Friday afternoon, Heather walked into the shelter’s conference room carrying a pitcher of lemonade. Sliced lemon wedges and sweet mint leaves from Reva’s garden floated on top.
“Oh, Lord,” Abby fretted, wringing her hands. “I hope everything is going okay out there.” Abby’s honey-brown hair straggled down her back in a mass of semi-wild waves, but her white pedal pushers and tucked-in cotton shirt were sedate enough to make up for the unruly hair that seemed to defy her efforts to tame it.
Heather could tell that Abby had done her best to look businesslike today. They all had. Heather had even left Jasper at home this morning, poor dog. She set the pitcher on the ecru linen table runner in the center of the antique mahogany table. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Heather promised, though she could promise no such thing. “All we can do is wait and see.”
Either the shelter would pass the inspection or it wouldn’t. The county building inspector and the mayor were both outside walking the shelter grounds with Quinn right now. Adrian was supposed to be here soon, but he hadn’t yet arrived.
Heather arranged alternating swirls of turtleback cookies and snickerdoodles on the platter, then nestled a sprig of fresh sweet mint from Reva’s garden in the center. Lucky for Abby, one lone turtleback cookie remained, and fitting it in would have ruined the artistic appeal. “Here.” Heather held the cookie out to her boss. “Have a cookie.”
Abby broke the cookie in half instead of taking the whole thing. “Only if you eat half.”
Heather took her half and tapped it to Abby’s in a cookie toast. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”
Abby took a bite and groaned. “So good,” she said with her mouth full. “Makes me want to slap my mama.”
Heather laughed. “Is that different than usual?” She took a bite of her half of the cookie, her teeth cracking the fine layer of hardened icing on the top as her taste buds exploded. She ate the rest of it, so sweet and tasty it flooded her mouth with joy and filled her mind with a false sense of well-being.
Maybe everything would be okay after all.
Abby finished her cookie and rubbed her palms together to brush off the crumbs. “I think we both needed a bit of sugary self-medication today.”
“Yep, I agree.” They had worked hard to get everything ready for the inspection. After all the work they’d done to get ready for this day, Heather didn’t feel one bit bad about indulging. And they still had a planning committee meeting to get through. Hopefully, Quinn would have good news to relate about the inspection.
Reva walked in with an antique blue-glass mason jar of daisies and zinnias from her garden nestled in lacy sprays of fiddlehead ferns and green cockleburs from the nearby swamp. She looked pretty in a tie-dyed peasant dress and red Birkenstock sandals with rhinestone buckles. A fresh daisy was tucked into her silver-gray hair. “Hey, Heather. Hey, Abby.”
She moved the cookie platter over and set the arrangement in the middle of the table. Any gathering in the Deep South—even a business meeting—was worthy of attention to detail. But this one was especially important. Reva put her hands on her hips. “Is Adrian here yet?”
“I haven’t seen him.” Heather felt a blush coming on, so she turned to fold a stack of paper napkins into neat triangles. It was annoying and embarrassing that her fair skin had an opinion of its own about Adrian Crawford.
A widowed mother of three had no business dreaming about a dreamboat business consultant who had no room in his life for romance, kids, or even pets. She knew better than to respond to his shameless flirting. She’d spent too much time with him lately; that was the problem.
She needed to remember that Adrian was part of this team only because his college buddy Quinn had invited him. The second the shelter was open and running smoothly, he would go back to doing whatever he’d been doing before.
Abby looked out the window. “Adrian’s car is here.” She snorted a laugh. “Wearing its pajamas.”
“Don’t make fun,” Reva said. “He just got all those scratches fixed. I don’t blame him for being extra careful.”
Heather stood beside Abby to look out the window at Adrian’s fancy sports car that he’d covered with its tailor-made fabric tarp to protect it from falling leaves, jumping cats, and drifting dirt. “He does love that shiny hunk of metal,” Heather commented, “doesn’t he?” She didn’t blame him though. If she could afford a car like that, she’d take extra-good care of it too.
Abby snorted. “His life will be complete if he ever finds a woman to love as much as he loves that car.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” Adrian’s deep, masculine voice said from the arched entrance of the room. “But don’t worry about me. I’m happy enough as I am.”
Abby choked on a hastily stifled laugh and squeezed Heather’s arm. Heather felt her skin go up in flames. But she had no choice except to turn from the window and face Adrian’s self-satisfied smirk. In fact, he did look extremely happy with himself and life in general. From the aviator sunglasses perched on top of his perfect hair to the treaded soles of his fancy expensive hiking boots, he looked perfectly…well, perfect.
***
Adrian noticed Heather’s flaming cheeks; it was impossible not to. Her fine porcelain skin mirrored her every emotion. He’d seen it all—from the delicate pink tint of attraction to the ferocious blush she had going on now to the mottled dull-red flush of anger. He’d seen it all because those had all been her reactions to him.
And those wide green just-got-caught-gossiping-about-him eyes, also impossible not to notice. But what his eyes really wanted was to devour the rest of her. His gaze stayed stuck on her face, though, because he was disciplined enough to avoid looking farther down than her obstinate little chin.
He didn’t have to look down to know that her voluptuous body curved in all the right places, even though she often seemed to dress to minimize her sex appeal. From her minimal makeup to her blond ponytail to her plain pink tee and modest denim skirt, everything about her screamed don’t look at me.
So he didn’t look—unless of course she couldn’t see him looking. Then he looked plenty. He knew that she had a little crush on him because her skin told on her, every single time.
What she didn’t know was that he had a pretty hefty crush on her too. He was lucky that his tanned skin didn’t tell on him and luckier still that he knew better than to act on his impulses. Because no matter how compelling Heather was all by herself, she came with a bunch of baggage that he was incapable of lifting.
“Hey, Adrian,” Heather said, her voice Marilyn Monroe breathless. That was another thing about her that just about did him in: her voice. It made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. Hell, when he was near her, it often felt like they were the only two people on the planet.
“Hey, Heather,” he replied, doing a pretty good imitation of her tone.
And just like that, the fading pink of her blush turned that mottled red color, setting the tone for their last big meeting about the shelter’s upcoming grand opening and fund-raiser. She didn’t say a word, but her lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed.
“Aw, don’t be that way,” he said. “I was just teasing.” He didn’t even know why he’d done it, unless maybe some part of him was trying to put the brakes on feelings he wasn’t quite ready to handle. Heather’s anger was better for his peace of mind than any other emotion she might feel toward him.
“I’m not being any sort of way,” she announced. Then she brushed past him with her chin in the air.
***
Heather scooted her chair just so to put Reva’s beautiful flower arrangement exactly between herself and Adrian. She’d prefer to look at daisies and zinnias instead of his disturbingly attractive features. She wasn’t mad at him for pointing out the obvious. She couldn’t help sounding breathless around him; he had that effect on her.
She wasn’t mad at all. She was used to his teasing manner that seemed to veer between mocking and flirtatious.
In fact, she ought to be thankful that he sent her that little reminder of some of the less-attractive aspects of his character. After last week’s riding session with Charlie, and the week before when he’d literally helped save Charlie’s life, she had allowed herself to become a little too chummy with the idea of letting Adrian get close to her and her kids.
He could get close to Charlie. That was fine and necessary. But Heather needed to keep herself and her kids out of the equation. She needed to remember that once the shelter opened on Labor Day—which was, yikes, just a little over a week away—Adrian wouldn’t be coming around so much, and eventually, once the shelter was running smoothly, he wouldn’t be coming around at all.
What that would mean for Charlie, Heather hadn’t yet considered, except to promise herself that by then, she would be making enough money to pay someone else to ride Charlie twice a week.
“Okay, y’all, let’s get started.” Abby stood. “We’ve got a lot to cover before Quinn is done showing the inspector around.” She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled, a look of pride and relief on her face. “First of all, I want to thank y’all for your hard work in turning a crumbling old estate into an animal shelter we can be proud of.
“Heather, thanks for all the donations you got from local businesses. The donation of fencing and work crews from the fence company made all the difference. Adrian, thanks for expediting all the paperwork and forms. Reva, thanks for helping Quinn supervise the work crews and make sure everything got done right the first time. Y’all are miraculous.”
“Yay, us,” Reva hooted.
Everybody clapped.
Abby picked up her notebook and started reading from it. “On the agenda today, the biggest octopus we have to wrangle into a jar is the Labor Day picnic and shelter fund-raiser at Bayside Barn. As y’all know, we were hoping to do the shelter’s grand opening at the same time, but whether we can do that hinges on today’s inspection.”
“It’ll be fine,” Reva said. “It’ll be fine.”
“Lord, I hope so.” Abby held up crossed fingers. “At the end of today’s meeting, Quinn is going to give a tour to some of the folks who helped us get the shelter approved by city hall. I’d like y’all to follow along to answer any questions but also to get a fresh look at what’s been done recently and what we still have to do before we can open our doors to the public. And…Adrian’s going to give us an update on the grants we’ve applied for.”
She sat back down. “Adrian, you’re up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Adrian stood and passed a stack of papers to Abby. “We’ve been approved to receive a grant that will reimburse us for the replacement of the leaking pool steps with a beach-style ramp. That will make it easier for the shelter dogs to safely enter and exit the pool. It’s been done already thanks to the donations Heather managed to get from the local merchants…” He nodded at Heather without meeting her eyes. “But once we receive that payment, we can allocate that money for other projects.”
A quiet ripple of whoops, cheers, and claps erupted. Adrian made a mock bow, then straightened and pinned them all with a serious gaze. “Don’t get too excited. What this grant means, aside from the money, is that y’all will have to chronicle the rehabilitative benefits of swimming for a minimum of ten canine amputees, each of whom will be fostered here for twelve months. So that means over the next two years, the shelter will have to actively acquire dogs who have recently undergone amputations, keep them here for a year each, follow a specific pool-exercise protocol, survey their recovery rates, and document everything. Mack has agreed to provide veterinary care and fill in the reports for these dogs free of charge.”
“That’s awesome, Adrian,” Abby said. “Thanks for taking the initiative on getting that funding.”
“Happy to do it,” he said. “We have a few more outstanding grant proposals I haven’t heard back on, but I’ll keep y’all posted.”
“Great, thanks.” Abby gave an appreciative little clap for Adrian, then looked at Heather and Reva in turn. “Everybody grab another cookie. We’ve gotta finalize the details of the grand opening and fund-raiser.”
Adrian turned to leave the room. “Well, I’ll leave you girls to that. Event planning is not my—”
“Sit,” Reva commanded, softening the harsh word by handing him a cookie. “Event planning is not just for girls.”
“But I’m really just here to give business advice, so—”
“Well,” Reva said in her comforting, motherly voice, “we might have to fill in a form or get a permit or something, so I think you should stay. Abby? Heather? What do y’all think?”
Heather would be just as happy if Adrian left now. But Abby put a hand on Adrian’s forearm and coaxed him back down. “Stay, please. Quinn wants you to be here in case anything comes up in the inspection that y’all need to talk about. And I’m sure he’ll want to have a cold beer with you by the pool after that.”
Adrian sighed a long-suffering man-sigh. “Fine.”
When he sat back down, he moved his chair a fraction of an inch, and Heather could now see the side of his face, almost enough to catch the impossibly dark-blue iris of his right eye. She scooted her chair over and focused on the daisies again. “I have kids to pick up after school, just so y’all know. Let’s talk fast.” (An oxymoron to most Southerners—including the ones sitting around this table—but still. Her time constraints were worth mentioning.)
“We’ll hurry,” Reva assured everyone. As promised, the meeting was short—if not sweet—and everyone was happy enough to take on responsibilities they’d rather not have in order to have the thing over and done with.
Reva was nothing if not persistent. If anyone on earth had ever won an argument with Reva, Heather hadn’t heard about it, and she was sure that such an event would’ve made the evening news.
Quinn came around the corner. Dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, he only looked slightly wilted from trekking around the shelter’s grounds with the inspector. He held a folded sheaf of papers in one hand. “Welp, which do y’all want first, the good news or the bad news?”
***
“Good news first,” Abby demanded.
Quinn sat in one of the vacant chairs at the long table. “Good news: We mostly passed the inspection.”
Adrian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He was past ready to go home. “What didn’t we pass?”
“The existing generator is old, it’s not up to code, and even if it was, it doesn’t have enough power to keep all the buildings and outbuildings cool in case of an extended outage. We will have to buy and install a new generator for each of the different zones: the house, the garage, and the pool house—a.k.a. the shelter, the kennels, and the infirmary.”
“Okay,” Adrian said. “So how long will that take?”
Quinn gave his friend a sheepish look. “That sort of depends on you.”
“Me?” Adrian pointed to himself, as if there might be another person Quinn was talking about while staring straight at him. “Why me?”
“The inspector told me about a place in New Orleans where we can get the generators we need at a good price. But Abby can’t go—she has a bunch of wedding-planning appointments—and Reva can’t go because she has something scheduled at Bayside Barn. That leaves Heather—”
“I can’t go,” Heather piped up. “I have kids.”
“So,” Quinn said with a shrug, “that leaves you, Ade. You can take my truck and the flatbed trailer. They’re expecting you to pick up the generators anytime after 10:00 Wednesday morning.”
“Great. Fine.” Not great, not fine, but Adrian reminded himself that this whole gig had a fast-approaching end date. He may as well pitch in as much as they needed until then.
“Yoo-hoo,” a high-pitched female voice yodeled from the front room. “Where is everybody?”
“In here, Edna,” Reva answered with a smile in her voice. “Come on in.”
Edna, a short, rotund, grandmotherly woman with tight gray curls and a commanding presence, came into the room followed by a tall woman dressed in CEO style. “Y’all know Tammy Goodson, the city council’s president?”
Everybody but Adrian nodded, and a couple of the women said, “Hey, Tammy.”
Adrian stood and introduced himself.
“And Mayor Wright?” Edna introduced the slightly stooped, silver-haired man who’d come in last.
Adrian shook hands with the mayor.
“Well,” Reva said, “since we’re all standing, shall we let Quinn take us on the grand tour? I just got a text from Mack that he can’t get away from the vet’s office. Let’s all grab a few cookies and some lemonade or tea and let Quinn show us around.”
Everyone helped themselves to refreshments, then followed Quinn through the main level of the renovated Craftsman-style home.
“Quinn built the laundry room of my dreams,” Heather said to the group when Quinn opened that door. “Two washers, two dryers, a long table for folding, and an entire wall of storage cupboards and shelving.”
“I aim to please,” Quinn said. In the main building’s hallway, he opened doors one by one, then stood back for the visitors to look inside. “These used to be bedrooms, but now we have playrooms where we can do behavior training or where visitors can get to know a shelter animal one-on-one.”
Then they all followed Quinn upstairs. “The second floor will house the shelter cats and small animals,” he explained. “The first room on your right has been outfitted with floor-to-ceiling stainless-steel enclosures with wire doors and pullout trays for easy cleaning. These enclosures will be for any of the smaller incoming residents, including cats, kittens, ferrets, rabbits, whatever.”
Everybody on the planning committee took turns peeking into the room, while Edna and Tammy and Mayor Wright walked in for a closer look.
“The first room on your left has adjustable shelving to accommodate any cages and hutches that might be surrendered along with the animals they belong to.”
Quinn opened the new, glass-windowed door to the communal cat colony residence. “This used to be the master suite. The master bathroom has been renovated to provide a mop sink, extra storage, and a laundry chute to the downstairs laundry room.”
Quinn stood with his hands in his pockets until everyone filed into the room. Built-in cat towers went from floor to ceiling in all four corners, and built-in shelves and ramps and steps and hiding spaces filled each wall. Quinn stopped next to a set of wider-than-usual shelves on the exterior wall, where several cutouts had been framed in and installed with cat doors that led out to the two-story outdoor play area.
Heather sidled up to Adrian. Quinn started talking about the Formica laminate he’d used for the climbing installations, chosen for their ability to endure spray-downs with antibacterial cleansers. She bumped Adrian on the arm with her elbow. “I’m sorry about before,” she whispered.
What was she talking about? He tried to find the answer in those green eyes of hers, but all he ended up doing was noticing the gold starburst around the iris. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she whispered. “Talking about your car, I mean.”
Quinn had moved on to explain how he had cut into the exterior wall to install several cat doors at different levels so that cats could access the outdoor play area attached to the exterior of the renovated house. “Having multiple doors accessed at multiple levels was Reva’s idea,” Quinn was saying. “Otherwise, one or two cats could decide to guard the door and keep the others from going outside or coming back in.”
Adrian hadn’t thought twice about her little comment. He’d known at the time that she was working just as hard to shut him out as he was working to stop thinking about her. And that little joyride that Reva had sent them on hadn’t helped. “Forgiven,” he whispered back.
Of course, she blushed. Her rosy cheeks got a shade rosier, which made the tightrope he was treading all the more dangerous. The thing was, no matter how much he wanted to lure her into a light flirtation that could lead to something more, he knew that nothing lasting would come from it, and Heather wasn’t the kind of woman to accept anything less. She was all wrong for him, and he was even more wrong for her.
“Ade, Heather, y’all coming?” Quinn said from the doorway. Apparently, everyone had begun trooping downstairs to view the cats’ outdoor playground.
“Sure,” he said, keeping his tone as even and smooth as always.
“Lord,” she muttered, blushing all over again.
He refrained from putting his hand at her waist as they both turned to head downstairs.
***
On Wednesday morning, Heather drove straight to the shelter after cleaning Charlie’s stall and dropping the kids off at school, but as she turned into the gravel lot, Adrian’s car was already in its usual space in the far corner. Covered with its fitted tarp, the car’s hood sported a new ornament: a black-and-white cat. At first, she thought it was Reva’s cat, Glenn, but as she got closer, she noticed the feral tomcat’s big-jawed jughead.
Jasper whined from the back seat, pressing his nose against the glass.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she warned. “You’re not gonna mess things up this time.”
She took her foot off the gas and let the car coast through the lot, then eased to a stop as far from Adrian’s car as she could manage.
Jasper whined again, making a gearing-up-to-bark sound in the back of his throat. “No speak,” she commanded.
He knew what she meant. He sat, sending her a worried glance before gazing out the window again.
She turned off the car and sent a group text to the shelter team. The tomcat is sitting on Adrian’s car. I am stuck in my car with Jasper. Please advise.
Reva texted back. On our way. Sit tight.
A minute or two later, Adrian and Reva walked casually toward Adrian’s car from the shelter’s main building. Abby followed some distance behind with a small cat carrier. Quinn walked toward Heather’s car from the direction of the kennels, while his wolf dog shadowed him from a safe distance. The whole event was beautifully choreographed, and all Heather had to do was watch.
Quinn tapped on the back-seat window with one of Georgia’s tennis balls, distracting Jasper to keep him from barking.
Adrian and Reva eased up to the cat, and Adrian gathered the sleepy-looking feline into his arms. Abby held the crate and opened the wire door. With no apparent hesitation, the cat allowed Adrian to shift him into the crate, and Reva gently closed the door. It all happened in less than five minutes.
Quinn stood by Heather’s car, waiting until Reva had carried the crate up the front porch and into the shelter before giving Heather the go-ahead to open her door. Then he let Jasper out of the back seat. The dog, who apparently had the attention span of a goldfish, danced around Quinn’s legs, ready for him to throw the ball.
“Wow, that was amazing.” Heather got out of her car and clipped the keys to her purse strap. “I can’t believe they managed to catch that cat so quickly.”
“Reva and Adrian have been working on him,” Quinn replied. “Thanks for letting us know he was out here.” Quinn tossed the ball, and Jasper eagerly scuttled across the parking lot after it. Wolf, apparently uninterested in the ball and unconcerned about Jasper, sat near the play yard gate, watching.
Jasper trotted back with the ball, eager for another toss. He dropped the ball at Quinn’s feet and wagged his whole self, quietly idling side to side like an off-kilter ceiling fan.
“Do you think it’s okay to let Jasper come into the shelter? Or should I put him up in a kennel?”
“He can come in.” Quinn hurled the ball again. “Reva will take the cat straight to the vet to get neutered and vaccinated. I’m sure she’s got him in her car by now.”
“That’s good.” They walked toward the shelter together. “Do you know what’s on tap for today?”
Quinn took the ball from Jasper and threw it again. “You’d have to ask Abby. I know Adrian is getting ready to go to NOLA to pick up those generators. Reva has a group of folks from the Magnolia Bay retirement community coming to Bayside Barn in”—he glanced at his watch—“under an hour. So maybe Abby’s the one taking the cat to the vet.” He shrugged. “You know how it is. We go with the flow, and around here, the flow keeps changing course.”
At the shelter’s front porch steps, Quinn held the ball up and made eye contact with Jasper. “Last one, buddy. Are you ready?”
Jasper barked with excitement, and Quinn launched the ball. The dog took off, and Quinn wiped his hands on his jeans. “He’s all yours now. I’m heading back to get some more stuff done before something else happens.”
“Okay.” Heather and Jasper went into the shelter, where Jasper flopped down on the wood floor in the reception area. Heather went to her desk. Abby had left a note on the computer keyboard. Normally, there would be a long list of things for Heather to do to prepare for the shelter’s opening, stuff like Please wash/dry/fold the donated towels or Talk to Quinn about storage options.
Today, the note only contained one impossible marching order: We need you to go to NOLA with Adrian today. Please see me or Reva as soon as you get in.
The dog beds in the office were all empty, and Georgia wasn’t patrolling the area and inspecting everyone’s work, so Reva must be next door at Bayside Barn. Abby must be halfway to the vet’s office by now.
“Come on, Jasper,” she called. Always on it, Jasper was at her side in half a heartbeat. Together they went through the shelter’s back door into the kennels, then through the kennel’s door to the pool area. Jasper bounded toward the pool’s sparkling water, eager to try out the beach-style entry.
“No,” Heather said sharply. “No swimming today.” If she was going to go to New Orleans, she’d have to take Jasper back home first. And the trip would have to be a quick turnaround because she had to get her kids after school. It could be done, but honestly, it all seemed like a bit of a stretch, and Heather couldn’t imagine why she’d been nominated.
When Heather and Jasper walked through the swing gate to Bayside Barn, Jasper bolted toward Georgia, who was standing next to Reva, Edna, and two other volunteers Heather didn’t know outside the big red barn. Ready to welcome the crowd of retirees who would soon be arriving for a tour, the women were all dressed in jeans, barn boots, and assorted colors of Bayside Barn T-shirts. Jasper dropped Georgia’s ball. Georgia took it and ran, instigating a happy game of chase-whoever-has-the-ball.
Reva waved and came toward Heather. “Hey. Did you see Abby’s note?”
“Yes, but you know I have to be back by 3:00 this afternoon, right?”
“Sure, sure. No problem. But you do need to go with Adrian. Abby has back-to-back appointments, Quinn’s up against his deadlines, and I’m expecting a tour group to arrive any minute. I’ve already spoken with Adrian, and he says that getting back in time shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Well yeah, but what if it is?” Heather’s friend Sara was her only fallback plan, and Sara had taken her son, Max, to a specialist in New Orleans to find out what was causing his seizures. They were spending several days there while Max underwent tests. “Sara’s my only option if I can’t make it back in time, and she’s out of town.”
“If anything happens to hold y’all up, I’ll get your kids and bring them here. The tour group will be leaving by two. That gives me more than enough time.”
“But you’re not on the list.”
Reva’s arched brows came together. “Huh?”
“You know, the list of people who are approved to take my kids from school. The middle school doesn’t monitor that, but the elementary school does.”
“Oh, of course.” Reva smacked her forehead with her palm. “Why didn’t I think about that? Why don’t you get Adrian to swing past the school on your way out of town and put me on the list? Even if you don’t need it today, I’m happy to be on call in case you can’t get there for some reason or another.”
“Thanks.” It would be great to have more than one person she could trust to help out if she needed it. “I’d appreciate that.”
The deep, rumbling whine of a large vehicle turning onto the street made Reva look up. “What info do you need from me to get me officially on the list?”
“Copy of your driver’s license, front and back.”
“Well, shit. All that’s in the house.” Reva winced at the squeal of the tour bus putting on brakes in preparation for turning down the drive. “Let’s hurry.”
Reva called Georgia, Heather called Jasper, and the four of them ran across the gravel drive toward the blue farmhouse. Once inside, Reva quickly made the necessary copies, while Georgia and Jasper flopped down on the polished-wood floor with their tongues hanging out.
“You never said why I need to go with Adrian to New Orleans today.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You remember that Abby had reached out to the nearest shelters about taking any canine amputees they might have when we won that grant?”
Heather took the printer copies Reva gave her. “Yes, I remember.”
“Well, we got a call this morning from a rescue organization in New Orleans that recently picked up a dog who’d been hit by a car. His right back leg was completely mangled and had to be amputated. He’s ready to be released from the vet, and they wanted to know if we were equipped to take on any dogs yet. Abby said yes. They’re expecting us to pick him up today.”
Heather thought for a second about offering to take her own car instead of riding with Adrian in the truck but then thought better of it. She didn’t want to be by herself with a dog she didn’t know in case something went wrong. Better to have backup. “Okay, so I’m guessing I need paperwork?”
“Adrian has all that. He’s already waiting for you, parked by the road with the truck and trailer. Jasper can stay here with Georgia. I’ll make Georgia stay inside and keep him company instead of helping out with the tour this time.”
“Okay, I guess.” Heather felt too rushed to think straight, but Reva was hurrying them both out the door. “Is there anything else I need to know before—”
“Nope, nope,” Reva interrupted. “Time to fly! Folks are waiting for me to start the tour.”
She ran toward the barn. “Thanks, Heather,” she yelled, giving a backward wave. “Have fun in New Orleans.”