Heartbreaker(34)

“That’s right, you’ve been busy. I thought I saw that Finn McKay back in town.”

Edith’s eyes are sharp. She doesn’t miss a thing.

“He’s… around,” I say vaguely.

“Mmmmhmmm.”

I flush. Edith was here the first time around, when we were only just teenagers. She walked in on Finn and me once, necking in the corner of the shed, but never said a word – not then, or months later, when she found me crying over newborn puppies and old dogs alike, pretending it was just allergies that had me weeping round the clock.

Now she assesses me with that sharp stare. “Is he back for good, or just passing through?”

“I don’t know.” I try to sound casual. “Passing through, I think.”

Edith makes a noise. “He’s got some nerve, after all this time.”

Even though I’ve thought the very same thing, I find myself feeling oddly defensive. “He’s really made something of himself. Besides, you know what it was like for him. He didn’t have a reason to stay.”

“I can think of one.”

She’s right, but Finn already made that choice, and it turns out I wasn’t reason enough. So why would he stick around this time, when he has a brilliant, successful life waiting for him?

What is he doing here at all?

I turn to the puppies for consolation. After a moment, I realize that Edith isn’t talking. Usually, she’s got a million stories to tell, everything from a friend she ran into in town, or some documentary she saw on TV the other night. But today, she’s just rocking in silence, looking distracted as she gazes out over the property.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, not wanting to intrude.

Edith sighs. “Just the usual, that’s all. A place like this, it doesn’t run itself. And these days, I’m not getting any younger…” She trails off, but I’m worried now. I put the puppies aside and go join her, perching on the swing.

“I can work more hours, if you need,” I offer. “Stop by early mornings to help with the feed, maybe.”

She shakes her head. “Oh no, that’s not necessary. The thing is.” She pauses. “Well, you know I don’t own this land?”

I nod, but I’ve never thought about it. “It belonged to an old business acquaintance of mine,” she continues. “Back when I wore a pants suit and worked in a law firm, would you believe.”

“I still can’t picture it,” I smile. For all her tales of climbing the corporate ladder, forty years ago, I can’t imagine Edith out of her muddy boots and trailing scarves.

“I was quite the trial lawyer,” she says, with a glimmer of steel in her expression. “They called me a barracuda. Meant it as an insult, I guess, but that didn’t make a difference when the verdict came in.” She smiles, remembering old victories, then shakes her head. “The land. Anyway, when he heard what I was doing out here, he offered to rent it to me cheap, for the animals. Well, he passed on a while back, and now his children have got it in their heads that this place might be worth something after all.”

“Here?” My disbelief is clear. Edith laughs. “No,” I say quickly, “I just mean… It’s great for the shelter, but it’s so far out.”

I look around. The buildings themselves are old and run down, functional, but nothing pretty. There’s a main ranch house that Edith lives in, with sheds and outbuildings sprawling to the fenced-in paddock, and fields beyond.

“It’s the land value,” Edith says, sounding resigned. “They say they’ve talked to some developers, and it’s worth more than they thought now.”

“But they can’t do that.”

“They can do anything they want,” Edith shrugs. “They want to raise our rents, at the very least, and keep us month-to-month in case they decide to sell.”

“What’ll happen to the dogs?” I ask, feeling stricken. “They love it here, and we wouldn’t be able to find homes for them, not on that kind of notice.”

“We don’t need to think about that just yet.” Edith pats my hand. “They’re still talking to lawyers and the realtor. I expect it’ll take a little while to iron everything out.”

But still, I think of the puppies, and Chester, and all the two dozen other animals we have scampering around at any one time. Sure, we try to adopt as many out as possible, but there are always more animals in need of a safe, warm place to stay. As soon as one batch of cute puppies is sent off to a loving home, there’s another litter abandoned: dangerously underweight, or injured, and needing our care and feeding. And then there are the older dogs, the ones nobody would take in. They spend their days lazing on the porch, or ambling around the fields. Without this place, they’d have nowhere to go, nobody to love them, or to make sure they’re still healthy and have something to eat.

My heart clenches just thinking about it, and Edith must see my distress because she tuts. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She pats me again. “It’ll work itself out. It always does.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I ask, still anxious.

“You just focus on your own affairs,” Edith says firmly. “Speaking of which, don’t you have a party to get to?”