Authors: Amanda Lance
“I know all of that
,” Kasper snapped. “Do you have anything I don’t know?”
After she
left, Frankford had once again come through for him, giving Kasper regular updates on Emilia Ward and how she was advancing. He pretended, of course, to be indifferent about her and her current life. But in all truthfulness, they were the tidbits he lived for, the pieces of information that he relished on a day-to-day basis. Without them, he was not sure he could have withstood the absence of Emilia from his life. He certainly knew he wouldn’t have had the restraint to decline her phone calls, or worse yet, the strength to deal with them when they stopped coming.
Frankford sighed. He was a younger man, but after serving two tours in Afghanistan and now on disability after a couple of years as a police officer,
he was well-experienced for someone his age and had a great number of contacts and resources as a result of his likeable personality that Kasper could not have accumulated in his lifetime.
“I would
if you’d let me finish.”
Kasper rotated
his wrist until it cracked. “Very well.”
“She’s been checking out books h
ow to better update her resume—”
“Why would she be doing that?”
Frankford crossed his legs and leaned his head back. “Probably because the branch of the animal shelter she works for has all but run out of funding. From what I understand, they have approximately 90 days remaining on their lease before they’ll be served an eviction notice.”
“Hmm
.”
This was
a prime example of the main element that disturbed Kasper the most about this new arrangement: while he could pay Frankford to look in on Emilia, Kasper could only obtain statements about her. Everything else was lost in assumptions, and the true nature of Emilia Ward—how she felt and what she was thinking—was managed by speculation.
“Kasper.
”
He looked to
wards the door at the sound of his name, already feeling the judgment in Aasif’s stare as he entered the room. Even if he had stopped lecturing Kasper long ago on why it was so wrong to “spy” on Emilia, Aasif had somehow perfected a glare of his opinion that annoyed Kasper just as much.
“Yes?”
“That proposal you reviewed this morning? The Baldwins agreed and signed. All that remains is your own signature.”
Kasper nod
ded and turned back to Frankford. “Leave your notes on your way out.”
The detective got up and tossed down the unmarked file
before walking out. “Always glad to see you, too.”
Kasper waited almost until Frankford had left the room completely before grabbing the file off the desk, his eyes still doing their best to avoid Aasif.
“Not a word out of you.”
“Did I say anything?”
“You didn’t have to,” Kasper scoffed. “Your face is terribly expressive. No wonder you never win in court.”
“Ha
ha,” Aasif mimicked. “You frightened me there for a moment. I thought you might actually go an entire two minutes without insulting me.”
He
yanked the packet of papers from his attorney’s hands and rolled his eyes. “There.” He handed him back the initialed forms. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.
Is there anything
you
need to make me aware of?”
Kasper looked him up and down
, as if seriously considering the question. “You are wearing the ugliest tie I have ever seen.”
Aasif didn’t even flinch. “About Ms. Ward?”
“I told you not to mention her name in my presence!”
“Yes.
” Aasif folded the packet under his arm and walked back to the door. “For the life of me, however, I still cannot understand why you invest so much money keeping tabs on her when she so willingly left you.”
“W
ith your intellect, I’m surprised you understand much of anything.”
“I have to say I’m proud of you
for keeping your word—well, part of it, anyway—and keeping your distance from her. You know I have respect for Ms. Ward, but once she obtained enough of your money, she would have been done with you, moved on to someone closer to her own age… It really is for the best.”
Kasper looked away from him and back at the rose garden.
Only his hideous reflection stared back.
***
It was only Wednesday, but already Emilia was tired. The half-sleepless nights were taking their toll and weighing her down despite her attempts to ignore them with bad coffee and caffeinated tea. She dropped her pen and looked up from her paperwork. She and her bosses were already making arrangements to relocate the dogs—a preliminary measure for the shutdown almost certain to come. Unfortunately, many of the local shelters were overcrowded, many of them struggling just as much as, if not worse than Home at Last.
She
had
managed to get Rocko into a shelter just outside of Philadelphia, and it was looking better and better that Pork Chop might get a home before the end of the week, but it wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
Emilia rubbed her eyes and went back to work. The window by the desk she shared with Claudette and Paula was clean but had torn up blinds from the puppies, and the lights above flickered on and off, motivated only by a good jabbing with the end of a broom handle. And while repairs were needed, new light bulbs were also just outside of the budget. More frequently than ever, Emilia relied on the fresh sunlight and spent cloudy days squinting at all the paperwork that hadn’t been filled out properly. It was a bit of a pain, but she didn’t complain. She liked working at the shelter, liked the dogs, and liked even more the opportunity to gain some respect in the animal-lover community. What had surprised her, however, was how much she liked the people she worked with. They were all dedicated to the animals and had almost the same kind of work ethic she did. Better yet, everyone seemed to like her, and it soothed her social awkwardness in the rest of her life considerably.
Emilia turned down the radio and tuned in to the sound of the dogs in the back instea
d. Claudette shushed them and simultaneously swore, the result, Emilia guessed, of her tripping over a squeaky toy. She laughed and turned the radio down even more to listen. It must have been one of those rare days when her colleague wasn’t wearing makeup or had forgotten to straighten her hair—otherwise she would have come in the front door for sure.
“Be quiet
, Pickles! We know you’re all talk!”
“All kisses
, too.” Emilia gave up on holding back her laugh and glanced over her shoulder to watch Claudette stumble her way into the lobby.
“I know
, right?” Claudette’s big sunglasses slid down her nose so that they almost fell off. “Too bad we can’t convince families who come in here of that.”
“You want some help?” Emilia got u
p and reached for one of the tote bags Claudette was struggling with. The dark-haired beauty handed one of them over without hesitation and mouthed her thanks.
Emilia could have guessed before she even
opened the bag that the tote consisted of food donations. If Claudette was good at anything, it was convincing local civilians and grocery stores to give up things like blankets, flea collars, toys, and shampoos. At least once a week, Claudette came in with bags of canned foods, and Emilia had to admit that it made a big difference.
Emilia smirked while she explored the contents of the bag.
“Got the good stuff this time, I see.”
“Yep
,” Claudette said, dropping the other tote bag on the cracked floor. “Half of it might be expired, but they don’t care.”
“I care, Claudette.
” Emilia did her best goofy face and pretended to wipe away a crocodile tear. “I care.”
Detangling her sunglasses from her dark hair, Claudette rolled her eyes and began going through the cans of food. Laug
hing, Emilia opened the pantry and joined her. Other than Andrew, Claudette was one of the few people she felt comfortable joking around with, making her transition to New York exceptionally easier. And she had to figure that, despite lacking social skills, having two friends (even if they were only considered a co-worker and neighbor) was twice the number of friends she had had growing up. Geez, maybe at the rate she was going, she might have all of four friends by the time she reached middle age.
“What time are you here until today?”
“It was supposed to be six, but I’m meeting Matt for dinner—”
“So you’re leaving me?”
“Have you seen my boyfriend?” Claudette scoffed. “If you looked up from your books once in a while,
maybe
you’d understand.”
Emi
lia grimaced, remembering all too well how obsessed she had been during those months when she and Kasper had been together. As much as she loved her job, she too would have very willingly left early to see him on any given day. She rubbed her thumbnail along the inside of one of the cans and shut the pantry door.
“I’m g
oing to take some of the older guys for a walk.” Digging under the papers on her desk, Emilia found a hair tie and started to pull her hair up. Suddenly, she was desperate for some time outside, a breath of fresh air away from her memories of Kasper.
“You sure?” Claudette asked. “It’
s sweltering out there. Maybe you should wait—”
High-pitched screams cut her
off.
They turned in
the direction of the sound, Claudette dropping an armful of tennis balls and Emilia immediately going into a defensive stance. The dogs responded by barking and howling. Yet before either of them could question the noise outright, the large face of their boss appeared from over from the top of the brass stairwell, beaming a bright smile.
“Christ!” Claudette breathed. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Or the dogs, for that matter?” Emilia mumbled.
The girls looked at each other and laughed before looking back up at the older woman. Elaine wasn’t a bad boss, but because of some of her medical issues
, she often wasn’t around or spent most of her office time arguing with her insurance company or doctors. Additionally, because of her diabetes and thyroid condition, she was overweight, struggling to walk without a cane, let alone with the dogs. Still, she was a considerate woman, kind to the animals, and lenient enough about work hours so that everyone liked her well enough. And it was all of these things that Emilia reminded herself of before scolding herself for focusing on the swaying of her employer’s multiple chins.
“You ladies won’t believe what happened!”
Claudette clapped her hands in mock joy. “We’re shutting down for good?”
Emilia fueled the fire and feigned as much giddiness.
“But first we’re
all
getting euthanized?”
Elaine
ignored them and their giggling while she began her limp down the stairs. She waved some papers in their direction as if they were insects to be shooed, and hobbled faster. About halfway down the steps, Emilia rushed to meet her, not failing to notice how the older woman’s smile had her unusually flushed, her eyes bright.
“Okay
, Elaine, we’re all ears.” Claudette sighed. “What’s up?”
Emilia led her to the large desk chair and listened to
it creak under her weight. Nevertheless, it seemed Elaine would refuse to sit still.
“We just received a donation!”
“No kidding.” Claudette threw a squeaky toy at Emilia and laughed as it hit her in the head.
“No! No! No!” Elaine pounded
her cane on the ground for each time she groaned the word, and the dogs responded in kind. Emilia picked up the toy and chucked it at Claudette playfully. “Not that kind of donation, a money donation!”
Emilia startled, failing to dodge the toy that Claudette threw back.
“Y-you mean like the kind that will keep the lights on?”
Claudette began using another
squeaky toy like a stress ball. “And money in our paychecks?”
Elaine nodded eagerly.
“Holy crap!” Claudette started jumping up and down, but Emilia held out her hand to stop her.
“Let’s not get too excited here. Paula and I just did the books last Friday
, and this place is barely floating as it is. Even with a decent donation—”
“That’s what I’m talking about
, Em!” Elaine pulled on the edge of Emilia’s tank top like a little child, and the image made Emilia almost smile. It was nearly impossible to think of Elaine as ever being “little,” and with her silver hair it was equally impossible to believe she had ever been a child.
“This isn’t just a ‘decent’ donation. This is a lot more than that!”
If Claudette hadn’t been interested before, she was now, and she abandoned her post at the counter to join the women at the desk. With her eyes just as wide as Elaine’s, she asked, “A lot? How much is a lot?”