Tail of Two Hearts. Charlotte CarterЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Three

      The following morning, Vivian tried on a few different outfits before settling on a shirt, with three-quarter-length sleeves, patterned in colorful fall leaves and her rust-colored skirt. She paired that with comfortable shoes for walking around the shelter, then tossed a light jacket over her arm and headed out the door.

      “You be good, Essie,” she called to her cat. “And leave Roger alone.”

      Trying to temper her eagerness as she drove into town, she still couldn’t help but look forward to spending time with Chase. And, of course, visiting the shelter.

      She parked on the street. By the time she reached Fluff & Stuff, Chase had already opened the door. Ready to go, he wore chinos and a tan windbreaker snug at his waist, which made his legs look extra long.

      Boyo peered up at her from behind Chase’s legs, his tail wagging.

      “Don’t you look like a bright autumn day,” Chase said, ushering her inside with one of his patented grins. “Makes me think of raking leaves as a boy and jumping into the pile and then having to rake them up all over again.”

      “We used to do that, too. It would take us all day to finish the job. Drove our mother crazy. And then the next morning there’d be more leaves on the ground, and we’d have to do it all over again.”

      “My car’s in back.” Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the rear of the store. The heat of his palm seeped through her light jacket. “Sounds like you come from a big family,” he said.

      Telling Boyo to stay, Chase let Vivian out the back door and then locked it behind them.

      “Mom had six kids. Three girls and three boys. We were kind of a rowdy bunch at times.”

      “I can imagine. Six children sounds like quite a crowd.” His voice held a note of dismay. “I was an only child, which was about all my mother could handle.”

      “Don’t tell me you misbehaved as a boy?” she asked in a teasing voice.

      “Not all that much. But all kids find a way to get into trouble once in a while.”

      “And that was times six for my mom.” Her mother had been awesome, the most patient person Vivian knew. At least most days that was true.

      When she climbed into his SUV, she caught the faint scent of puppy chow and spotted a few doggie hairs on the seat.

      He went around to the driver’s side and climbed behind the wheel. He seemed far more subdued than when he’d greeted her, and she couldn’t imagine why. Everybody’s family was different. Six children had always seemed ideal to Vivian. In fact, she’d like to have that many herself, if she could find a way.

      “Is your mother still living in Wichita?” she asked quietly.

      “No. She died a couple of years ago.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      He shrugged as though it didn’t matter to him, but Vivian suspected he cared more about the loss of his mother than he wanted to admit. With just the two of them, they had to have been close. From Vivian’s perspective, she couldn’t imagine being an only child—she would have been too lonely way out on the farm. Though she admitted her younger siblings were often pests as they grew up, and she’d been expected to watch out for them when her mother was otherwise occupied.

      Since their conversation had dampened Chase’s mood, she decided to change the subject.

      “So what kind of dogs do you think I ought to pick out for Doggie Daze?”

      “We’ll have to see who’s available, but they should be well behaved.”

      “And housebroken,” Vivian added. “I think Allison would appreciate that the most.”

      The corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. “I imagine so.” He turned onto Bronson Street for the short drive to the shelter, which was less than a mile north of town.

      Once past the center of town, houses on one-or two-acre lots replaced commercial buildings. Some families had a horse or two. Others had chicken coops and a kitchen garden, or a couple of cows grazing behind sturdy fences.

      “Look at those sunflowers growing alongside the road,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Apparently seeds had been blown or tossed onto the right-of-way between the road and the wheat field beyond. Several hundred feet of the shoulder was ablaze with bright orange sunflowers, the Kansas state flower. Their heads on four-foot-tall stalks were all aligned, aimed directly at the sun as though they were sending cheery wishes into outer space.

      “Looks like somebody decided to beautify the roadside around here.”

      In the distance, the silver tower of a grain elevator rose above the flat landscape, a crucial part of life for wheat farmers like Vivian’s father.

      “You might want to think about a bigger dog, like a golden retriever,” Chase said, returning to the topic of dogs for Doggie Daze. “They’re usually good with kids. And match him with something smaller, maybe a border collie mix.”

      “We could use a border collie to round up people off the streets to come to Doggie Daze.”

      He shot her an amused look. “That’s one way to gain an audience. Or you could ask Police Chief Sheridan to arrest jaywalkers and hold them at the bookshop during the event.”

      “Or Mayor Langston could issue an edict that every resident of Bygones had to attend Doggie Daze plus adopt a dog at Fluff & Stuff.”

      They bantered back and forth, each of them coming up with more ridiculous ideas to get people to attend the event. When they pulled up in front of Happy Havens, they were both laughing so hard they could barely get out of the car.

      Vivian wiped the tears from her eyes and drew a deep breath. “It’s just as well we’re here. I was running out of ideas.”

      Chase patted her hand. “I’m sure you’d be able to come up with more ideas if you had to. You’re one smart lady.”

      She grinned at him even as the touch of his hand shot a current of warmth up her arm. “Likewise, Mr. Rollins. You’re pretty smart yourself.”

      The shelter offices were in an old two-story farmhouse that had been revamped and repainted a bright yellow with white trim. The adjacent red barn held most of the animals, with cats kept well separated inside the main house. Except for a small parking lot, open land and a wire fence surrounded the property. Originally funded by the Bronson family, the shelter had since been repaired and restored mostly by volunteers. Now it was entirely operated by many of those same devoted people.

      In front of the house, a large sign carved in a plank of redwood read Happy Havens Animal Shelter.

      Chase held open the gate, and they walked up the three steps to the porch. A note on the door invited guests to come in.

      Annabelle Goodrich, wearing a navy blue windbreaker over her official shelter volunteer T-shirt, was sitting at a desk behind the counter.

      “Hey, Chase, good to see you.” She looked quizzically at Vivian over the top of her half-glasses. “You, too, Viv. What brings you here?”

      “Viv and Allison at the bookstore are planning an event called Doggie Daze this Saturday,” Chase said. “The idea is to sell books about dogs and how to train them, and hopefully get people interested in adopting dogs.”

      “Chase is helping us,” Vivian added. “He suggested we might be able to borrow a couple of dogs from you for show-and-tell.”

      “And I’ll need a couple for Saturday’s adoption day, too,” Chase added.

      Lean