Page 72 of Buttons

He stands, extending his hand across the table, and mine slides to meet his. “I look forward to seeing what you create with the sanctuary, Elowen.” He walks me to his office door. “The children are lucky to witness your vision becoming a reality.”

I’m halfway to the elevator when the full impact of this meeting hits me. He treated me as valuable, not as an extension of himself, but as a separate, competent professional with a vision worth supporting. As the elevator descends, I allow myself a small, private smile. I came for money to build my sanctuary. I am leaving with that and something far more valuable: the confirmation that the professional identity I am building stands on its own merit. Julian’s respect feels like an unexpected bonus prize. It’s not something I need anymore, but satisfying to receive, nonetheless.

Chapter 30

Elowen

Naturally, I text Beatrix and Sarah right after leaving Julian’s office. Beatrix says I’m silly for turning down his initial offer, but Sarah says I should have accepted the check, only to burn it in front of him. I know she’s kidding, though. Julian’s growing on her.

The weeks pass quickly, and soon it’s time to break ground on the cat sanctuary.

I pull up to the abandoned veterinary clinic in my Honda, gripping the steering wheel with a mixture of nervousness and sheer excitement. Leo and Meredith begged to come, but I’m glad I told them no, because the building looks even worse in the bright morning light. There are two broken windows that I’m suddenly worrying about racoons climbing through, and the outside desperately needs a fresh coat of paint. Or several. This decrepit shell will become the Buttons Sanctuary Academy.Grabbing my clipboard from the passenger seat, I straighten my shoulders. I can do this.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I approach, work gloves tucked into my back pocket. The property is larger than it appears from the road and has nearly an acre of overgrown land surrounding the main building. It really is perfect for outdoor rehabilitation enclosures once we clear the debris.

Beatrix’s truck is already parked haphazardly near the entrance. I spot her immediately, gray hair pulled back in her signature no-nonsense bun, gesturing emphatically to a cluster of volunteers. Her voice carries across the lot.

“No, the dumpster goes by the fence. We’re keeping the loading dock intact, so don’t block access.”

The volunteers scurry to comply, a mix of college students fulfilling community service hours and shelter regulars. My chest tightens with unexpected emotion. These people showed up at seven a.m. on a Saturday to help transform an abandoned building into a dream. My dream. Our dream.

“You planning to stand there admiring the view, or you gonna put those gloves to use?” Beatrix calls, noticing me.

I smile and approach the group. “Just taking it all in. It’s really happening.”

Beatrix’s expression softens for a microsecond before hardening back to her default gruffness. “Won’t happen any faster with you daydreaming. Got the assignment sheet?”

I hand her the clipboard, and we begin dividing tasks among the volunteers in the parking lot. Connor and his contractor friend will assess the structural integrity. Sarah and three college students will clear the lobby. Two retired nurses who volunteer at SKCAS will handle the smaller examination rooms. I assign myself to the kennels to sort what can be salvaged and what needs to be scrapped.

Before I can head to my task, a sleek black SUV pulls into the lot. My stomach drops even as my pulse quickens. My Julian.

Unlike Beatrix, he parks perfectly, of course. I watch as he emerges from the vehicle, this time wearing sweats and a T-shirt rather than his suit. Still, a ripple of confusion passes through me. We hadn’t discussed him helping out today, not that I’m complaining. The volunteers have noticed him, too. Conversations halt mid-sentence. Beatrix looks up from her clipboard.

I should approach him, but I’m frozen. Julian sees me and walks over, navigating around a pile of broken concrete with careful steps.

“Morning,” he says, setting down a tool bag.

“What are you doing here?”

Julian glances around at the volunteers, most pretending not to stare while absolutely staring. You’d think they’d get used to him showing up, but gossip runs deep. “I thought you could use an extra pair of hands.” He gestures toward the building where volunteers are already carrying out debris. “I’m pretty good at tearing things down.”

I snort, because Julian is not good at touching anything, but then I understand he meant it as a self-deprecating comment related to our marriage, and that only makes me snort a second time.

“We have assigned teams already,” I say, gesturing to my clipboard. “The demolition crew is fully staffed.”

It’s not exactly true. We could use every available hand. But something in me resists the idea of Julian simply showing up and inserting himself without warning. Call me petty.

“I’m not here to oversee or direct,” Julian says, as if reading my thoughts. “Just to help. I’ll do whatever needs doing.”

I study him, considering. Truthfully, Julian has proven that he’s trying to support me, so I should accept his free laborwithout complaint. It’s not like he’s going to take control. I know that.

Beatrix approaches, her work boots crunching on the gravel. “We need another set of hands for the interior demo.” She gives Julian an appraising once-over. “If you’re serious about helping, go find Connor inside. Tell him I sent you.” She pauses, then adds with narrowed eyes, “Those fancy shoes are going to be ruined.”

Julian glances down at his sneakers, still pristine despite the gravel, and nods. “They’re just shoes.”

Just shoes. Shocking, coming from the man who once sent back custom Italian loafers because the stitching was two shades too dark.

“Connor’s team is clearing the main treatment room,” I say, making a note on my clipboard.