Chapter 9
9
I love this little coffee shop so much. Their chai teas and loaded lemonades are the best! ~ Libby A.
E very morning, rain or shine, Cal rolled out of bed at a quarter to six, poured his coffee into a thermos which he’d set on auto brew the night before, and hopped in his car to head to Hearts Fur Love Dog Rescue.
As he pulled into the parking lot the next morning, with the sun just beginning to peek over the tree tops on the horizon, the muffled sound of barking dogs greeted Cal. Gravel crunching underneath car tires always set them off. They knew what it meant: a little taste of freedom.
Each of the dogs under the rescue’s care needed to be walked four times a day, beginning with the early shift at six thirty in the morning. Most times every one of the shelter’s thirty kennels were filled, but thankfully, there was a robust volunteer staff to walk and feed the dogs, and clean the kennels.
Inside the building, Cal took one of the leashes from the wall rack and walked the length of the first row of kennels, to the next dog waiting to be let out. Several volunteers were already leading dogs down the aisles toward the back door.
He came to a scruffy, black mutt that looked like a mix between a Lab and a terrier. His wavy coat shone underneath the fluorescent lights, the effect from a good bath when he’d come in the other day from animal control. The poor guy had been a mess—matted and filthy. He’d been itching up a storm, too, from the burrs stuck on the underside of his ears.
“Sawyer, you look like a new man.”
The dog sat back on his haunches and raised his front feet.
“And a charmer, too.”
He opened the kennel door to clip the leash onto Sawyer’s collar, then walked him down the aisle. Sawyer’s jaunty step and ears pricked forward told Cal that the dog had already grown accustomed to kennel life—a good sign. It was the anxious dogs who cowered in the corners of their kennels and shook with fear that tugged at his heartstrings. Those were the dogs who had trouble getting adopted.
Another volunteer named Kelly was just outside the door when he opened it. The older woman always chose the smallest dogs to walk on account of them being easier to control with her arthritic hands.
“Good morning, Kelly.”
“Hi, Cal. I hear our Lola is going home soon. That’s great news. ”
“It’s wonderful news. Lola and I did a meet-and-greet a few days ago. Paperwork is filled out, so she’s ready to go.”
“Good for Lola. I hear she’ll have a big fenced-in yard to run around in, too.”
“And some teenagers to play with.”
Kelly looked down at the little chihuahua on the end of her leash. “I wish they could all have that. My heart breaks a little more each time I come in here.”
“But it also keeps you coming back to give these guys a little love, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “It sure does.”
It took its toll on some of the new volunteers, witnessing the number of dogs who’d been abandoned and rehomed, or bred for profit in deplorable conditions until the breeding operation was shut down. But instead of feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number who needed help, he’d found satisfaction in knowing he could be a part of the solution.
“I hear we may have to find a new place sooner than previously thought,” Kelly said.
“Before December?”
“Charleen went to last night’s city council meeting. The company who’s been contracted to do the work wants to start with preliminary work this fall.”
He gritted his teeth. “That doesn’t sound good. Is there a plan?”
“She and the board are talking later today to prepare for the worst.”
Sawyer tugged on his leash as a sign his patience had run out. Kelly waved good-bye with a smile.
The dog led him along the dirt path on the wooded grounds of the shelter. It was such a peaceful spot of land that he hated to see it go. Progress wasn’t always ideal for all involved.
As he walked, his thoughts turned to his meeting with Ginger later on.
There was no way to prepare answers when he didn’t know what kinds of questions she’d ask. He knew how to make a convincing argument for adopting dogs, but this time she’d be asking about him . It was the perfect chance to give her an unhurried glimpse into his life. Once she got to know him, really learned who he was, she might give him a chance. So far, their relationship had been defined by caffeinated beverages and dog drool.
The hours dragged between the time he left the shelter and when he headed out of his door again to meet Ginger. The fifteen-minute walk to the outdoor mall in downtown Greenhaven was a pleasant one. Leaves skittered along the sidewalk as he passed homes with tidy lawns in his historic neighborhood. The houses gave way to businesses soon enough, and then to the three square blocks that were closed to vehicles. The circular fountain at one of the intersections was the site for the spring arts fair and the weeknight summer music concerts. Food trucks pulled to the closest possible spots on the intersecting streets to access the crowds. Sometimes he came down here instead of taking a dog to Coffee Loft for a change of scenery, especially when he craved an Italian beef sandwich from Vito’s Little Italy food truck or one of the strawberry-basil macarons from La Patisserie’s dessert cart.
He spotted Ginger sitting on the concrete ledge surrounding the fountain as soon as he arrived at the end of the block. Beside her, there was a bag and two drinks with straws already poked through the plastic lids.
“You’re early,” Ginger blurted when he stopped in front of her. She laughed as she gathered her hair in one hand, gave it a twist, then tucked it over her shoulder. “I mean, hi, Cal. Sorry, that was rude. You surprised me.”
If he was nervous, she seemed completely unstrung. Her shrill laugh was the first sign. The two sloppy gulps she took of her drink was another. Lemonade dribbled out of her mouth and onto the front of her shirt. She dabbed it away hurriedly.
She wore a denim jacket and a long, printed skirt that competed with the colors of the gold and crimson potted mums nearby. Her hair, usually swept back in a long ponytail, curled around her shoulders. How would he possibly focus on her questions when he couldn’t look at her without his thoughts scattering in the breeze?
“I thought I’d order food before everyone swarmed the trucks for the lunch hour,” she said.
“Good thinking.”
He sat down and studied her while she opened the bags to sort the food. When she held out two sandwiches, Ginger eyed him. In the midday sun, her green eyes held hues of gold and blue. His pulse thudded like the drum solo in “Wipeout” at the way she stared at him for a beat longer than usual.
“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I pegged you as a turkey cranberry wrap kind of guy,” she said. “Either that, or you can have my ham and Swiss wrap with mustard. Sorry, I should have asked beforehand. ”
“Perfection.” He took the turkey wrap and a bag of potato chips she pushed toward him, too.
“Eat first, talk second,” she said.
Cal hid a smile behind his sandwich. Ginger’s assertiveness might be intimidating to anyone else, but it was a part of her that he found most charming.
They sat in comfortable silence for the first few minutes, eating and watching the noontime crowd. With her initial reaction behind them, Ginger didn’t seem the slightest bit self-conscious, unlike him. Could she hear his stomach churning and notice his hand shaking while he sipped his drink?
“I used to come down here for lunch all the time when I first opened the shop,” she mused. “Now I’m realizing how much I miss it.”
Two guys had stopped at one of the benches on the other side of the fountain and unloaded a saxophone and violin from their respective cases. When they started to play, she smiled. She thumbed toward them.
“And the buskers I miss the most.” She looked so serene, practically glowing as the men started to play.
“Why did you stop coming?”
She shrugged. “I got caught up in the idea that if I wasn’t at work, it’d fail.”
“Impossible.”
Ginger gave him a look as if he were wrong. “After that other coffee place opened on Second Avenue?—”
“I know the one.”
“I thought we were history. The profit margin did dip, and that scared me.”
“Then what happened?”
“I stopped dwelling on it.” She laughed. “I saw the same faces come back day after day, and I realized they’re not drawn to the big brand name. They prefer the little neighborhood place instead. So I played that up even more. Added the mug wall, the drink suggestion board, the little homey touches.” She nudged him. “The dog bowl on the patio.”
“Hey, not gonna lie. That drew me in.”
She laughed. “I’m glad it did.”
“I’m, uh…glad you’re glad.” He almost smacked his palm against his forehead for that winning response.
She gave him a little smile then directed her attention to the remnants of their lunch. Ginger crumbled up her sandwich wrapper and took one last sip from her drink. “Enough about me,” she said with a serious tone. “We should get to the interview so I don’t take up any more of your time.” Her smile disappeared. Ginger had her notepad poised on her lap, ready to get back to business.
“You’re not, but okay.”
He loved that she’d opened up to him, even a little bit. It was like throwing back the curtains from inside a dark room. Ginger’s light shone bright, and he could bask in it for as long as she kept talking.
The interview hadn’t even started, but already she’d cut short their conversation when she started sharing her innermost thoughts. It was like she’d suddenly downloaded a security update and sharing anything personal was malware to be eliminated.
Cracking Ginger’s firewall would take some creative troubleshooting, that’s for sure. If only relationships were similar to decoding software, he’d be the guy to tackle it.