Page 27 of Buttons

“Sloppy Joes!” Leo chimes in from the background. The phone must be on speaker.

“I am going to get it all over my face!” Meredith gushes, giggling so hard she snorts into the receiver. “Mommy said we have to eat them over the sink if we drop any.”

They keep gushing, taking turns shouting about the glorious, messy feast waiting on their plates. They are so incredibly excited for a simple meal, their voices tumbling over each other to describe the sauce and the soft bread. I listen to their joy, a dull ache blooming behind my ribs. I want to tell them to use their napkins as bibs; I want to remind them to wash up. But instead, I just close my eyes and let the sound of their happiness wash over me.

“That all sounds wonderful,” I manage to say, my voice thick.

“We will. I love you, Daddy!” Meredith screams.

“Love you, Dad,” Leo adds.

The phone clunks as it is handed back to Elowen. “You can call tomorrow for another check-in.”

The silence rushes back into the kitchen, thicker and heavier than before. Right then and there, a new determination takes hold of me.I need to try cooking. Looking at the counters, the loose, dripping meat and the inevitable stains of sloppy joes are far too messy for my structured mind to handle. I’ll manage something orderly.

Chapter 10

Elowen

The donation spreadsheet I’ve temporarily created tells a grim story. For the last twelve months, there’s been a steady decline in donations. That means the shelter will be forced to accept fewer animals for rescue, especially if they are sick. Not to mention how many standard repairs we need. Kennel nine needs new wiring; otherwise, smaller dogs can easily slip through and potentially hurt themselves in the process. The roof leaks at the back of the shelter, dripping directly into Kennel twelve. And there are several large potholes in the gravel driveway.

“Well?” Beatrix stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her faded shelter sweatshirt. Almost a full week of volunteering, and I still can’t read her. “How bad is it?”

I push my newly wavy hair behind my ears. “It’s, uh, manageable. But only if something changes.”

“Something always needs to change.” She moves into the office and drops into the chair across from me. “We’ve been ‘managing’ for years.”

“Barely,” I counter, pointing to the spreadsheet. “But unfortunately, our donor base isn’t growing…it’s actually shrinking.”

“People die. Move away. Forget us.” She shrugs like it’s inevitable. Like there’s nothing to be done.

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” I turn my laptop toward her. “I’ve been researching similar shelters in neighboring counties. The ones that thrive don’t just sit around waiting for donations. They create community relationships.”

Beatrix snorts. “Relationships with whom? The developers buying up property to build luxury apartments?”

“With everyone. Corporate sponsors looking for tax write-offs, local businesses, community residents.”

“And you know how to make these magical connections?”

The door bangs open, and Sarah breezes in with paint splatters on her jeans.

“Sorry I’m late!” She drops a canvas bag onto the floor and collapses into the third and final chair. “Art class ran over. Those third graders areinsane. I swear the kitchen staff are pouring sugar into the milk at lunchtime.” She pauses, noticing our expressions. “What? Did someone die? Please tell me it wasn’t Cyclops. Meredith would never recover.”

“Cyclops is fine,” Beatrix says dryly. “We’re discussing the shelter’s financial situation.”

“Ah.” Sarah makes a face. “That old nightmare. Let me guess, we’re broke again?”

“Not broke,” I clarify. “But under-funded.” Thank God Sarah and I are volunteers. I don’t think the shelter can even pay Beatrix’s salary.

“Same difference when the vet bills keep coming.” Sarah pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged on her seat. “So, what’s the plan? Another bake sale? Kitty cat photo booth? Selling pictures of our feet on Craigslist?”

“Elowen thinks we needrelationships,” Beatrix says, making the word sound sarcastic.

Sarah brightens. “Like corporate sponsorships? Because I’ve been saying that for years!”

“And I’ve been telling you for years that corporations don’t care about stray cats and three-legged dogs,” Beatrix counters.

“They may not,” I agree, “but they do care about their image.”