Chapter 7
chapter seven
Charlotte
When I first walked into this barn, it felt dirty and ancient.
Now, it almost feels like a vacation work-from-home setup.
Caleb has set up a table for me, brought out a comfortable office chair, and even laid down an extension cord that he duct taped up the leg of the table into a power strip so I can plug in my laptop, a lamp, and a small desk fan.
The weather has been nice and breezy, but by noon it can get a little warm.
In just a few days, I’ve grown accustomed to the fragrant smell of hay and outdoors.
When I go back to my office at Perfectly Planned, with its pristine desk, well-stocked coffee and snack bar, and various perfumes in the air from my coworkers, I feel suffocated.
Like I can’t possibly work in there when the rustic beauty of my temporary barn desk is so much more inviting.
Caleb knocks on the giant—and wide open—wooden barn door. He’s never knocked before. It’s a massive open space, not some private office.
“What’s up?” I ask, not looking up from my laptop.
“Catering is booked, and they’re even doing a cute menu where the food options have dog-themed names.
I just booked a better DJ than the first guy we looked at.
This one dresses formally and will also handle slide deck so we won’t need a second person for that.
The local Girl Scout troop heard about what we’re doing and they offered to host a dog wash fundraiser for us where they’ll donate all the money they make from washing people’s dogs to you. Cool, huh?”
He’s still standing there, twenty feet away at the barn door, forearm leaning against the frame.
“Caleb?”
He steps inside. This tall man with a body of lean muscle, somehow looks half his size as he walks up to me, a frustrated look digging into his face. “I just got bad news.”
“What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?” My thoughts go straight to Rex. What if he has cancer or something? Do dogs get cancer?
Caleb blows out a deep sigh. “WLB Construction wants us to move our event date. How hard would that be for you to do? I can pay you an emergency rush fee, or whatever it costs. We can’t lose him and he said he’d pull out all together if we don’t change our date to Wednesday.”
All my sudden fears of something being truly wrong dissipate. Rex is okay; everyone is okay. Anger floods into the space that just held fear, only I have a lot more room for this kind of anger. “William Bryan told you that?”
He nods. “The owner of WLB.”
“I know who he is,” I say, shaking my head with the audacity of that man. He’s the kind of man just wealthy enough to lord it over others, but not nearly wealthy enough to make me give a damn about him. “We’re not changing the date.”
“Charlotte, we have to.” There’s a real pain in his warm brown eyes. the Alden K9 Foundation means the world to him and he sees WLB as his saving grace for this gala. Not on my watch.
“No, we don’t. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Caleb’s lips press together. “WLB is one of the biggest companies in town. He’s a powerful guy and he’s our biggest donor. We don’t just have tons of people knocking down our door begging to give us that kind of money. We have to do what he wants.”
I stand up, meaning to get eye level with him, but he’s still much taller. “No, we don’t. I don’t give a shit about Willam Bryan.”
Every moment spent with that man rises in my memory.
The way he’d tell Bobby he deserved a better looking woman than me, a woman who wasn’t all into college and being a career woman.
The way he’d make Bobby cancel our plans just to lord some kind of control over his son, loving how he was powerful enough to make everyone scramble to please him.
He’s no doubt doing the same thing right now to Caleb, delighting in knowing this man will ruin all his plans to suck up to him to get his money. Nope. Not on my watch.
“You know what’s more powerful than WLB?” I ask, gritting my teeth together. I’m not much of a "positive thinking” manifestation girlie, but right now I have no other choice but to trust that I’ll figure this out.
“What?” he says with a slight tilt to his head. As worried as he is, there’s a light in his eyes now. A small bit of hope he’s allowing himself to feel, because of me. He cares more about this business than anything else, and right now he’s about to trust it all to me.
I grin. “The donor who replaces him.”
His eyes widen. “And who is that?”
I shrug one shoulder like it’s no big deal at all. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to get twenty five thousand dollars. It’s not—and I’m internally freaking out—but I don’t want Caleb to know that. I smile. “I’ll figure it out.”
Caleb returns my smile with a hesitant one of his own. “Thanks, Charlotte.”
That hesitant smile is the most genuine thing I’ve seen him do…well that and talking about his passion for saving retired working dogs. The little upturn of his lips, a sign of a strong man showing a bit of weakness, does something to my insides. I quickly shove that thought out of the way.
I press a hand to his shoulder, which brings that tingly feeling right back to the pit of my stomach. I shove that away, too. “You get back to work saving K9s, and I’ll get you a new donor. I promise.”
His hand crosses his chest to cover up mine. He squeezes a bit, his eyes softening. “Thank you.”
I spend the next two hours calling every contact I know and dozens I don’t know. When my boss Jenny checks in via Teams chat, I tell her everything is going great and I don’t dare mention that our largest donor has pulled out.
Maybe in another reality I might have caved to this donor’s wishes and gone about changing the date and all the headache that would cause.
It might even be easier to change an entire gala date than to find a new donor.
But this isn’t business anymore. It’s gone full personal.
That man caused so much heartache in my life by controlling his son the way he controls everyone.
And at the end of the day, Bobby chose his dad and the family business over me, the woman he spent years saying he’d marry.
I was told to quit my job, lose twenty pounds, and be a perfect little housewife who never spoke up about anything, or get out.
I got out. I’ll never look back.
After the third hour of unsuccessfully finding a new major donor, I start to get antsy.
I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I’m doing this for moral reasons and I wish the universe would just throw me a bone and make it easy to replace WLB.
I even call Wal-Mart. They’re way too corporate and would make an ugly looking logo on our donor posters, but desperation is pushing through my confidence.
Wal-Mart says no. I drop my cell phone to the desk and slam my laptop closed.
I stand, shaking out my limbs and doing a few arm stretches.
I will not let William Bryan win. But I can’t let more than a day or two go by without a large donor because we are way too close to the gala to not have something lined up.
I need some water. Venturing through the barn to the admin building, I say hi to Ethan at the front counter.
“How’s it going?” he asks. He’s chipper, without a single panicked wrinkle on his face, so I’m betting Caleb didn’t tell him the bad news.
“Great,” I say. I crack open a cold bottle of water from the fridge that I’ve been told to help myself to, and glance out the window. Caleb just walked out to the parking area to greet a guy who gets out of a black box van.
They talk a moment, and then walk to the back van door.
A few moments later, a tan lab comes walking out with a hot pink leash the driver hands over to Caleb.
He kneels down, letting the dog smell and lick all over his face.
I think she’s a girl, given the pink collar and leash.
Her tail happily wags so hard that her butt shakes back and forth.
I’ll admit—labs are cute and not nearly as scary looking.
But all dogs have teeth and all teeth hurt.
“Oh sweet, Rain is here!” One of the twin guys says as he appears from down the hallway. I don’t remember his name but he and his twin have done absolutely nothing to distinguish themselves apart. Same haircut, same shaved face, same clothing styles.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“She’s an arson dog who just got retired and had nowhere to go. Her handler was diagnosed with an aggressive disease and can’t handle the stress of caring for a dog and dealing with his treatment.”
“Wow,” I breathe, still watching Caleb outside as he loves on Rain. Unlike Rex, who is all business all the time, Rain seems to love playing and getting pet. “That’s so sad.”
Max (or Owen) bursts out the door to go meet the new dog.
“Our second official Alden K9 rescue,” Ethan says. “Just think of all the dogs who will be saved from euthanasia thanks to Caleb’s efforts.”
I smile. My phone rings. Jenny’s name on the screen immediately kills any hope that it’s a wealthy person calling to donate money. I slip into Caleb’s empty office to take the call.
“Great news,” Jenny says. “Those brats at Ally Party Planning have poached two more clients from us.”
“That sounds like bad news,” I say.
“Of course it’s bad. But it's also great news because this should motivate everyone to work harder. Charlotte, your event has potential to go viral online. Everyone loves a good animal sob story. I need you to make this viral, kay? Don’t embarrass me. Do a good job. You’ve got this.”
She hangs up.
Great, that’s just what I needed. More pressure.