If she’d decided to go into hiding, to let everyone think she’d died, she’d have left these people behind. And she couldn’t imagine life without them.
“I want to get this apartment organized.” Sophie focused on her soup. “Once I’m not looking at the wreckage, maybe I can deal with the way someone decided to destroy my life. They didn’t succeed. And, actually, it was a kick in the pants I needed. I’ll make some big changes.”
“Yeah?” Lyn smiled, approving. “Are the big changes the kind you’re ready to talk about?”
“I’m not going to look for another full-time job as an accountant.” Sophie pressed her lips together. “I’m more than capable of establishing a small individual business and doing accounting locally. That’ll provide me with a solid income to live here and save money up for what I really want to do.”
Elisa gasped. “The bed-and-breakfast.”
Sophie nodded.
Elisa squealed.
Lyn put her spoon down and gave her a slow clap. “Excellent. So is this a six-month plan or a one-year plan?”
Sophie considered. “It’s more of a three-year plan, possibly five. But I think it could be a three-year if I’m really careful with my budgeting and very smart about the property I buy.”
She’d dreamt about it for as long as she could remember. She’d researched the establishment and management. She’d visited more B&Bs than she could count. She knew the business.
“I’m not sure where yet, but I’m going to make it happen.” She smiled at her friends. “Until then, this is going to be my home office, and I’m going to go independent.”
Lyn gathered up empty plates. “Well, then, we’ll get started with the cleaning. We can snack again in a few hours.”
“Let’s get to it.” Sophie stood and limped toward the kitchen. She had a plan. Her life was going to be happier, especially because she was going to follow her dreams and really do things because they were her aspirations and not what somebody else thought they should be. These were good things, and she was looking forward to having her friends nearby as she built her life for herself.
Mostly.
Tesseract emerged from the bedroom and decided to climb onto Sophie’s medical boot for a ride.
“Sophie.” Lyn’s voice was calm. “There’s a feline attached to your leg.”
“This is Tesseract. I adopted her.”
Elisa giggled. “And you named a cat that why?”
“It was a random line of thought.”
*
His office needed cleaning. Forte considered getting up to go get a broom and some supplies, but that would require climbing over Haydn, currently parked on the floor by his feet and not actually in the dog bed thoughtfully provided. The vet in Virginia had released Haydn over to the care of the vet they kept on retainer at Hope’s Crossing Kennels, so Haydn was being monitored carefully right there on premises.
“You know, that bed is there for you. I don’t plan to take a nap in it come mid-afternoon.” Though now that he’d thought of it, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.
He was exhausted. Haydn was wiped out. Sophie was…not here. And if texts from Lyn and Elisa were to be believed, all three women were doing some massive cleaning of their own. He had no idea where Sophie was finding the energy.
Or maybe his initiative had fizzled out once he’d gotten home. Instead of catching up on the status of the kennels, he’d been in his office, brooding.
His phone rang and he came to his feet. “Forte.”
“It’s Beckhorn.” The voice on the other end was brisk with a hint of a drawl. “Got news. First part is quick. It’s an update on the adoption process for Haydn. Figured I’d call you direct instead of e-mail.”
“Ah.” Forte did step over Haydn as he decided he wanted to be out from behind his desk for this news.
“Family of Haydn’s former handler doesn’t have the means to provide a stable environment for him. No one has the time to spend on his physical therapy or even maintaining his training.” Beckhorn paused. “If he were older, calmer, it might be a reasonable fit, but Haydn is still active and ready to work.”
And had proved he could. Forte didn’t argue the point, though. He’d given Beckhorn a report on Haydn’s activities, including the altercation last night. He’d had to. Technically, Haydn didn’t belong to Hope’s Crossing Kennels. He belonged to the US government, and Beckhorn was responsible. Getting Haydn shot hadn’t been something he could hide and still expect a relationship with the Air Force dog training program at Lackland.
“Not going to lie. No one is going to praise your work with Haydn, considering recent events. But your history with dogs is to be considered. And these were extenuating circumstances.” Beckhorn cleared his throat. “The situation being what it was, an exemplary working relationship was demonstrated despite the injury sustained by Haydn. Final decision is to allow you to adopt him, on the condition of regular health checks and reports on his well-being.”