“Don’t take it out on the desk. You can’t afford to replace it.”
Truer words were never spoken. Brad snorted in disgust. “What’s with the new chair?” And could he sell the old one? The cash for it might feed one dog. For a day.
Gabe curled his upper lip. “I came by on Tuesday to check on Max Payne. I saw how you defiled my old one.”
“Fuck.” Izzy wouldn’t like knowing they’d been seen. But then, at the moment, he didn’t much care what Izzy liked. He eyed the chair and blew out a sigh. No, he wouldn’t be selling it. That was a memory he didn’t want to toss.
Lacing his fingers together, he rested his hands on his head and got back to the crux of his problem. “Maybe we won’t have to move. A buyer might keep all the current tenants.”
Shifting, Gabe reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Sorry to be the nail in your coffin,” he said, and passed it across the desk.
Brad took the paper with cold fingers. He read the thirty-day notice to vacate and wanted to curl up under his desk and sleep until his problems went away. Instead, he got up and went to the kennels. Dogs swarmed, eager to greet him, and his mood lightened just a little. Until he remembered that these little guys were the ones who would suffer the most because Brad was a dumbshit who couldn’t make enough money to take care of them.
Gabe followed him in and handed Brad his phone. “Call her.”
Brad frowned. His friend knew enough from Brad’s bitching last night to know he didn’t want to talk to Izzy. Not yet. Not when everything she said would sound like an “I told you so” about his pathetic financial state.
But there was someone he could call. The phone rang four times before Bob Burker picked up. “Talk to me.”
“It’s Bradley Cohen, the owner of Forever Friends.” He squatted and rubbed the belly of a pudgy corgi. “I want to talk to you about this eviction notice.”
Burker heaved a sigh. “It’s not an eviction notice. It’s a notice to vacate. Different things.”
“They have the same effect.” He took a deep breath. “You just put the property on the market. I’m wondering why you want to kick your tenants out now.”
“Just listening to the advice of my real estate agent. We already have a bid that I’ve accepted. There are some contingencies, and it has to go through escrow before the government tries to steal it, but the buyer wants to knock down all the buildings and put up self-storage. I was told it’s best if everyone’s out ASAP.”
Izzy advised this? He gripped his phone. “That was fast. I thought the listing just went up.”
“Yeah, but we were fishing around beforehand.” Burker said something to someone on his end of the line, his words muffled. “Look, I’m on the eighth green. I’ve got to get back to it. Talk to my real estate agent if you have questions, okay?” And the man hung up.
Brad dropped to the ground and sat in the middle of the concrete floor. “Well. That’s that.” He looked around his kennels. The sofas and armchairs were stained and had tears and holes in their fabric. The corner of the room that held their shower nozzle had chipped tile and a serious spider web clinging to the ceiling above it. The space wasn’t much. But it was his.
Had been his. It was all going to disappear, and all because he was a jackass with money. His stomach hardened and his eyes blurred.
Gabe sat next to him and stretched out his legs. Max Payne took that as an invitation and lay across his thighs, pinning Gabe in place.
Brad stroked Max’s ear. “He’s out of solitary.”
“Yep.” Gabe ruffled the fur on the dog’s head. “No such thing as a lost cause. So, what’s going on with you and your girl?”
Brad snorted. “That was subtle.”
“I don’t do subtle. I do honest.” Placing a palm on the cement behind him, Gabe leaned back. “How long are you going to keep her in solitary, and why are you even bothering?”
“You can’t be serious.” He let out a bark of laughter, and their resident basset howled. “You don’t think I have a right to be pissed?”
Gabe shrugged. “How you feel is up to you. But I like a woman who can keep her mouth shut. Means you can trust her with your secrets. That’s getting to be a rare quality.”
Of course it was commendable that Izzy had ethics she stuck to. But didn’t a person also have a duty to the one he or she cared for? If Brad had information that he knew would hurt Izzy, he didn’t know that he’d keep it quiet, regardless of conflicts.
The other possibility was that she didn’t care for him as much as he thought. Brad had become invested. But he’d always been the one to drive the relationship forward. He’d taken her reluctance for trust issues when all along it could have been lack of interest.
Jesus. Brad cracked his neck. This shit was messing with his head. The banquet was tomorrow. He’d get answers from her then. Find out how invested she was.
He stood. “I’m going to change and take some dogs for a run.”
“You want company?”
“Not today.” Brad paused at the door. “You still coming to this thing tomorrow?”
“A chance to kiss donors’ asses?” Rolling his eyes, Gabe drew a circle in the air with his finger. “Woo hoo,” he said without inflection. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Watching his friend’s torture would at least make the luncheon bearable. Changing into sweats and sneakers, Brad leashed up four dogs and hit the streets. Although if Izzy told him she didn’t love him, nothing would make it bearable. But he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut. The way she smiled at him, the way she touched him. He couldn’t be reading her wrong. He meant as much to her as she did to him.
He hoped.
But that was only one of his problems. He had to save the shelter. If Forever Friends closed, he’d have to send all the remaining dogs to the county facilities. And though they tried their best, if dogs weren’t adopted within a couple of months, they were put down. Brad couldn’t let that happen.
It all came down to money. He’d made a good salary as an engineer, and he could go back to that. Use his paycheck to subsidize Forever Friends. But then he’d have to hire someone else to run the place. A piss-poor solution, even as a stopgap measure. Like trying to bail a sinking boat with a leaky bucket.
One of the dogs cut in front of him to squat in a thatch of ivy. Chest heaving, Brad pulled a bag from the reel attached to the leash. A clever contraption. The person who’d invented it had probably made bank. Brad snorted. Maybe they could donate to the shelter.
He found a trash can and disposed of the waste. “Another mile,” he told the dogs. His mind churned with each step. Little contraptions like that could make good money. And Brad was handy when it came to that kind of shit. Like with his mobility devices for dogs. Some people had already contacted him through his website asking about them.
Could he make any money selling them? Enough to help support the shelter? He tried to run some numbers through his head, remembered he was crap at that.
Izzy was good with numbers, but he wanted to present her with a complete plan. Prove to her that he wasn’t a total moron when it came to business. Prove that to himself. He stopped at the corner of Route 84 and Willow, and rested his hands on his knees.
Time to get back to the shelter and get to work. Between him, Gabe, and the internet, they should be able to piece a business plan together. Something solid. He’d impress the hell out of Izzy tomorrow with his spreadsheets and numbers.
“Come on. Time to go back home.” Untangling the leashes, he turned and jogged back the way they’d come. And like a pump, each step he pounded out inflated his optimism a little more.
* * * *
Izzy stared up at the darkening sky, the blue such an intense indigo it burned her eyes. She’d closed on a condo that day and landed two more dog-loving clients, and escrow for Burke
r’s property was running smoothly. All in all, a good day. She should have been happy.
The glass door to her kitchen slid open. “I brought wine,” Lydia said. Her footsteps clacked against the patio, then grew muffled when she hit lawn. She dropped to the grass beside Izzy and sat cross-legged. Placing a bottle of red between her thighs, she twisted a corkscrew into the top of the bottle and wrestled the cork out.
Izzy didn’t bother sitting up. “Did you bring a straw?”
“Nope.” Lydia toed off her sandals. “I didn’t even bring glasses. We’re chugging this straight from the bottle.”
Izzy held out her hand. Bringing the bottle to her mouth, she ignored the splash of liquid against her cheek and quickly wrapped her lips around the opening.
“Easy.” Lydia reclaimed the bottle. “This stuff costs eighty dollars resale. It deserves a little respect.”
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Izzy sniffed. “It’s good.”
“Where’s Ana?”
“Went to Katie’s house after soccer practice for dinner.” Izzy had kept up her smile until she’d dropped off Ana, and it had exhausted her. A broken heart didn’t hurt so much as leave her numb. Numb and tired. She wanted to crawl into bed and not emerge from under her covers until next year.
Lydia brought the bottle to her mouth and took a chug. “Damn, Kevin is a genius with grapes.”
Izzy opened and closed her hand. “More.”
“Christ, do you want me to go pour it into a baby’s bottle?” But she handed over the goods.
Izzy poured more eighty-dollar wine down her throat. “Why do men always leave?”
Rolling to her back, Lydia lay beside her at a right angle, their heads almost touching. “Not all men leave,” she said quietly.
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Izzy shook her head. “I told you that from the start. What the hell was I thinking dating. I’m a mother, for Christ’s sake.”
“Which means you can’t have a life of your own?” Lydia reached for the bottle next to Izzy’s head and slapped her in the face instead. “Sorry. I have to say, I was proud of you for going after something for yourself. It’s not a bad thing to try to be happy, Izzy.”
“I’m not happy.”
“Not right now, no.” Lydia took a couple pulls from the bottle. The wine level was going down quickly. “But you will be.”
Something warm and soft curled against Izzy’s leg. She looked down and saw Vi lying next to her. The dog rested her head and one paw on Izzy’s thigh and stared up at her with her large brown eyes.
Izzy struggled to swallow. “Thanks, girl.” She rubbed Vi’s head. From bared teeth when they’d first met to silent support. They’d come a long way.
Another buddle of fur threw itself onto Izzy’s chest, tiny claws scraping against her skin. “Jasmine,” she groaned.
Lydia took another swig. “If I’d known it was going to be a dog party, I would have brought Stephanie.”
“How’s she doing at the winery?”
“Knocking over everything on the shelves, eating our cheese and crackers, and attacking anyone who comes through the door.” Lydia sounded cheerful about this.
“How does Kevin take that?”
Lydia’s voice went soft. “He’s really sweet with her. Very patient.”
“Kevin’s a patient man.” With Lydia as a partner, he had to be.
“I’m, um, taking him to the banquet tomorrow.” Lydia scratched at the label on the bottle. “As my date.”
“Hmm.” Izzy turned her face up, trying to catch the last rays of the sun. “Very interesting.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Anything else I say might come out sounding a lot like ‘I told you so.’” Lifting Jasmine into the air, she nuzzled the pup until he growled.
“Then probably best that you stay silent.” Lydia sniffed. More wine was guzzled. “Are you schtill”—she cleared her throat—“still going yourself?”
“Yes.” A small part, well, maybe not so small, dreaded the luncheon tomorrow. She didn’t even know if Brad still wanted to give her an award. But she’d put in so much work, and Forever Friends needed the fund-raiser now more than ever. “But I’m going to try to cut out as early as I can.”
Her phone rang, and she dug in her jeans pocket and tugged it out. “Hello?”
“Ms. Lopez? This is Marla Popov. How are you doing?”
“Good. What can I do for you?”
“Two things. I liked one of the cabins that you emailed me about and would like to set up a walk-through.”
“Great.” Some of those “cabins” were in the high six figures. Brad said he didn’t want any of her commission to help the shelter, but he couldn’t stop her from making an anonymous donation to Forever Friends. And every commission she made could help pad that donation. “What was the second thing?”
“I inherited a piece of land outside Clarion Township and have been sitting on it for years,” Marla said. “I was thinking now might be the time to sell it.”
Izzy sat up, and Jasmine tumbled to her lap. She stroked his back. “How big is the parcel?”
“Eight acres. It’s really quite lovely. Borders the Blue Haven River.”
Izzy wished she was at her table, but Vi and Jasmine had her pinned. She looked over at Lydia and mimed writing something, but Lydia shook her head. Nope, no pen or paper. “Is it vacant land?”
“Yes. Well except for the old flour mill.”
An idea tickled the back of her mind, and her pulse raced. Land next to Brad’s favorite river? With a structure in place? She scooted out from beneath the dogs and rolled to her feet. Hurrying to her computer inside, she booted it up. “So, tell me about this mill. How many square feet is it?”
Chapter Eighteen
“Mom, does Jazz have to stay on his leash?” Ana unwound the strap from between the pup’s legs.
Izzy peered through the crowd, rolling up onto her toes. “Yes. Both Jazz and Vi.” In the last two days Ana had taken to calling her puppy by the name Brad and Jerome used. Since her and Brad’s fight, Izzy had asked Ana to come home to watch their dogs instead of going to the shelter. She didn’t know if Brad wanted to see anyone connected to her at the moment, including her daughter. Ana probably missed Brad, hence the use of his nickname for Jasmine.
“We’re not supposed to have them in here in the first place.” For the banquet, Izzy had rented out the facilities the local Rotary Club used for their luncheons. The manager hadn’t specifically stated no dogs, but then, most places didn’t think that needed to be spelled out. The presence of the dogs would up the donations, however. And any photo op would look that much better if Izzy had her dogs in it.
She craned her neck. Where was Brad? This luncheon was to support Forever Friends. He should have been at the front doors greeting people as they entered.
A tall blonde strode through the doors, a huge black standard poodle trotting by her side. She spotted Izzy and made a beeline.
“Her dog isn’t on a leash,” Ana muttered.
Marla’s dog also was in perfect step with its owner, not a squirming, rollicking mess like Jazz. Izzy smiled brightly and stretched out her arm. “Hi, it’s nice to see you again. I’m so glad you could make it.”
Marla took her hand. “Well, since I’m considering investing heavily in the shelter, it seemed prudent that I learn everything I could about it.”
“I went and inspected your property this morning,” Izzy said. “You were right that the door to the mill was unlocked.” Closer to falling off its hinges, more like, but that was something easily repaired. “I think it would be perfect for our purposes. I also ran the numbers about what you could write off as a donation for charging below market rent and emailed it to you a little while ago.”
Rubbing her thumb against her third finger, M
arla twisted her emerald ring. “I sent it on to my accountant to review. But I do love me some tax write-offs.” She stepped around Izzy and knelt next to Ana and the dogs. “Hi,” she said to Ana. “I’m Marla. Who are these guys?” She leaned forward, and the slit in her sarong skirt parted, showing a wedge of toned thigh.
Ana introduced them. Vi tolerated Marla’s ear scratch; Jazz writhed in ecstasy at his belly rub.
Gabe stepped next to Izzy. She glanced around him but didn’t see Brad.
“He’s still meeting with his web team.” Gabe cocked his head, his gaze sweeping over Marla’s legs.
He must mean Eugenie and Debbie, though it was funny to think of Brad having a web team. Her amusement left as swiftly as it’d come. “Is he…does he still want to go on with the award ceremony? We could just make this a fund-raising luncheon.”
Gabe twisted his lips. “You’re still getting your award, don’t worry.”
“That’s not what I was worried about!”
Marla stood. Her strawberry-blond hair was styled in a fishbone braid today, and she tossed the tail over her shoulder. “Why shouldn’t she get an award? She rescued all those poor dogs.”
“It’s fine, Marla.” The woman couldn’t know that Gabe came by his rudeness naturally. Izzy didn’t think the man could help it. “Brad and I had a disagreement, and I wasn’t sure he wanted to see me here.” Her throat clogged, and Izzy blinked. Surely if she secured Marla’s property for a new shelter, he’d forgive her then. He’d have to.
“Rescue seems too strong a word.” Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. “She found some dogs in an apartment. It’s not like she was avoiding enemy fire and kicking down doors.”
Izzy agreed. She’d done nothing more than what the average person should do. But Marla’s shoulders squared off and she narrowed her eyes.
“Marla, this is Gabe Moretti, the vet at Forever Friends.” Izzy made the introductions, trying to break the tension. “Gabe, this is Marla Popov. A potential donor.” So don’t be a prick, she tried to communicate with her eyes.
He grunted, and blew out a breath. “I’ve gotta find Brad, get this shindig started. Nice to meet you,” he said to Marla, and turned on his heel and left.
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