35. Nadia
35
NADIA
N eonatology. Working with babies. Dalton sounds excited.
We haven’t spoken in over a week, and it’s such a relief to hear his voice. “How has it been so far?”
“It’s so different from the ER. We have emergencies, but not fifty a shift.”
“Is there less drama?”
“I don’t know. Nobody gets stabbed, but man, expecting parents can be a lot.”
I pull Pumpkin from my jeans leg. She’s dug her claws in. “But moving specialties doesn’t change anything else?”
“No, I’ll still take my intern exams in a few months and hopefully move up to my residency.”
“Makes sense.” I was almost hoping the unexpected call with the change in his life might mean he could transfer.
“I just wanted to tell you. Tell someone.”
Pumpkin bats at my fingers as I push her away from my jeans. She’s determined to latch on. “Yes, of course. I’m glad you’re figuring it out.”
“Speaking of which, I have to run. I’m about to go on shift.”
“Good to talk to you.”
He ends the call with no endearments. No declarations.
Are we just friends now? Two people who update each other occasionally?
My heart squeezes. Surely not.
I pick up a feather toy to play with Pumpkin. She is desperate for attention. Ferris and Doppy realize I’m waving the yellow menace and dash onto the bed to join the fray.
“You all do know it’s not a real bird, right?” I laugh as I move it around, watching them lose their minds trying to catch the dancing toy.
The front door creaks open, and I pause to listen. A booming voice at the bottom of the stairs makes my heart speed up.
Is that who I think it is?
Oh, no.
I hop up to open my bedroom door. I can’t see the front door from here. I slide along the wall like I did in high school when I was sneaking out and peer around the edge to look down.
Uncle Sherman.
He’s here.
The kittens have all escaped and are hopping down the stairs. Pumpkin takes a tumble and I gasp, rushing after her.
“There she is,” Sherman says. “I heard you had a cat crew.”
I catch up to Pumpkin and inspect her for injuries. She fights to be put down.
“Yes, a whole litter.”
Ferris has already reached the bottom and circles Sherman’s pant legs. My uncle’s not much of a cat person, so he just watches with amusement.
Mom glances up with concern as I slowly make my way down. “Sherman was in Denver and decided to drive up.”
I shoot her a look that says, and you didn’t warn me?
“He decided to surprise us,” she adds.
Oh, I see.
He knew what he was doing.
“Too bad about losing your lease in LA,” Sherman says, rubbing his hands together. “I assume that means you are free to head to Florida? I am going there myself later this week. We could make a jaunt of it. See your brother. Take a tour of Dougherty.”
I look at Mom again. She shrugs. Nobody stands up to Uncle Sherman.
But I have to. “I’m doing work here that I like. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”
“Oh, really?” Sherman heads to the living room and sits on one of the oversized chairs, frowning when Ferris leaps into his lap.
I hope the kitten sheds a million white hairs on his suit.
Mom and I sit on the sofa, quickly joined by the other three kittens. Two curl up in her lap. Greyson chooses me.
“What sort of work is this?” Sherman asks. “Should I buy them out?” He gives a gruff laugh.
“An animal rescue.”
Now he scoffs. “That’s a money-bleeding proposition.”
I lift my chin. “Sometimes it’s not about money.”
His eyes lock on mine. “I’m okay with that. But if the organization can’t stay afloat, you’ll never get anywhere.”
“I’m thinking of starting my own ancillary company, more of a fundraising venture.”
He nods. “I’m listening.”
“Most of the rescues are understaffed and working with volunteers. They could use a more professional and streamlined flow of funding, access to big donors and not just local businesses.”
“And you would assemble a team for this.”
“Exactly. Like the big organizations for other causes that distribute funds for major illnesses or children’s hospitals.”
“I like it. Put me down for startup funds.”
“Axel is providing the seed money.”
Sherman slaps his knees, startling Ferris into leaping to the floor. “I’ll double it.”
Mom glances my way, lifting her brows.
I’m not dumb. I know money comes with strings. “And what would you want your role to be in the organization for your investment?”
Uncle Sherman stares me down. “Silent benefactor.” He stands up. “Caprice, you got some champagne? Probably beer, if I know you outdoor types. Let’s drink to this. Get Axel over here. We’ll use his people to draw up some papers.”
I sit still, not sure I’ve heard all this right. This was just an idea two days ago. I haven’t hashed out how any of it would work. Where I would be based. Who I would hire.
Is he serious?
I follow him to the kitchen. “So, no Dougherty, then?”
Sherman shrugs, opening the fridge. “They’re doing fine. Follow your passions. That’s what I want for all the Pickles.”
“I’m an Armstrong,” I tell him.
He pulls out a bottle of beer, peers at it, and pops the top. He raises it to me like a toast. “Every Pickle’s a Pickle.”
For the next few days, I figure out where it makes the most sense to base my organization. California seems like a good place with its access to wealth, but when I look into the laws and licenses, I’m not sure.
Maybe I can create it in one state but have a secondary location in LA? One glance at real estate prices for an office makes me rethink that as well.
Plus, what am I going there for? Dalton? Is that even a possibility?
I’m not sure it is.
Besides, I should be here, near the rescue I love. When I told Emily my plan, she told me I could absolutely base out of their offices until I got on my feet.
I don’t know exactly what to do, so I do nothing. I keep the status quo, working in town, feeding my kittens, and slowly creating a corporate structure, bank accounts, and a business plan.
I’m not sure I’ll find a way to make LA work.
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.