by Lizzie Shane
Astrid and Kimber had shown up every day after school for the past week, spending a couple of hours playing with the dogs, walking them, feeding them, and working on their basic training commands. Their parents still hadn’t been by the shelter, so Ally didn’t think the girls had made any progress in convincing them to let them have a dog, but they were great with the animals. The dogs all seemed to adore the girls—possibly because they were a little free with the treats, but Ally couldn’t blame them. All dogs deserved someone who wanted to shower them with Milk-Bones and liver snacks.
Dolce hadn’t had her puppies yet, but she’d claimed the dog bed tucked into the darkest corner of the office as her own. She growled whenever Colby came over to investigate, adorable little rumbly grumbles, but she melted for Gram, who fussed over her constantly.
On Tuesday morning, Ally was going over the shelter’s finances for the thousandth time—trying to figure out exactly how much they could slash adoption fees in an “everyone must go” special and still break even by the end of the year—when a car door slammed in the driveway.
Colby lifted his head at the sound, barks echoing through the kennels, and Ally perked up just as much as the dogs. “Maybe this is our first success story,” she said to Colby, ruffling his head as she moved past him to the front door.
It had warmed up a few days ago, melting some of the snow and sending rivulets of water dripping off the eaves of the barn. Ally stepped out onto the damp gravel and smiled at the woman climbing out of a powder-blue vintage VW bug. “Good morning!”
“Hi!” The woman beamed as she approached, energy seeming to burst out of her smile. She looked to be in her twenties, with the kind of funky, eclectic fashion sense that would have made her a hit in Brooklyn. Her pink-streaked blond hair was barely long enough to be pulled into the ponytail that stuck up from the crown of her head. Lime-green leggings hugged the slim legs that appeared below the hem of her oversized winter coat and disappeared into fuzzy black boots. “You must be Ally. I’m Deenie.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ally clasped the hand that was thrust at her and immediately started trying to figure out which of the dogs would make this woman the perfect companion. On closer inspection, a heavy layer of glitter covered both of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Maybe little JoJo? The papillon with her cute tufted ears would make the perfect accessory to this woman’s funky style. “Are you looking for a dog?”
Deenie wrinkled her glitter-coated nose. “I sublet, so I can’t have dogs in my apartment—and I have too much of a weakness for impromptu travel to be a good pet owner. But I was hoping you could still use me as a volunteer. I love animals, and I’ve helped out for Hal and Rita a few times. Expert dog walker, at your service.” Her grin quirked. “Even Maximus listens to me.”
“Seriously?” Ally held the door open, and they both retreated into the warmth of the barn.
Deenie reached out a hand to greet the giant wolfhound mix in the nearest pen. “He’s just a big teddy bear. Aren’t you, baby? Yes, you are,” she gushed in a high-pitched voice, before continuing to Ally in a regular tone, “I didn’t realize you guys were in trouble until I saw in the newsletter that you’d lost your funding. Are you really going to have to close?”
Ally grimaced. “I’m working on getting us funding from other sources, but at the moment we have to assume we aren’t going to get it and make arrangements for the dogs.”
“That sucks. Freaking town council. We should start an online petition to save the shelter.”
“I’ll try anything,” Ally admitted. “Though I’m not sure it’ll help. I get the impression the town council doesn’t have the money to spare. Something about the community center roof.”
Deenie moved to the next pen to greet more of the furry residents. “It doesn’t hurt to raise awareness. Get people fired up, maybe get them to open their checkbooks. I’d donate the money myself, but I’m always one month away from broke.” She said it casually, so sure of who she was that the idea of being ashamed of trying to make ends meet didn’t even occur to her.
Ally wished she could be so comfortable just saying things like that. She felt like she’d spent the last decade pretending she had her life more together than she did. “I’ll take any help I can get.”
Deenie straightened from where she’d crouched to coo at Fred and Ginger. She dusted off her hands, grimacing. “Sorry, I’m getting glitter everywhere. I just came from a gig.”
“Are you a musician?” That certainly fit her style—and her confidence.
“No, I’m a princess.”
A princess.
At Ally’s blank stare, Deenie laughed. “I do princess parties for little kids. And I also design and create bespoke princess outfits for children of all ages. Honestly, the dresses are my biggest moneymakers, but the parties are way more fun. I get to dress up as Cinderella or the Little Mermaid and play with little kids all afternoon. All public domain princesses, of course, so the Big Bad Mouse doesn’t come after me.”
As soon as Deenie explained, Ally could see it. The energy, the enthusiasm—even with the pink punk-rock hair, she seemed like a Disney princess. Her smile radiated sunshine and sweetness, like the kind of person who could credibly have woodland creatures at her beck and call. “How does someone get into something like that?”
“I studied theater for the very young in school—which was awesome, but it turns out there’s not a lot of demand for the arts aimed at preschoolers. Though there clearly should be. We’re engaging their imaginations and building confidence and empathy—studies have shown all sorts of good things about children experiencing theater, but we’re in the same boat you are. Always the first funding to get cut. So I started picking up whatever work I could and just sort of fell into the princess thing. Luckily, I love it. Hi there!” Colby came out of the office to investigate, and Deenie bent to greet him, still chattering cheerfully. “The best part is that I get to make my own schedule. Life’s too short to live by someone else’s rules, isn’t it, baby?”
The last seemed to be directed at Colby, so Ally didn’t bother responding. “If you’ve volunteered here before, have you met most of the dogs?”
“Only the longtime residents. I just got back from backpacking across New Zealand for the last three months, so I haven’t met any of the new arrivals. You’re new, aren’t you, baby?”
Colby flopped onto the floor, exposing his belly for her appreciation. “That’s Colby. He’s mine.”
“He’s a sweetie.” Deenie obligingly rubbed his belly. “So where do you want me to start?”
Ally studied her build. Deenie had a good six inches on her, but she was thin, her wrists so delicate they looked fragile where they stuck out of her sleeves. “Can you really handle Maximus?” He looked like he would bowl her over in less than ten seconds.
Deenie grinned. “Just watch.”
* * *
Deenie was a freaking dog whisperer.
By the time she left two hours later, every dog in the shelter was better behaved, and Ally was trying to figure out how to get Deenie on the float with the dogs in the Christmas parade. Apparently the princess had meant it when she said she didn’t believe in schedules, so Ally had no idea when she’d be back, but Ally would take her whenever she could get her.
She was in the office, checking to make sure she hadn’t missed any incoming applications, when Astrid and Kimber arrived at three forty-five, breathless from having run all the way from the school. Kimber shouted, “Hi!” toward the office before running to greet Captain America, the golden retriever who bounded to the edge of his pen to meet her.
“I think Kimber’s found her favorite,” Ally commented, joining Astrid where she was hanging her coat on one of the pegs that wasn’t occupied by a collection of leashes.
“Do you have a favorite?” Astrid asked.
“Of the dogs up for adoption? I’m not supposed to. They’re all wonderful in their own ways.”
“But?”
Ally grinned. “I will admit I have kind of a soft spot for Partridge.”
Astrid grinned back. “He’s so squishy.”
“That he is.”
“Can I walk Cap today?” Kimber called, racing back to meet them.
“Sure. You can work with him on his heeling. Do you remember the training commands we talked about?”
“Sit, down, look at me…” Kimber rattled off. “He’s going to be the best-trained dog in the whole place.”
“He could be.” Ally looked to Astrid. “Do you want to walk Cap with Kimber, or would you like your own charge today?”
“Can I have my own?”
“Sure. Who would you like?”
“Partridge?” Astrid smile shyly, and Ally grinned.
“Excellent choice.”
After a slight delay in which Astrid and Kimber greeted every dog in the shelter, including Dolce, who was still holed up in the office, confirming to each and every one that they were good boys and good girls, Ally got the girls set up with their dogs of choice in the empty storeroom, where they could practice their good behavior. She watched for a few minutes until she had assured herself that everything was going smoothly. Cap and Partridge were such good dogs—though Cap was much quicker at picking up the training. She was hoping Partridge would pick up a few things through sheer repetition, since someone could be by to adopt him any second now that he’d been featured in the Twelve Dogs of Christmas.
The newsletter had to help. Ben was coming by after he got off work to help with the photo shoot for Jelly. They were going to find homes for all the dogs.
Then she just had to figure out what she was going to do with herself. But that was a problem for another day.
Ally had decided on the front porch of the house for Jelly’s shoot, so she headed out to set the scene. Thankfully it wasn’t quite as cold as it had been a few days ago, but her fingers were still stiff inside her gloves as she arranged Christmas garland over the railings, picturing Jelly sprawled adorably across the swing with the Santa hat on.
Before she knew it, Ben’s SUV was pulling into the driveway. He climbed out wearing the Santa hat, and a startled laugh burst out of Ally. “I thought the hat was for the dogs.”
“I’m trying to rehab my Scroogey image,” he called out as he crossed to join her.
“It’s working. Very festive.”
“So is this.” He climbed the porch steps, studying her handiwork. “It’s like a Christmas card up here.”
Ally bowed dramatically, grinning. “Thank you, sir.” Then she sobered, glancing toward the already darkening sky. “But we need to hurry before we lose the light. I forgot how early the sun goes behind the mountains in December.”
She started toward the barn and he fell into step beside her. “Who’s up today?”
“I thought we’d do Jelly—he’s just an eager bundle of love. A lot of people hear pit bull mix and assume he’s aggressive, but Jelly Belly doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
“Did you ever hear back from the news station in Burlington about bringing some of the dogs into the studio?”
“I did. I was thinking maybe Fred and Ginger and a few of the older, calmer dogs would be good. Less likely to be rattled by the lights and the cameras and all the strange people.”
“After you mentioned the parade, I thought we could also bring a few of them to the tree lighting in the town square on Friday. The whole town will be there, so it’s the perfect chance to introduce them to as many people as possible—and prospective adopters will be able to interact with the dogs more than they will on a float in the parade.”
“I love that idea.” Another flood of optimism rushed through her. How could the townspeople help falling in love with the dogs if they met them in person?
Ben reached for the door to the barn, holding it open for Ally to precede him inside. She stepped into the warmth of the barn, the dogs barking excitedly in greeting.
“Hello, boys and girls!” She started toward Jelly’s run with Ben on her heels.
“Ally!” Astrid called out from the back of the kennels. “Look what I taught Partridge to do!”
The girls rushed around the corner of the L-bend with Partridge waddling eagerly at the end of his leash between them and Cap heeling perfectly. Astrid looked up and stumbled to a halt, her eyes going wide—and fixed on a point past Ally’s shoulder. Kimber jolted to a halt as well, horror flashing across her face.
Ally turned. Ben had also frozen in place.
The sudden tension in the air reminded Ally of two facts in quick succession—that her grandmother had said Astrid was Ben’s niece the other day. And that she wasn’t entirely sure Astrid’s parents knew she’d been volunteering here.
Ally had completely forgotten the family connection—Ben and Astrid didn’t look anything alike, and they didn’t seem to have any nonphysical similarities, either. Astrid couldn’t stop talking about how badly she wanted a dog and how much she was looking forward to Christmas—which didn’t exactly fit Ben’s reputation of grumpitude.
Her grandmother had assured her that it was all right for the girls to volunteer—and Gram knew the town better than Ally did. But Ally knew she should have reached out to Astrid’s and Kimber’s parents to make sure it was all right. She’d planned to, but she’d had a few other things on her to-do list, and she’d never thought of it when it seemed like a reasonable time to call. Part of her had rationalized that their parents must know by now—but that assumption wasn’t looking terribly accurate as Astrid stared at Ben in horror.
“Uncle Ben,” she said, her voice strangled. “What are you doing here?”
Ben’s expression darkened beneath the Santa hat, which now seemed even more out of place on his head. “What am I doing here?”
Chapter Twelve
Ben had never grounded Astrid before. She was a good kid, thank God. A born people-pleaser. He’d never had to worry about her breaking the rules.
At least he hadn’t thought he had. Now he was starting to wonder if he had any idea what he was doing with the whole parenting thing, because he’d been sure she was spending her after-school hours working on Pine Hollow Elementary’s float for the Christmas parade. He’d pictured her properly supervised, armed with glue and papier-mâché.
She’d lied.
She’d flat-out lied to him. That had to be a groundable offense, didn’t it? Of course, his parents grounding him had never done any good, but he had no idea what else to do if she was going behind his back. He was failing the parent test. Again.
“Would you like to explain what you’re doing here?”
Astrid had frozen fifteen feet away from him, and she didn’t move any closer. Kimber Kwan—whose parents also probably had no idea where she was—had gone statue-still as well with a golden retriever seated at her side, but Partridge strained against the end of the leash, trying to get closer to Ben. Neither of them paid him any heed.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Astrid mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. “We’ve been learning how to take care of dogs. How to train them and stuff. I thought if you saw that I was really serious about taking care of my own dog—”
“We talked about this.”
His voice must have been even darker than he thought because Ally shifted, putting herself between him and the girls. “Ben…”
“This isn’t your business.” He realized he was still wearing the Santa hat and swiped it off his head, shoving it at her as he moved toward Astrid.
“I don’t see how it’s your business, either,” Ally argued, but he was already past her, closing in on Astrid. Partridge nearly tripped him with his greeting, but Ben didn’t take his attention off his niece.
“So when you told me you were working on the parade float, that was a complete lie?”
“I did work on the float,” she protested, though she didn’t meet his eyes, adding reluctantly, “at first. I just didn’t say anything when we finished…”
T
he kids had to be signed out by an adult. Pine Hollow was militant about stuff like that. “Did Aunt Elinor help you with this? Did you ask her to lie for you?”
She scuffed a shoe on the hardwood floor. “We told her we were walking home.”
“So you lied to her, too.”
She looked up, though she still didn’t meet his eyes. “Technically we did walk home. We just didn’t stay there.”
“Astrid.” Disappointment thickened his voice.
Astrid’s gaze dropped again. “I just wanted to show you—”
“Get your things. I’m taking you home.”
“Ben, come on…” Ally spoke from behind him, but he didn’t spare her a glance.
“Now, Astrid.” Ben glanced over at Kimber, who had been doing her best to fade into invisibility. “Do your parents know where you are?” She opened her mouth, her eyes wide behind her glasses, but no words came out. Ben grimaced. He used to be the cool uncle. Now he was the bad guy. “Get your things, too.”
The girls turned toward the back of the kennels, hunched together. Astrid tugged gently on the bulldog’s leash. “Come on, Partridge.”
The girls and the dogs disappeared around the corner, and Ben forced himself not to turn and confront the woman who had also failed to tell him that his niece was sneaking around at the kennel behind his back. He just needed to keep his calm for a few more minutes.
“I won’t be able to help you with the photo shoot today.” His tone was rough, but he didn’t try to soften it. “You can send me the pictures for the next dog, and I’ll put them in the newsletter.”
“I don’t see why you’re so upset.” Her voice was closer, right at his shoulder, but he didn’t look over. “She was just volunteering. She’s been very helpful, very responsible—”
“She’s been lying.”
She stepped into his line of vision so he couldn’t avoid looking at her. “Okay, that’s bad, but it’s between her and her parents, isn’t it?”
“I am her parent,” he snapped, then forced himself to lower his voice so it wouldn’t carry to Astrid. “Or her guardian, anyway. Her parents were in a car crash two years ago. It’s just the two of us now. And I said she couldn’t have a dog.”