall. She and Kimmy used to stare in the bathroom mirror and marvel about how much they looked alike. They both had the same brown eyes, the same friendly smiles, and the same long brown hair. But since Marty’s death, Rosalie’s reflection had changed. Her eyes were flat, and she’d cut her hair. When she looked in the mirror—heck, when she looked out on life—there was something missing, inside and out. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
“Nothing is missing,” Rosalie reiterated, glancing out to the historic fountain on a brick island in the middle of the road before stowing her husband’s tools in his beat-up red metal toolbox. The store was perfect. It was something inside of her that was incomplete. “I’ve got a great variety of merchandise.” Collars and leashes. Pet beds and pet food. Key chains, T-shirts, and sweatshirts for humans. Fuzzy pet sweaters and snow booties, like the ones Remy had worn on his walk.
“I agree. You’ve stocked everything here a pet owner would want.” Kimmy straightened Remy’s sweater. “Except pets. What about people who don’t have a fur baby? Or want another one? Isn’t that why you built those enclosures in the front windows?”
It was. But that was Rosalie’s expansion plan. She wanted to establish the pet-supply business first. “I don’t want to bring in puppies, kitties, or baby bunnies and not have customers here ready to take them home.” Because if they didn’t find homes by Christmas, Rosalie would adopt them all. Not wise when she, Remington, and Kimmy were sharing the small apartment above their parents’ garage.
“I think you should help rescue animals find homes.” Kimmy waved toward the door. “And look. It’s Eileen Taylor.” Kimmy glanced back at Rosalie. “And before you say anything, yes, I asked her to meet me here. She works at that animal rescue on the outskirts of town. You want a business with heart? You can form a partnership of some kind and bring in animals ready for adoption.”
On cue, Eileen entered the store lugging two pet carriers. “Merry Christmas, Rosalie.”
Arr-aroo. Remington trundled toward their latest visitors, his big, bushy tail wagging.
“Merry Christmas, Eileen.” Rosalie grabbed Kimmy’s arm and whispered, “I hope you have it in your heart to take on whatever she’s bringing in here.” In case they failed to find a home for them due to a lack of customers.
“Trust me.” Kimmy pried herself free.
“I brought some sweethearts in the hopes you can find them forever homes.” Quiet and unassuming, Eileen was a sweetheart herself. She was several years younger than Rosalie and had been rescuing animals since she was a kid. “A pair of lop-eared bunnies the color of cinnamon toast. And a trio of kittens, including a three-legged darling.”
“Bunnies and kittens.” Kimmy grinned at Rosalie. “No one can resist bunnies and kittens. Just wait until we post pictures on social media.”
“Okay.” Rosalie relented because the animals were adorable. “If you’re willing to trust them to my care, Eileen, we can put them in the window boxes and see if we can’t find them forever homes.”
While Eileen and Kimmy prepped the window space under the watchful eyes of Remy, Rosalie unpacked her latest delivery—holiday pet sweaters.
The front door opened, and Everett walked in.
All three women stopped what they were doing to stare. He stared back, adjusting his glasses and studying them as if they were an exhibit in the zoo. Remington meandered up to greet him, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
Rosalie found her voice. “Can I help you?” Because he hadn’t come bearing a gift of hot chocolate.
“Yes.” Everett didn’t sound happy. He unzipped his thick red jacket, revealing a small Yorkie mix with a happy dog smile and long, thin hair. “I need to equip my dog.”
“You have a dog?” Kimmy blurted, cradling the three-legged gray tabby to her chest.
Rosalie couldn’t fault her sister’s outburst. She hadn’t taken Everett as an animal person at all. Up until this afternoon’s hot chocolate treat, he’d been Scrooge.
“Clearly, I have a dog.” Everett drew the little thing from inside his jacket and held it to his chest with one arm. “This is Tinkerbell.”
The dog shivered against what was certainly the cold outer lining of Everett’s jacket. Remy stretched and touched his nose to Tinkerbell’s delicate toes.
“We’ll start with sweaters.” Rosalie fought to contain her excitement. She could sense the opportunity for a big sale because Tinkerbell had hair, not fur. She’d need a wardrobe to keep warm. Waving Kimmy and Eileen back to pet duty, Rosalie leaped into action. She held up a small red sweater with a Christmas tree knit on the back. “I just received some thick holiday pullovers. But I also have plain pink fleece.”
Everett winced at the word pink. He joined Rosalie at the box of sweaters and touched the red one. “I’ll take this and a black fleece, if you have it.”
While Rosalie hurried to check her display f
or a fleece jacket in Tinkerbell’s size, Everett moved to the rack of hanging leashes, followed by Remy.
Rosalie could contain her grin no longer. Sunshine was a small town, and Everett was a prominent figure who made the local rounds. If she outfitted Tinkerbell well, it’d be great promotion for the store.
“I don’t have black fleece but I found a red one.” Rosalie placed her find on the sales counter, sweeping Kimmy’s jacket, scarf, and gloves underneath.
“That’ll do.” Leash in hand, Everett moved to the aisle with bowls. He selected a set of copper ones, which weren’t cheap. This was going to be her best sales day yet.
“Dog food and pet beds are mostly on the back wall.” Instead of joining him, Rosalie went to the display of leather-soled dog booties and selected a pair, adding it to the pile on the counter.
Facing the choices in bagged dog food, Everett set Tinkerbell down.
Yap-yap-yap.
Tinkerbell raced toward the pet fountain. She stood on her hind legs and stretched over the edge but she was too short for a drink because the water level was still low. Continuing to bark, she hopped in. She cringed and barked louder as the water splashed her.
Eileen rushed to the little dog’s rescue. The last thing she needed was Everett annoyed because his dog was being made fun of.
Garumph-aroo. Remington moseyed over and put one foot in the water, as if in solidarity with Tinkerbell.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Rosalie grabbed the Saint Bernard’s collar and urged him back while Tinkerbell continued to let them know she wasn’t happy.
Yappy-yap-yap-yap.
“Tinkerbell,” Everett chastised, carrying a bag of premium dog food toward the counter, “get out of there.”
The small dog faced her master, yaps targeted at him.
“She’s stubborn,” Everett said loud enough to be heard over Tinkerbell’s complaints. He paused at a display of pet beds.
“I think she’s just anxious in a new place.” If he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of his wet dog, neither was Rosalie. She plucked a small towel with Christmas wreaths from a nearby rack and then picked up Tinkerbell and dried her off.
As soon as the dog was in Rosalie’s arms, she quieted.
When Everett joined them at the register with the dog food and a fuzzy brown pet bed, Rosalie set Tinkerbell on the floor and then held up a bag of dog treats. “These too?”
Everett nodded. While he paid, Tinkerbell barked and pranced adoringly around his feet.
“Thank you for the hot chocolate earlier.” Rosalie rang up his purchases. “That was very thoughtful.”
Everett opened his mouth but hesitated a moment before answering. “You say that as if you didn’t think I had it in me.” He stared down at his canine chatterbox with a long-suffering sigh.
“I’ve always thought you had kind eyes.” Rosalie wanted the words back as soon as she’d uttered them.
“Kind eyes? My self-image is shattered,” Everett said. But there was a look in his eyes or perhaps the beginning of a smile on his face that belied that statement. He picked up his dog and scratched behind her brown, silky ears.
Over at the window, Kimmy and Eileen were grinning.
Remy sat near Everett, glancing from Tinkerbell to the man with an occasional contented rumble deep in his chest. It was an approving sound.
If Rosalie had been able to growl in her throat, she’d have been doing it too. “You know, with a little work, Tinkerbell would get over some of her anxiety.”
“Tink is untrainable.” There was mutiny in Everett’s tone, as if he was daring her to contradict him.
“No dog is untrainable…if their owners can be taught.” Right back at you, Scrooge.
Kimmy made a strangled noise and tried to hide behind a kitten snuggle.
“Owner training?” Everett raised a brow. “Your dig is duly noted.” He zipped Tinkerbell into his jacket as he headed for the door. “Can you deliver my stuff to my apartment after five thirty?”
“Yes.” Everett didn’t tell her his address, and she didn’t ask. This was Sunshine. She knew where he lived. His apartment was in a small complex. His door visible from the street. But…he’d left all his purchases on the counter. “Don’t you want to bundle Tinkerbell up and put on her leash?”
“You’d be surprised what I want,” Everett grumbled as deeply as Remy but he stared at Rosalie when he said it, pausing with the door open.
A gust of wind rushed in.
But Rosalie’s goose bumps had nothing to do with the cold.
“You need to grow up, Tink.” Everett strung lights in his apartment window while Tinkerbell ripped apart the cardboard wrapper they’d come in. “You might get a day or two at the office but then it’s home alone for you.”
Tinkerbell tore a long cardboard strip free and then abandoned it to pounce on the empty light-timer box. Everett knew as soon as she lost interest in the cardboard, the barking would begin again.
The barking…
Tink had yapped up a storm the day Lydia had been arrested. The terrier had barked her upset at the world until her voice was a raspy squeak. And Everett had sat in a kitchen chair holding her as they’d led Lydia away, as the rug of his life had been yanked from beneath him.
“You can be on your own,” Everett told Tink. He plugged the colorful Christmas lights into the timer. They came on, racing around his window frame like a video game in an arcade. “You can be quiet and a good dog.” Just as Rosalie thought Tink could.
Rosalie. The petite beauty was a dreamer. She probably still believed in pots of gold at the ends of rainbows. He should have confessed that he hadn’t been the one to buy her a hot chocolate. What had the Widows Club been thinking to treat her in his name? He’d heard rumors of their matchmaking but one look inside her store with its pampered-pooch merchandise and Everett knew he and Rosalie were like orange juice and toothpaste.
Tink stood, ears forward, cardboard dangling out of half her mouth.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Yap-yap-yap!
Tinkerbell bounded toward the door, destroyed boxes forgotten on the carpet.
Yap-yap-yap!
The little dog stood on her hind legs and pressed her front paws on the door, only to drop back down to all fours, circle, and continue to bark.
The doorbell rang.
Everett scooped Tink into his arms. Immediately, the barking stopped. He opened the door.
“Nice wreath.” Rosalie swung the bag of dog food inside and followed it in, closing the door behind her and depositing a bag of goods next to it. “You left the price tag on it though.” She glanced around, eyes widening.
The apartment was clean but dated—from the kitchen cabinetry and countertops to the used furniture he’d bought locally when he’d moved here.
“You were expecting a black leather sofa and glass coffee table?” He raised his brows in challenge.
“You aren’t a stereotypical bachelor so why would I expect you to furnish your place like one?” She plucked Tinkerbell from his arms and knelt with her next to his dog supplies. “Honestly? I expected antiques covered in white sheets.” She tugged the Christmas sweater over Tinkerbell’s head.
“You expected Scrooge’s mansion.” Not a question. This Scrooge thing was going to haunt him until he left Sunshine.
Rosalie guiltily raised big brown eyes to his face.
“I know what people call me.” He didn’t much care what the populace of Sunshine thought of him. But Rosalie? For some reason, he cared about her opinion. “So you think of me as Scrooge too.” Also not a question.
Rosalie tugged Tinkerbell’s sweater into place and didn’t answer.
He stared down at Rosalie’s short, dark hair. It curled around her ears. And her long, dark lashes curled across her cheeks. And her optimistic determination tried to curl around his heart.
Don’t go there. She thinks I’m Scrooge.
“I think my feelings are hurt.” He hadn’t meant
to say that. He hadn’t meant to say anything. He adjusted his glasses but he couldn’t adjust his response toward her.
Rosalie stood, cradling a merry-looking Tink and flashing a half grin. “You have feelings?”
“If we’re doing inventory of what I possess, you can start with a dog.” Everett tried to smile, as if this was one big joke. But there’d been so little to smile about in the past eighteen months that he was sure his expression was on the fritz.
“A dog is a fine place to start after what happened to…” Her half grin flatlined. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your past. I don’t like it when people remind me of mine.”
More than his smile was broken. There was his pride too. But the remnants of his pride also made him tell her, “You can say it.” A part of him didn’t want her to. A part of him wanted to believe that Rosalie hadn’t searched out his history online. “I’m not running from what happened.”
That wasn’t exactly true. He wasn’t running but he was regrouping.
And it was working. His shock over Lydia’s crimes no longer haunted his dreams. He didn’t wake up feeling hollow every morning. He had a reason to put one foot in front of the other.
Cuddling Tink close, Rosalie searched Everett’s face as if looking for something she’d lost.
Being a man who’d lost everything, he knew her search would come up empty.
Sighing, she set Tinkerbell on the floor.
Tink began to bark, sounding like a broken record.
Almost without thinking, Everett bent to return her to his arms.
“You should really do something about that,” Rosalie said unnecessarily.
“My ex-wife got Tink a month or so before she was caught.” Everett stroked Tinkerbell’s small head. “I think Lydia was worried things were about to go south. She had a doctor prescribe the need for a therapy dog.” Which was literally a whole different animal than this one. “She carried Tink everywhere.”
