Читать книгу The Charm Offensive - Cari Lynn Webb - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“THE WIRE TRANSFER was completed yesterday at the request of George Callahan.” The financial advisor for Pacific Bank and Trust in San Francisco watched Sophie Callahan over a bland manila file folder. “The account is empty.”

Empty. Sophie shifted sideways in the leather chair and crossed her legs as if that might minimize the impact of the woman’s firm yet unapologetic voice. An ache wrapped around Sophie’s throat and squeezed. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. The funds have been withdrawn.” She slid a floral tissue box closer to Sophie as if on cue. As if the efficient financial advisor had played out this scenario many times before and the tissues were standard procedure.

Sophie straightened her shoulders, refusing to slide back into the supple leather chair. The leather was pliant, not because it was expensive but rather from all the customers who’d collapsed after Beth Perkins, senior financial advisor, personally delivered their nightmares. “George Callahan is my father.”

“According to our paperwork, he’s joint owner of the savings account.” Beth opened the manila folder and spun the documents to face Sophie.

Sophie recognized the flourish of her grandmother’s signature in black ink on the bottom of the top page. Sophie’s grandmother had added Sophie to her savings account seven years ago, the very same day her grandmother had told Sophie about her terminal cancer. Her grandmother had never mentioned that her son, George Callahan, was also listed on the savings account. And Sophie had been too busy, first caring for her grandmother those final months, then building her pet-store business and watching her three-year-old niece, to worry about who had access to the bank account.

She struggled now to make herself heard. “All of the money has been moved, then?”

And by all of the money, Sophie referred to the funds her grandmother’s trust had released into the savings account at the first of the year with specific instructions to use for the purchase of the property where Sophie and her niece, Ella, lived. Sophie also referred to the additional money from the Pampered Pooch that she’d deposited at the end of every week so that one day, one day exactly twenty-nine days from now, Sophie would hold the title to the building in her own hands. And Ella would never again have to worry about losing the only home she’d ever known.

Sophie couldn’t let Ella down. She couldn’t fail her only niece. She couldn’t become another rotted branch on the careless Callahan family tree.

“Yes, all of the funds have been transferred from the account.” Beth put on a pair of trendy violet-framed glasses.

Ella would’ve loved the smooth lightweight glasses. But the oval shape only sharpened the woman’s gaze, as if that alone would force Sophie to focus.

Sophie was focused. On her empty bank account.

“There’s a balance due for the wire-transfer fee.” Beth closed the folder and pulled out her keyboard. “Usually that’s deducted from the funds, but for some reason that didn’t happen yesterday. Do you intend to clear that now?”

Sophie jerked back against the chair. “A fee?”

Her father had drained their joint savings account and left Sophie to pay the fee. Her back seemed to be pinned against the leather chair like the large Post-it note tacked to Beth’s bulletin board with “I love you mommy” written in blue marker and stamped with a greasy fingerprint. Sophie had never written notes like that to her parents. Notes like that refused to stick to vodka and gin bottles. As for fingerprints—well, generations of Callahan fingerprints were well documented at police stations across the nation.

Perhaps Sophie should’ve written notes like that to her father. Perhaps if she’d been a better daughter, George Callahan might’ve been a better father. A better father would not have drained the savings account without telling anyone. A better daughter would’ve been more diligent in anticipating such a disaster.

Beth stopped typing and looked across the desk at Sophie. “Would you like me to deduct the fee from your checking account?”

Sophie nodded, her head going up and down like one of those bobblehead dogs stuck to a vinyl dashboard. Because ready agreement was expected from people in stunned stupors. Shock scratched at her throat, stealing her voice and sucking every molecule of fresh air in the cubicle.

Beth’s smile was more of a flat grin, a quick twitch of acknowledgment that neither upset her glasses nor loosened her hair-sprayed updo.

Sophie’s account could not be empty. Not after all the sleepless nights, tears and hard work. That money had ensured Ella a home. That money had ensured that Ella would be safe.

Sophie slipped her fingers under her legs to keep herself still. To keep herself from wringing her hands or running her palms over her jeans in some falsely soothing gesture. She peeled her shoulders off the chair, leaned forward, then lied through a grin that revealed all of her teeth. “My father is always looking for the best return on our money.”

Beth offered another quick twitch of a grin. The twitch of a person who recognized a lie.

Sophie continued, “It was certainly thoughtful of him to move the money to a higher-yield bond.”

The only bond Sophie’s father knew was a jail bond. Had he taken the money to avoid prison? He’d never mentioned jail when he’d called for his weekly catch-up with Ella two nights ago. He’d mentioned a plan to Sophie.

But her father always had a plan. Always some new scheme in the works. That was nothing new. He’d told Sophie not to worry. But she always worried. And he’d told Sophie not to panic. Too late for that.

If only Sophie hadn’t been distracted by an eighty-pound poodle petrified by bathwater, she might’ve asked more questions about her father’s latest scheme. Then she might’ve been able to squelch the fear curdling up through her now. Sophie squeezed her leg. “Who doesn’t want more money these days, right?”

Beth kept up her rapid typing. The hard strike of each finger against the key seemed to punctuate every lie Sophie uttered. “We offer some of the best rates in the city.” Beth pushed a receipt across the desk. “It’s unfortunate your father didn’t meet with me. I could’ve helped him.”

It was unfortunate her father hadn’t spoken to anyone, mainly Sophie. It was unfortunate that Sophie had believed her money had been secure. It was unfortunate her father excelled at finding loopholes and using them to his advantage. He’d just never used Sophie as his advantage before.

Until now.

Beth removed her glasses and considered Sophie. “I certainly hope your father didn’t lock up the funds for a certain period of time given your balloon payment is due in less than four weeks.”

Sophie stretched her dry lips. “There’s one thing my father knows and that’s money.”

Her father knew how to invest in business ventures that stretched the legal limits, use small loans to place bets at racetracks and make timely deposits into slot machines in Reno.

But Sophie would not lose their home or her business. She’d been homeless at Ella’s age. No child should experience that depth of fear, especially her niece, who faced every day with courage and a smile. Without Ella’s smile, Sophie just might forget to smile herself. And if that happened, Sophie feared she might lose more than their home. She just might lose herself.

Sophie pushed out of the chair. She had to get outside. She needed to find more air. She needed to find something to stop the buzzing in her head. She needed to find her father. “I’ll have the money for the loan payment by the end of the month.”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to make that payment.” Beth smiled and swiveled her chair toward her computer. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Callahan.”

Outside, Sophie leaned against the stone wall of Pacific Bank and Trust. Damp, cold air stuck to her cheeks like blistering hand slaps. Stoplights flashed in the thick fog, dull yellow flares of criticism and condemnation and failure. Even the pigeons nesting up inside the Pacific Bank and Trust sign never cooed, as if already aware she couldn’t afford to waste even one crumb.

Sophie searched the silver mist that had spilled into the city after yesterday’s winter storm, seeking the silent romance of the fog she usually loved. But only a dull grayness blanketed the streets. In front of her, a bus hissed to a stop. Its electric lines sparked and its brakes wheezed an acrid, bitter scent as its occupants spewed onto the sidewalk and scattered like bees from a harassed hive.

Cell phones chimed, coffee splattered the cement, paper bags with morning breakfast muffins crumbled as late workers rushed to their high-rise cubicles and corner offices. Inside the fog, the city pulsed, reminding Sophie that she was an adult and no longer ten years old, shivering and hungry in a one-room apartment with only her sister, who was just a year older than she was. Two little girls confused and scared and all because of George and Cindy Callahan.

How dare her father try to thrust her back into her past. She’d overcome her childhood with persistence and will and guts. He’d not put her back there.

She pushed away from the wall and strode along the sidewalk, stretching her legs into a run. Each smack of her running shoe on the concrete dislodged her panic and organized her thoughts, enough to quiet the frantic little girl that screamed inside her.

Her father had to be in some kind of trouble to take that much money. He knew what the funds were for. If he’d only told Sophie, she’d have helped him. He was her father. That’s what good daughters did, even when their fathers weren’t always good.

At the fourth block, she pulled out her cell phone and left her father a lengthy voice mail, pleading with him to call her. By the sixth block, she’d slowed to a fast walk and sent him four texts: two pleas, one appeal and one demand.

Eleven blocks later, standing outside the Pampered Pooch, Sophie wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and checked her phone. No response.

Silence was nothing new from George Callahan. Her father had always drifted in and out of Sophie’s life. The length of his stays had increased the last few years and he always surfaced eventually. Yet this time, Sophie couldn’t wait. She had to find him and her money and soon.

For now though she had a business to run and a niece to get to school.

The bells chimed on the door. Sophie stepped inside, leaving that frightened little girl from years past outside on the sidewalk. Inside these walls, Sophie Callahan was a confident small-business owner and capable caretaker. There was simply no room for anything else, like doubt or nerves.

Sophie flipped the sign in the window to Open and greeted April, one of her three employees, the one who managed to be both her most reliable and most scattered employee in the same week. Sophie never quite knew which April would show up on any given workday. But even April not at her best was better than no one at all. “Did you get some sleep last night?”

April waddled over to settle on the stool behind the counter. A bandanna corralled her unruly burst of wild burnt-copper curls, and a tie-dyed sweatshirt almost contained her protruding belly. “Barely. The babies kicked all night and my maternity clothes barely fit anymore.”

“You’re seven-and-a-half months pregnant with twins—I imagine that’s typical.” Sophie used the rolling cart to prop open the swinging door to the back room.

“So is bed rest,” April muttered.

“Bed rest?” Sophie gripped, in a bear hug, the fifty-pound bag of dog food she was hefting, needing to squash the kernels of panic popping through her core. “As in ‘you have to stay in bed and can only get out to use the bathroom’ bed rest?”

“Yes, that kind exactly.” April rolled a paw-print pencil between her fingers, but wasn’t able to hide the misery in her voice.

Sophie adjusted the bag in her arms and walked down the center aisle, feeling uneasy. Selfishly, she needed April in the store, not in bed. Reliable April was good with customers and calming for the pets, and lately she’d been helping Sophie organize the Paws and Bark Bash. The gala would raise funds for service dog organizations and rescue groups that helped with homeless animals in the Bay Area. Now Sophie had her father to locate. Who’d run the store while Sophie chased down George?

She dropped the heavy bag on the bent shelf. She’d known April would go on maternity leave; she’d just assumed she’d have more time to prepare. Things were supposed to be different in four weeks when Sophie had paid her debts in full. Instead, all Sophie had was an empty bank account, a missing father and surging panic that’d consume her if she wasn’t careful.

Sophie glanced over the top shelf at April. Tears filled April’s eyes and slipped down her full cheeks. Sophie rushed to the younger woman, swiping the box of tissues from the far end of the counter. “You have to do what’s best for your babies. It’s going to be fine.”

Everything had to be fine. Sophie had no other choice.

“I can’t stay in bed all day.” April pressed a tissue to her eyes. “It’s best for my babies if I stay here during the day. With you and Troy and Erin doing the legwork, I could sit on this stool. Bed or stool, what does it matter?”

“Being in bed won’t be that bad.” Sophie handed April another tissue. “Besides, you have to follow the doctor’s orders for the babies’ safety.”

“I can’t do this.” More tears dampened April’s cheeks.

“We’ll get through it.” Sophie rubbed April’s shoulders. “Everything will work out.” Maybe if Sophie repeated it often enough and shouted it loud enough, she’d start to believe her own words.

Troy, full-time college student, part-time pet-shop worker, called out from the back room before he leaned around the cart in the doorway. “Soph, can you help with the morning arrivals?”

Sophie drew a deep breath. Her cell phone hadn’t vibrated in her back pocket. Her father hadn’t responded. She’d lost her entire savings and an employee in the same morning. That little panicked girl from her past tapped on the front window, wanting to be let in. Sophie turned her back on the store entrance. “I’ll help you get the dogs settled, then call Erin to see if she can come in earlier.”

The bell chimed on the front door behind Sophie, signaling the arrival of their first morning customer. Sophie ignored whoever it was. “April, do not move from this stool. If that customer needs assistance, I’ll be right back.” At April’s nod, Sophie rushed through the back to the two outdoor play yards.

Doggy day care was almost full. Her rescued Lab-mix and two senior cats had finally been adopted into their forever homes yesterday. Sophie ran some calculations, hoping that would be enough to cover Erin’s and Troy’s overtime. One day she wouldn’t have to budget by the hour. At least that had been the plan. In a notebook upstairs in her third-floor apartment, she’d designed an area for more kennels to offer long-term boarding services and allow her to take in more animal rescues. She’d mentally renovated the empty second-floor apartment for a vet’s office. She’d drawn the layout for her modern storefront. She’d visualized the growth of her business, visualized making the Pampered Pooch a full-service one-stop that catered to a pet’s every need, both house pets and service animals. Unfortunately, she’d never visualized the disappearance of all her money that’d ensure her future vision.

And, worse, she’d never visualized not living and working here, in this space. Their home. That rapping on the glass increased, the terrified tempo tripping through her. No, she wasn’t that forgotten little girl. She’d find her money and save everything.

Stepping around a crate of dog treats in the storage room, she texted an SOS to Ruthie Cain, her best friend since freshman year in high school. They’d bonded while waiting to be picked joint last for the volleyball team in PE. She strode through the cramped kennel area and pulled up short to avoid slamming into the male back filling the doorway. The man’s broad shoulders looked as if he could hold the weight of the world without stumbling.

But physical appearance wasn’t an indication of the size of one’s heart. She’d witnessed more strength of character in a thirty-pound toddler than in most grown men. That same toddler now stood just over four feet—a compact package of bravery, kindness and a pure heart who reminded Sophie every day that good still existed.

Her cell phone vibrated and she opened a new text from Ruthie. Help was less than ten minutes away.

“Excuse me.” Sophie stuffed her phone into her back pocket and squeezed around the man in the archway, but she didn’t manage to avoid contact. She popped out into the storefront and caught her running shoe on the wheel of the rolling cart. What was happening? She confronted the stranger, the rolling cart the only barrier between them. “This area has to remain clear.” And it wasn’t just for fire-code reasons.

“I’m attempting to clear the area now.” The man grinned at Sophie.

There was nothing symmetrical in the small smile that lifted only one side of his mouth, backed up into a sculpted cheekbone and sparked into his more green than brown eyes. She’d never quite understood that centuries-old fluttery feeling women described until now. She’d never liked being too warm or too queasy or too aware of those complicated emotional spots deep inside her. She blamed the single dimple denting his left cheek and wished he’d step behind the storage-room door. Instead, he studied Sophie as if she might be his next task on his own private to-do list. And made her wonder if she ranked first. Sophie told herself to focus and cleared her throat. “You need to move.”

“If you step aside, the cart and I can clear the doorway.”

Even his smooth voice appealed to her. But good-looking men were like designer shoes in the department store. She’d notice, acknowledge and keep moving. Designer shoes busted her budget; good-looking men busted more than her bank account, like her heart.

April slid a dented, damp cardboard box across the counter where she perched. “He offered to shelve the dog food in exchange for these little guys.”

Sophie held the man’s gaze and willed April not to open the box. Prayed April wouldn’t open the box. Sophie didn’t want to know what little helpless guys shivered inside. She couldn’t accept any more rescues. “Our kennels are full.”

“But there’re five wet and dirty babies in here.” April spread a lavender Pampered Pooch towel across the counter. “Five teeny, tiny kittens that can’t be more than four weeks old.”

Sophie gripped the metal handle on the rolling cart. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to look. It was a school day. She was losing her employee. And she had to find her father. Wasn’t that enough for a Friday?

Mewling and scratching sounds drifted from inside the cardboard and stuttered against her heart. She didn’t have time to call Dr. Bradshaw to examine the kittens or search for the heat lamp in the basement or reorganize an already too-crowded kennel. She had to save her home, not add more dependents to it. “We don’t have room for your kittens.”

“They aren’t my kittens.” He pointed over her shoulder. “I found them outside on your doorstep when I arrived.”

“I’m sure your vet will take them in.” Sophie tore off a corner of the waterlogged box flap and crushed it in her fist. That was the closest she’d get without risking her resolve. Neglectful pet owners, even the good-looking ones, made her tired and angry. “And while you’re there, pay to have your adult cat spayed to prevent this from happening again.”

“I’m not a cat person. I prefer dogs.” He shoved his fingers through his chestnut hair, creating spikes on top of his head. “Those baby kittens would be invisible next to the size of dog I prefer.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” she said. He was more appealing with his disheveled hair and earnest tone and tense dark eyebrows over his hazel eyes. He didn’t like to be doubted. Sophie didn’t like mistreated animals. Even more, she didn’t like that this stranger made her want to check her teeth for spinach from last night’s salad, pinch her cheeks for color and take off her baseball cap to fix her hair. Notice, acknowledge and move on. She’d noticed his charm. She’d acknowledged his good looks. Now she needed to move on. “I’m not accusing you of neglect or being a bad pet owner.”

“Suggesting is almost the same.” He rubbed his cheek, erasing his dimple. “In fact, suggestion is often confused with accusation.”

Tension sharpened his voice and narrowed his eyes. Being accused of lying did not sit well with him. Sophie didn’t care about preserving his pride. She was the voice for the abandoned and mistreated and neglected. “And we’re thankful you’re willing to surrender this litter.”

Her placating tone hit another mark. He thrust his arm out and pointed at the corner behind the counter. “If your security camera was installed and not lying on the floor like a forgotten doorstop, you’d have the footage to show that I picked up the box outside your door.” He leaned across the rolling cart toward her. “You’d also have the footage of the actual cat owner and you could harass that individual, instead.”

Sophie leaned toward him, dropping her voice to a low menace. “I haven’t even begun to harass you.” That might be laying it on a bit thick, but she wanted him as unsettled as he made her.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider it harassment.” His voice softened, the edge receding from his words. “You’re the self-appointed guardian of helpless animals.”

Sophie stretched into every inch of her five-foot-five-inch frame. “Seven years ago, I opened the doors to this pet store and doggy day care to give working pet owners affordable and safe options for their apartment pets. I offer training and socialization classes. I foster and meticulously match every pet to each family. I’ve never denied a return or surrender. If there’s a rescue organization in northern California, I’ve partnered with them. There’s no ‘self-appointed’ about any of it. This is my business. My life.”

“And my life is not animal neglect.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head, his gaze fastened on Sophie.

“There’s an all-white one in here.” April interrupted their stand-off.

Sophie held her breath. Don’t let it have blue eyes. Please, no blue eyes. Sophie needed the cart moved. Needed this man and his kittens gone. She couldn’t afford another rescue. She held the man’s gaze, refusing to even peek in April’s direction.

A squeak, and then April’s words, softer than a sigh. “Both eyes are blue.”

“Are blue eyes bad?” Concern filtered through her cat rescuer’s voice.

“Over seventy-five percent of pure white cats born with blue eyes are deaf.” She rambled off feline statistics as if it mattered. The kitten’s second fragile mewl splintered through Sophie, mocking her resolve to ignore it. Sophie took the white kitten from April and wrapped it in the lavender towel.

Sophie hadn’t really stood a chance. She couldn’t have denied shelter to this abandoned litter, deaf kitten or not. Apparently, she hadn’t yet reached her maximum capacity for helping those in need.

“Someone just abandoned a litter of kittens, and one or more might be deaf?” Outrage and confusion collided, deepening her cat rescuer’s voice like a slow roll of thunder before the lightning strike. He glanced between the kitten in Sophie’s arms and the one climbing over April. Finally, he looked at April, as if he didn’t believe Sophie. When April nodded, he cursed under his breath.

Whether it was his outrage on the kittens’ behalf, or that she’d insulted him and he’d refused to back down, Sophie believed him. He’d found the box outside. He wasn’t the cat’s owner.

“It happens more than we’d like.” April kissed her gray kitten on its head and returned it to its siblings. “Sophie rescues anything in need. She’ll fatten these little guys up and care for them like she cares for everything—the right way. Her DNA won’t let her turn anyone away. Ever.”

“Speaking of taking care, April, you need to get your feet up.” Sophie placed the white kitten in the box with the others. None of them looked similar. It was as if each had been picked from assorted purebred litters, then tumbled together like mismatched socks. But they curled up as one, paws and tails entwined for warmth, security and survival, like a family. And now they’d be part of her family. “We can’t ignore your doctor’s orders. It sets a bad precedent.”

“Back on the stool now.” April frowned. “Resting.”

“And you’re swelling.” Sophie pointed at April’s ankles, which were swollen above her slip-on canvas shoes.

The man cleared his throat and pointed to the cart. “I’ll just shelve all this and get that dog food I came in for.”

Sophie dropped her hand on the cart and stopped the man from rolling it away.

“I ordered most of the dog food we carry and can tell you the best kind for your particular dog’s needs,” April offered in her excellent customer-service voice.

Of course, April had chosen today to contend for employee of the month, when unfortunately, these moments had become more and more rare. Still, Sophie frowned at the hope April injected into her voice. “You’ll help by going home to bed.”

“But we have customers, and you have meetings later this morning and only Troy here until this afternoon. And now kittens to clean up and create space for.” April never budged from the stool. “Besides, I’m better here.”

Sophie wrapped an arm around April’s shoulders, nudging her off the stool. “I’ll bring the laptop over this afternoon, and we can go over the table arrangements for the gala. While you wait, you can catch up on some daytime talk shows.”

“I don’t like those shows. They’re always about bad relationships or weight loss.” April yanked her sweatshirt down.

“Then watch reruns or read that mom-to-be book I gave you.” Sophie grabbed April’s purse from under the counter. “Just get into bed. The store will be fine today.”

“What about tomorrow?” April refused to take her purse.

“One day at a time.” Or, Sophie corrected, one crisis at a time. The cart rolled forward—or one customer at a time. She tossed April’s purse on the counter and spun, gripping the cart handle and stopping the cart from moving another inch. “I won’t let you shelve this dog food.”

“You can’t exactly stop me.” He tipped his head toward April. The woman scooted her pregnant belly back behind the counter like the good employee she wanted to be.

Sophie frowned.

“She can’t do any heavy lifting,” her helpful customer continued, his voice all patient logic and reason. “And you obviously have a busy morning.”

She’d already had too much busy in her morning. She wanted her normal routine. The one where everyone listened to her and followed her rules. “If you fracture your back on my property, you can sue for damages,” she said. “I can’t have a lawsuit.” She most definitely couldn’t have a lawsuit, not with everything else.

“I’m well trained in heavy lifting.” He pushed on the cart.

Sophie shoved back, stalling the cart in the doorway and her customer, with his warm smile and easy banter, in the storage room. But she’d never trusted charm and understood all too well the power of false advertising. She’d purchased those trendy boots that had guaranteed flexibility and pillow-like cushioning and all-day comfort and only ended up with raw, open blisters on both heels after one day. Shoes and men were not mistakes she intended to repeat.

The sleigh-style bells chimed on the front door. April stashed her purse, settled on the stool and slid the kitten box closer.

Sophie never loosened her grip as she twisted around and exhaled. Everything was about to return to normal. She gave a quick prayer of thanks for the arrival of her practical, steady and composed best friend.

Ruthie stepped inside, threw her hands wide and grinned at Sophie. “Okay. Duke and Lady are out back running with their doggy friends. I’ve rescheduled my morning conference to this afternoon. I’m all yours until one o’clock.”

The bells chimed again. Matt, Ruthie’s fiancé since their Thanksgiving engagement, strode in. “Sophie, please tell me that Ruthie won’t have to work the cash register.”

“April is still here to train me.” Ruthie waved at April before jamming her elbow into Matt’s side. “Besides, I can run that little credit-card machine without crashing it.”

“Sophie, maybe I should stay here.” Matt dropped his arm around Ruthie’s waist and tugged her into his side.

There was nothing possessive or overpowering about Matt’s embrace. It was as if he simply needed Ruthie closer to him in order to breathe. A sigh shifted through Sophie. Love suited her friends.

Matt grinned at Sophie. “We can send Ruthie to my job site. She’d be safer using power tools.”

“I lecture to halls with over four hundred college freshmen.” Ruthie pushed on Matt’s chest, but he never loosened his hold. “I can handle this.”

Sophie discovered her first smile of the morning. Her grip on the cart eased. She’d needed her friends. The ones that understood why doggy day care clients dropped their dogs off in the back, but entered the store from the front. The ones that followed the protocol and never wavered. Never altered Sophie’s rules. Never commandeered rolling carts. If it had simply been important to Sophie, they’d have done it to appease her. But Sophie’s priority was Ella’s safety and her friends recognized that, too.

She spun around and faced her kitten rescuer. “You can get your dog food now. I’ve got this.”

“Sophie, let Matt deal with that loaded cart,” Ruthie said.

“Out of the way.” Matt’s strong hands landed on Sophie’s shoulders and stilled. “Brad?”

Sophie’s customer leaned across the cart and reached for Matt’s hand. “I didn’t want to interrupt. This must be Dr. Ruthie Cain, the fiancée you can’t stop bragging about?”

Ruthie’s voice echoed the happiness in her wide smile. “Still getting used to that.”

“Ladies, this is Brad Harrington,” Matt said. “I’ve been a consultant for Brad going back several years now.”

Matt wore stained jeans, a plaid button-down shirt and steel-toed boots for his part-time job renovating historic buildings in the city. He also spoke more than half-a-dozen languages fluently and primarily worked as a translator contracted to the United States government for secret missions that Sophie believed saved the world, but Matt never confirmed nor denied. He was quite simply a brilliant mind wrapped in a handsome package. Sophie shifted her attention to Brad in his jeans, pullover and dimpled smile.

He was Matt’s friend. But she didn’t trust him and definitely didn’t want to know anything more about him. She was better off cataloguing Brad as that random kitten finder. “Do you work with Matt on his renovations or on his translation jobs?”

“Matt has the gift with languages. I’m in security.” Brad edged around the cart, stepped behind the counter and picked up the security camera from the floor. “I make these work correctly.”

Matt frowned at her. “Sophie, I could’ve introduced you to Brad a while ago. I thought you got that taken care of.”

“The manual to install it made it sound easier than it is.” Sophie took the camera from Brad and set it on the counter. “I’ll get to it.”

“I bet you haven’t fixed that front lower window yet, either.” Ruthie eyed the kitten box.

“Some things came up.” Like the trip to Chicago for a second opinion on Ella’s eye surgery. There weren’t any extra funds for window repair. And now she was out of funds, thanks to her father. “It’s fine. The glass is taped and I added a piece of plywood on the inside.”

“Anyone can kick that in,” Brad said.

“That’s what I told her when she did it,” April added. The extra tablespoon of gracious, obliging customer service saturated any condescending dips in her tone.

“Anyone can bust through the glass door if they really wanted to steal catnip.” Sophie scowled at Brad and willed him to be stiff and cold and abrasive like those expensive red heels she’d seen in the window display on Union Street. An alarm was quite low on her list of things to deal with. If she didn’t have a store, she wouldn’t need an alarm. She wanted to pull out her phone and see if her dad had replied. Or, better yet, keep calling him until he answered.

“That’s why you need that installed.” Brad gripped the cart handle and pulled, rolling past her. His tone patient, his voice calm, his words all too reasonable.

Sophie crammed her hands into the wide front pocket of her sweatshirt and tipped her chin up, defiance tumbling through her words. “Show me someone who will install it for free and I’ll get it done today.”

“I’ll do it.” Brad smiled at her, distracting her with his dimple.

Sophie paused. Hadn’t he heard her? “I can’t pay you.”

“We’ll work out a trade.”

“Other than dog food, I don’t have much to bargain with,” Sophie told him.

“The only Harrington in need of dog food is Brad’s mother.” Matt guided the front of the cart down the dog-food aisle, then glanced at Brad. “Unless you broke your own vow and adopted a pet, following in your mother’s footsteps, after all.”

Sophie watched Brad’s shoulders stiffen as if he’d been poked with a thick needle. He hadn’t liked Matt’s comment. Brad pressed his lips together as if to keep his response from flying free. And Sophie wanted to know what he refused to say. Sophie wanted to know about his family. Sophie wanted to know about this man.

But that wasn’t right. She wasn’t interested in Brad. She’d given up on relationships and all that ten years ago when she’d climbed into the ambulance with her unconscious sister and her three-pound niece born with a drug addiction eight weeks too early. Love stories belonged to people like Ruthie and Matt. Sophie might dream about her own fairy tale in the darkest, quietest, loneliest hour of the night, but dawn always returned her to reality.

Ruthie nudged Sophie. “Brad’s mother is the newly elected mayor of Pacific Hills. If you traveled down the coast at all last fall, you would’ve seen her campaign posters with the two greyhounds in shop windows and on the residents’ lawns throughout the entire town.”

“Your mother is Mayor Harrington?” Sophie had vowed never to follow in her own mother’s shallow footsteps. But Brad’s mother was mayor of the coastal town south of the city. Surely being like Mrs. Harrington wasn’t a bad thing.

“She is,” Brad admitted. “And I’m definitely not following in her footsteps.”

His voice was tight and drew her in even more. “You don’t want to be mayor?”

“I’ll leave the politics to my brother.” Brad lifted a bag off the cart and passed it to Matt. “And stick with what I know.”

Sophie needed to stick with what she knew, too. And that wasn’t Brad Harrington. Both Brad and Matt towered over the squat shelves that she swore groaned and pleaded for retirement every time she restocked. But the place was stuck in its current unpampered state, much like Sophie was stuck in baseball caps and budget lockdown. This was her life.

She pulled her baseball cap lower on her forehead. “You must have other clients or business to attend to. Something more important than installing a security system in a pet store for free.”

“I’m crashing at our friend’s place until my boat is ready,” Brad said. “Zack can use the food for the dog he rescued on his last trip to the mountains.”

“You’re still setting sail, then?” Matt asked.

“Just waiting for the guys at Delta Craft to let me know the restoration is complete.” Brad tossed the last bag to Matt. “Hopefully before the end of the month, I’ll sail out of the bay.”

“What about your job?” Sophie asked. “What about your family?”

“My partner is handling things in my absence,” Brad said.

Sophie noted he never volunteered anything about his family. And again she wanted to know more. But he was leaving. What else mattered?

“Brad is the H in J & H Associates.” Matt straightened the food bags on the weary shelf. “Always helps when you own the company.”

Sophie nodded. She was a business owner herself, but leaving had never been a consideration. Never. Not even for a long weekend. She had to be here to maintain the business and provide for her niece. An indefinite hold had been put on vacations. Last fall, she’d taken a day trip with Ella to Chicago for a second opinion on Ella’s eye surgery. Less than a twenty-four-hour turnaround, with most of their time spent in airports and waiting rooms. Definitely not Sophie’s idea of a vacation.

“So, do we have a deal?” Brad wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled. “Security system for dog food.”

“What kind of dog did your friend rescue?” Sophie was curious. “A Chihuahua hardly eats enough to pay for the cost of the security system.”

“A forty-five-pound mutt with one blue eye and one green eye,” Brad said. “I can be done installing this unit within the day.”

A day. She could handle one day with Brad Harrington. Brad’s presence was fleeting, like that wistful glance at the designer shoes in the department-store window—noticed and forgotten. “You have a deal.”

“That gives you about eight more hours to harass me,” Brad said.

The grin in his voice and the laughter in his gaze pulled her own smile to the surface.

“I’ll be back after I pick up a few things.” Brad looked at Matt. “Do you have a tape measure in your truck?”

“I’m parked out front.” Matt hugged Ruthie and moved to the front door.

Sophie watched Brad head toward the broken window. “I’ll replace that,” she said.

Brad faced her and shook his head. “This one is on me. Can’t put in a new security system when there’s a broken window.”

There was a stubborn set to his mouth, but something in his manner, how his head tilted just slightly, made her think he welcomed her argument. He wanted her to spar. Sophie stuffed her hands in her back pockets and held his stare, once again aware of that fluttery feeling in her core and her too-warm skin. His one-sided grin twitched into place as if he was aware of her feelings.

“Auntie!” Ella’s panicked shout steamrollered over all those soft, romantic notions inside Sophie.

Nice smiles, belly flutters—but Brad Harrington didn’t belong in Sophie’s world. Her reality was a ten-year-old girl, eye doctors and abandoned things.

Sophie swung around as Ella stepped into the doorway, a neon-pink brush stuck in her knotted hair, her fingers gripped around her white cane. “Auntie, I told Charlotte I’d have braids today. She has braids today. And I promised we’d match for the field trip. We have to match. It’s pairs day. You have to match your partner on pairs day.”

Sophie hurried over to her niece and started working the hairbrush loose. “Well, it’s a good thing Ruthie is here then, because there’s no one better at braids than her.”

Ella pushed her eyeglasses up her nose. “I thought I heard her. And Matt, too?”

“Good morning, Ella-Bell,” Matt called from the entrance. “Need a lift to school today?”

“I don’t want to wrinkle my dress,” Ella said. “Auntie ironed it last night.”

“Then we’ll plan another date.” Matt walked outside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Ella smoothed her hands over her dress and whispered to Sophie. “I haven’t wrinkled it yet, have I?”

“You look perfect.” Sophie leaned in and kissed Ella’s porcelain cheek.

“But am I wrinkled?” Ella stretched out the last word, unable to contain her concern.

“Not one wrinkle.” Ruthie adjusted the bow at Ella’s waist. “Now do you want one braid or two?”

Ella’s shoulders lowered and the corner of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “Charlotte says she has less hair than me. She says her hair is flat and mine is puffy.”

“That’s your curls, Ella.” Sophie freed the brush and untangled the worst snarl. “Charlotte’s mother texted me last night. She can’t do French braids, so Charlotte will have two ponytail braids.”

“Ruthie, can you do a French braid?” Hope pushed out Ella’s words in a rush.

Ruthie squeezed Ella’s shoulders. “How about two French braids? That will still look like two ponytails.”

“You can do that?” Ella asked.

“Anything for you,” Ruthie said.

“Careful, Ruthie, or Ella will call you over every morning to style her hair before school.” Sophie handed Ruthie the hairbrush.

Ella shook her head. “Only on special occasions. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”

The sincerity in Ella’s tone and seriousness in the firm set of her mouth ripped through Sophie’s heart. Ella had feared being an inconvenience ever since she’d overheard a conversation between Sophie and her older sister, who was also Ella’s mother. The little girl hadn’t needed supersensitive hearing skills during that particular morning. Sophie had dragged Tessa into the shower, fully clothed, after her sister’s two-day-long binge of drinking and drugs. Even through the hair pulling, kicking and continued resistance, Tessa had never ceased ranting about the inconvenience of family. The inconvenience of parenting. The inconvenience of children.

Sophie rubbed behind her ear. Her hair had grown back, yet the memory still lingered in vivid color. But the imprint on a young, innocent child was the deepest wound, and that unseen scar remained. No matter how often Sophie tried to prove to Ella she wasn’t an inconvenience or encourage her to leave out that word from her vocabulary, she hadn’t succeeded. But she’d never stop trying.

Sophie hugged Ella. “Okay. Ruthie, while you braid, April can give you tips on how to use the cash register.”

Ruthie groaned. “But you told me I wouldn’t need to run that ancient thing.”

“It’ll be fine.” Sophie pushed confidence into her voice. Her friend was a brilliant PhD, but far from tech savvy. “The cash register is vintage, that’s all.”

“And temperamental and finicky,” April added.

Sophie plowed on. “We might not have any customers this morning. So this is just in case.”

“It’s Friday. The bell chimes at least eighteen times on Friday mornings,” Ella said, and nodded, authority lacing her matter-of-fact tone. “I counted when I was home sick a few weeks ago.”

“That was a rare day,” Sophie lied.

“Auntie, you told me it was slower than usual that day.” Ella frowned.

Sophie kissed her niece’s cheek to distract her. “You stand still and get braided. I’m putting a load of laundry into the washing machine and checking on Troy. Then we’ll walk to school. April, you have twenty minutes to talk Ruthie through things and then you’re off, too.”

“Are the babies coming?” Excitement lifted Ella’s voice into a breathless pitch.

“Not today.” Relief poured into Sophie’s words as she rushed through the back door. Delivering twins couldn’t be on today’s to-do list.

“I’ll be here later this morning if Ruthie has any trouble,” Brad called from the front of the store.

Sophie shook the smile off her face. That she liked the idea of Brad being here poked at her conscience; she’d buried these kinds of feelings so deeply inside her, so long ago, she’d assumed they’d be lost forever.

Sophie returned to the group and touched Ella’s shoulder. “Brad rescued a litter of kittens this morning and he’s agreed to put in the security system today.”

“How many kittens?” Ella clasped her hands together. “Can we keep them?”

“Only until we find them their forever homes,” Sophie answered.

“This could be their forever home,” Ella said. “With us.”

Sophie rubbed her forehead. First, she had to ensure Ella had a forever home. “You know the deal. We can’t keep them forever, only for now.”

“Can I hold one?” Ella asked.

“After Ruthie finishes your hair and only for a minute. You don’t want to miss the bus for your field trip.”

“Ask for the white one,” Brad said. “She’s a puffball and soft like a cloud.”

Ella laughed. “She sounds perfect.”

Sophie watched Brad walk outside. Something about him made her want to pull up a chair and ask questions. But Sophie didn’t have time for idle conversations over coffee and cake. She’d never had time for the frivolous. Thankfully, she had less than twenty-four hours to spend with Brad because there were some things Sophie could never have. Brad Harrington was one of them.