“Now they all have trees.” Charlie sat on the back step of Paradise Paws, holding Cooper in her lap, and exhaled through her nose. “All four of them!”
Rachel pressed her lips together, but it didn’t stop the smile sweeping across her face as she poured a bag of kibble into the outdoor food bucket. “You’ve got to admit, that’s pretty cute. Mr. CEO from the big city buying all these foster teens their own Charlie Brown trees?”
“Don’t even go there,” Charlie warned. She stroked Cooper’s fur. She’d brought him with her to visit Rachel at Paradise Paws Sunday afternoon for two reasons. One, he loved visiting the shelter where he’d spent several months of his life and playing with the other dogs awaiting adoption, and two, she knew she’d need his comfort while she hashed out yesterday’s events.
She continued, “Blake is up to something. You don’t swoop back into town and try to negotiate the closing of the only no-kill animal shelter around and then do something like that for no reason.”
“Maybe he’s trying to make up for it.” Rachel shrugged, pausing to brush her dark hair out of her face. “Maybe he feels bad about this potential deal.”
“If he feels bad, then why pursue it?” Charlie asked. She shifted as the cold from the concrete stair began to seep through her jeans.
“Why does anyone do anything?” Rachel straightened from the bin of dog chow as she pointed at Charlie. “Actually, I’ll tell you why people do things—for love, money or faith.” She squinted. “Is he a believer?”
“He used to be.” Charlie released Cooper as he squirmed to get down. “I don’t know anything about him now.” Except that he was really trying to bond with the kids at Tulip House. And that his interest in Gretchen and Art seemed genuine. And that he looked really good in dark green and hadn’t struggled at all carrying their tree for them the other day and still had the ability to make her stomach dip when she let her guard down.
Okay, so she knew a few things.
“Is he a good kisser?” Rachel winked as she poured the last bowl.
Charlie narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t know that, either.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Her friend smirked.
“Rachel! He’s the enemy.” Charlie’s heart pounded just thinking about it. She’d almost told Rachel about that near kiss they’d shared at the tree farm but was glad now she hadn’t. Especially not after last night’s events. Clearly that near kiss had been a temporary lapse of judgment she’d narrowly escaped. “That’s the last thing I’m wondering about.”
Well, maybe second to last, if she were brutally honest. But it was far down on the list. The top item being, what was Blake really up to? A man didn’t just suddenly move away and change his name without having a big reason to do so.
“I’m just saying, you’ve got a twinkle in your eye, and it’s much too early in December for that to be Santa-related.” Rachel pushed up her sweater sleeves and then joined Charlie on the top step.
Charlie scooted over to make room. “I think Gretchen is playing matchmaker, too, sending us for trees in the first place and then talking him up in front of me.” After her conversation with Art last night and his suggestion of the L word, it seemed clear that Gretchen was pushing them together.
Rachel tilted her head. “I’m not going that far—I mean, the man is clearly an obstacle right now. But wasn’t he really important to you once?”
“Once, yes. But people change.” Blake sure had. But like Art said...so had she. Did Blake think some of the same negative things about her that she thought about him?
For some reason, that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
She squirmed on the stair. She’d have to deal with that fact eventually, but for now...changing the subject was much easier. “Why are you not more worried about all of this?” Charlie gestured toward the open acreage behind the shelter, where at least ten dogs ran and play-fought or basked in the sunshine. Waffles, his long ears hanging practically to his knees, waddled after a ball another dog had abandoned, then plopped down beside it as if playing alone was too much effort. He was probably bored without Tori to play hide-and-seek with.
“I was. But this morning’s sermon hit the spot.” Rachel let out a slow sigh as she surveyed the property—the gentle slope of hills leading down to the pond, where a thin top layer of ice sparkled under the sun, the spattering of oak trees with limbs reaching to the heavens, the old storage shed where they kept yard supplies and donations of dog food. “At some point, I have to do my part and then just trust God.”
“Trust God,” Charlie repeated. The words were true. She should trust Him—and usually did. But with something this important, it was extra hard to relinquish the reins. Though, on second thought, did she even have them in the first place? “Why is that so much easier said than done?”
“It always is.” Rachel whistled, and Waffles trotted over to her for a belly rub. “I also had an idea last night of how to do the said part.”
“Oh?” Charlie watched as Cooper gnawed on a stick a few yards away. Usually being around the dogs released her tension, but right now, it seemed to all be collecting on her shoulders.
“We can’t control whether or not Mr. Raines sells to Blake’s company, right?” Rachel shot her a sideways glance as she scratched the dog under the chin. “But we can raise money to try to move elsewhere if the worst happens.”
Charlie nodded slowly, reaching over to scratch the hound’s ears. “Fund-raising.” Her inner wheels began to turn. She and the teens at Tulip House could easily help run a few events to earn funds for Paradise Paws. It was Christmas—people were generally in a spirit of giving, especially to good causes.
Her hopes began to soar. “You know, that might actually work. What about a hot chocolate stand? We could put it outside the shelter in the front yard, have people come by and donate while seeing the property and the animals up close.”
“That’s a good idea.” Rachel sat back, and Waffles ambled over to the food bowl. Cooper joined him, sniffing the kibble before stealing a bite. “There are a lot of dogs here needing homes, and people will respond better if they’re seeing the need for themselves.”
“Of course, one fund-raiser won’t be enough on its own, but if we can start some momentum, maybe plan a few more over the holidays...” Charlie’s voice trailed off as she imagined the possibilities. They would need serious cash to help the shelter relocate, but it went back to that trust thing again, didn’t it? All they could do was their part.
Cooper came over and pressed against Rachel’s leg, panting, his thick gray eyebrows lifting as if asking if she was going to pet him. She obliged, and when she stopped, he leaned on Charlie next.
“Spoiled,” Rachel laughed. “I knew you two would make a good pair.”
“I honestly can’t remember not having him, and it’s only been a few years.” Charlie rubbed his fluffy gray back. “He’s so sweet and personable, sometimes I wonder if he’s truly a dog.”
“That’s some good marketing copy right there.” Rachel raised her brow knowingly. “Testimonials from past adoptions. We could print flyers with quotes to hand out with the hot chocolate.”
Excitement bubbled. “That’s a great idea! And Christmas is the perfect time of year to surprise a kid with a pet. I’ll work that in, too.” That’d be great if they were able to take care of two proverbial birds with one stone—more adoptions, and funding for future rescues.
“Marketing is the best when you really believe in what you’re selling.” Rachel elbowed Charlie before she pulled herself to her feet. “I wonder if your big-city friend will be able to understand that.”
Charlie stood as well, brushing at the damp back of her jeans. “If this fund-raiser goes well, then it won’t matter what he thinks.”
“Won’t matter what who thinks?” The deep male voice was followed by a sneeze.
Charlie’s heart simultaneously leaped and fell as she turned to face the open screen door.
Blake.
A dozen emotions flickered across Charlie’s expression as she took in the sight of him. One or two he thought he might like—ones that reminded him of how she’d looked at him when he came back from college to take her to her senior prom. And how she’d looked at him right before he dunked her in the community pool every summer...and more recently, how she’d looked at him while reclined back in the snow, flakes dusting her eyelashes as he leaned in for what surely would have been his favorite regret to date.
But the rest of those flickers in her expression made him want to head right back to his car—and watch his back along the way.
“We have a doorbell at the front that rings back here,” Rachel reminded him. He couldn’t tell if that was just handy information for next time or the nice woman’s attempt at being not so nice.
“I didn’t catch that.” He’d started sneezing immediately upon climbing the front stairs, so he’d probably missed it with his watery eyes. He decided not to respond with the obvious fact that they also had a dead bolt, if they didn’t want people walking inside. “I heard voices out here, so I came to find you.”
His gaze landed back on Charlie, but not so fast that he didn’t catch the way Rachel’s dark eyebrows shot up—and the corners of her lips with them.
She tugged her sweater over her jeans and eased past Blake to the screen door he’d just vacated. “I’ll just leave you two to chat.” She disappeared inside before Charlie’s half-formed protest could fully escape her mouth.
She turned to face him, scooping up a dark gray dog and holding him tight against her chest. A barrier, to be sure. She buried her face in the dog’s furry neck. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
“I went to Tulip House first. Gretchen told me.” Plus, Charlie was dedicated. With her current obvious passions, she could only be a handful of places. And after sitting in the back row of the church service that morning, conviction had gnawed until he decided he had to make it right. He had to find her.
He took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
Wariness furrowed her brow, and she reluctantly set the dog on the ground. “I don’t have long. I’ve got work to do.”
So did he, but best not to remind her of that part. Despite a slight delay in having to contact his assistant back in Colorado for the right log-ins, he’d discovered relatively quickly via online records that the current landowner was Mark Raines. He’d debated waiting until Monday to call, but the greater risk was having his own boss call him first, and Blake wouldn’t be able to provide a positive update. He’d taken the risk.
And failed. Apparently, Mr. Raines was tired of solicitors and had hired an impressively intimidating secretary to screen his calls. Blake had barely been able to get a word in edgewise.
He’d have to try again tomorrow. Hopefully the older woman liked Mondays more than he did and would be in a better place for him to convince her he was legit.
But first...
“It won’t take long. There’s just something you need to know.” He grasped her arm and led her farther away from the rescue building, into the dry winter grass. Another dog with incredibly droopy ears bounded up to him, and he sneezed three times in succession. “A little help?” He pulled a tissue from the pocket of his slacks.
Charlie rolled her eyes, then pointed to a large bucket of dog food closer to the porch stairs. “Waffles! Chow time.”
“Waffles?” That was unexpected.
She nodded. “Tori’s favorite. She comes over here and plays hide-and-seek with him—he can find her no matter where she hides. She never wins.”
“That’s...cute.” And foreign to him, having a dog as a friend. He’d always been allergic and never able to get close enough to make a bond. He watched as Waffles changed direction, heading for the food, and Blake winced. He must look like such a jerk—the man who was allergic to dogs attempting to close down the shelter where they lived. But there was so much more to the story if Charlie could just understand. The problem was, she couldn’t.
Because he couldn’t tell it.
But this next part, he had to tell.
“Listen, about last night...” He crossed his arms over his chest, then sniffed, stepping a few feet farther away from the nearby canines. “What exactly did Tori tell you happened with the tree?”
“That Nadia got jealous, and it made her feel bad.” Charlie frowned, following him as he backstepped a few more paces. “You didn’t have to get them all trees, you know.”
He finally stood still and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know. But I wanted to. I created a problem and didn’t want Tori taking the brunt of it.”
“I understand, but those girls also need to know how to work out things like jealousy and envy in a healthy way. It’s a lesson they’ll need for their adult lives.”
“Agreed.” Blake let out a long sigh. “But don’t they also need to know they’re cared about and that sometimes people give gifts because they want to?”
“Was it?” Charlie challenged. “Just because you wanted to?”
“It was all for Tori.” The admission slipped off his lips before he could censor. Confusion clouded Charlie’s face, and he rushed to cover his tracks. “I mean, she’s so much younger than the others, and she’s the new girl. It just made sense to me to get her something she really wanted.”
Charlie seemed to accept that answer with her brisk nod. “Look, I know it’s hard. I wanted to buy them all gifts the first few months I volunteered, too. But they need consistency and discipline and life lessons more than they need material objects. For some of these teenagers, it’s the first time they’ve had any of it.”
“So, ideally—both,” Blake countered. “Lessons and gifts.”
“Ideally, yes.”
“Well, that’s not actually the whole story.”
She hiked an eyebrow, silently coaxing him to continue.
He drew a deep breath, hoping he was making the right decision. If it was the wrong one, it could drive a wedge even further between him and Tori. “Sitting in church this morning, I realized I wasn’t doing anyone any favors by not telling you or Gretchen what happened.” And of the two, it seemed easier to tattle to Charlie.
“Wait a second. You were at church?” Surprise flashed across her face.
He hadn’t been to church in Colorado in a while, but Charlie couldn’t have known that. “Is it that shocking?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t see you.” She waved her hand, flustered, before crossing her arms over her stomach. “I just didn’t expect that.”
Well, he hadn’t expected a lot of things—like nearly kissing her in a snowball fight and realizing that after only forty-eight hours back at home, it felt a lot like he’d never left.
In fact, being in Tulip Mound was what had fed his desire to go back to services. He realized he’d missed it. He’d kept up his prayer life on his own but hadn’t invested in a church community back in Denver. He’d always blamed it on work and said he’d go “next week” until the months blurred into years.
It’d been...nice. Refreshing, even. And effective. The sermon had certainly hit home. But now that meant he had to take action. “During the sermon, I felt convicted.” Blake hesitated a beat. “I thought I was doing the girls a favor by covering this news up, but they got into a fight.”
Charlie closed her eyes, disappointment creasing her forehead. She opened her eyes, her tone flat. “Nadia?”
“And Sabrina.”
“Who started it?”
“Nadia, technically.” He rushed ahead. “I can’t say Sabrina didn’t have it coming, though. She really goaded her.”
“And the other two?” Charlie’s chin lifted and her eyes glazed, transforming her from the role of caring volunteer to probation officer.
“Riley and Tori just watched.” And squealed—loudly. “I broke it off as fast as I could. They begged me not to tell. Something about not wanting to get separated at Christmas.”
The hard look in Charlie’s eyes softened, and he felt himself melting again just remembering the desperation in their voices. No kid should ever have to feel that way in their home. “That’s not going to happen, is it?”
Charlie shook her head. “Not for something that brief, but I’m glad you told me. We’ve got to address it. If Nadia keeps this up—or Sabrina, for that matter—and the caseworkers get wind of it, there’s a chance they could be moved. Gretchen wouldn’t request it for something this minor, but if it turns into a habit...” She shrugged. “Her hands might be tied. Especially if it spills back over into school.”
“So, is it? A habit?”
“Nadia hasn’t reacted that way in a long while. The last time was at the high school—a girl teased her so relentlessly about living at Tulip House. Nadia had enough and finally swung at her. She missed, but the girl landed the first punch in return, so the teachers determined the other girl was the perpetrator and suspended her for two days. Nadia got a day of detention, was all. But it’s in her file.”
“She was standing up for Tori.” Blake ran his hand over his hair. “Sabrina was teasing her pretty hard, then challenged Nadia when she tried to put a stop to it. I don’t blame Nadia for reacting.”
“They have to learn there’s a better way.” Charlie pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “I keep trying to tell her—use words, not fists. Defuse, not ignite. Find an adult.”
“I imagine where they’re from, adults can’t always be trusted.” Or, in his case, found. His stomach knotted again with guilt.
Charlie lowered her hand from her face, her gaze catching his with surprise. “You’re right. That’s a great point, and sometimes I forget it.” She snorted. “Ironically.”
Sometimes he did, too. Charlie fit so well with Gretchen and Art, he forgot they weren’t her real family. That she’d grown up in the system before landing with them. No wonder the teens were so important to her—she was like them, once upon a time.
No wonder Tori clung so close.
And the way they were talking now, discussing the teens and potential discipline and what they needed on a heart level, well—it felt a lot like coparenting. Which was both very appealing and very confusing.
Blake stepped back another foot, even though his nose didn’t itch anymore. “What are you going to do?”
“Tell Gretchen. I’m sure the two girls will get a warning, maybe extra chores. She won’t go too hard on them, but there has to be a consequence.” She squinted at him. “And they’re going to know you told.”
He nodded slowly. “I understand. It’s unavoidable.”
He’d been afraid of that. Hopefully it wouldn’t cause any more distrust between him and Tori—or Nadia. Anyone who stood up for Tori like that was a champion in his book, and he hated the thought of the older teen being upset with him, too. But even if they were, he was doing the right thing.
After all, if he was hoping to officially parent Tori one day, wasn’t this part of it—making hard decisions in the present for future reward?
He must have looked more down than he realized, because Charlie gently placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.” He opened his mouth to say more, then stopped. There was no point in pressing further—or pulling her into the hug he desperately wanted. So he just stood still, enjoying the warmth of her hand radiating through his thin button-down shirt.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’ll tell you something in return. Because it, too, is clearly inevitable.” Charlie bit down on her lower lip, then exhaled sharply as she pulled her hand away. “The man you’re looking to contact is Mark Raines.”
Surprise started a slow burn in his stomach. She was helping him? Of course, the fact remained... “I actually already realized that, but thank you for the heads-up.”
“You found him?”
Blake shrugged. “It’s sort of what I do. It’s not hard to research once you can access public records online.”
She narrowed her eyes, a small smile hinting at the corner of her glossy lips. “Well, do those public records tell you how to get past Mrs. Hoffman?”
Blake ran his hand over his hair, wishing the brief sensation of Charlie’s hand on his arm didn’t linger so vividly. “She’s quite the gatekeeper, isn’t she? She sort of made me feel like I needed to head back to church immediately.” He laughed.
“She’s retired from the army and takes her part-time job for Mr. Raines very seriously.” Charlie hesitated, then peered up at him with a pointed gaze. “She also takes her grandkids very, very seriously. She loves to chat about them if given the chance.”
He started to respond, then realized Charlie was helping him—handing over the key to the gate keeping him from Mark Raines. Which brought up a new question. “But why would you—”
She reached up, effectively cutting him off as she pressed her hand against his chest. The touch burned like a brand—but then again, hadn’t he always been hers?
“Just say thank you.”