Rescue Me (a quirky romance novel about secrets, forgiveness and falling in love) (3 page)

"You've reconsidered?" Hailey repeated, sure she'd heard wrong, and afraid to breathe and miss the answer to come. Was this Mrs. Barrington's way of punishing her for rescheduling? She hadn't even delivered the first sentence of her speech.

"Yes."

Hailey squirmed. The chair's leather seat creaked as she moved. Did Mrs. Barrington, wife of movie mogul and zillionaire, Marcus Barrington, know what she was doing? Did she know with two words she was about to dash Hailey's dream--the dream of a number of people? Darn it! Surely one hundred thousand dollars was nothing to this woman. She probably spent more on shoes.

Hailey stood and offered her hand, a fake smile plastered to her face. "I see. Well, thank you for your time--"

"No. Please, sit. I still want to donate. I've just reconsidered the amount we discussed."

She eased back into the chair. "All right."

Mrs. Barrington opened a leather planner and pulled out a business check, scrutinizing it with sharp eyes before handing it to Hailey. "I think you will be pleased with this figure."

Hailey reached across the desk, glancing down at the tan paper with black writing. A number two, followed by two zero's, a comma, three, four, five zeros…! Two hundred thousand? Did she have the wrong check? She looked up.

"So I take it, that figure is acceptable?" the woman asked with a smile.

"It's...oh, God...it's...thank you," she said, slipping the document into her briefcase and standing. Best to get out of there before Mrs. Barrington changed her mind, again. Offering her hand to the woman, Hailey said, "Thank you for your generous donation. You won't be disappointed."

Mrs. Barrington shook her hand. "Just make sure I get a receipt. The IRS is on me like a pack of wolves."

"Not a problem." Dizzy, giddy, sick to her stomach, Hailey opened the door. With legs carrying her as fast as possible, she returned to the relative safety of her car before she took another breath.

Two hundred thousand dollars! It was really going to happen. Her dream would come true. Her eyes burned. She laughed to keep from crying.

Amy, who'd waited patiently for her to speak, eyed her. "I take it your meeting went well?"

Hailey couldn't help grinning. It was finally going to pay off, the sacrifice, the sorrow, all of it. If she were a religious person, she'd drop to her knees and offer up a prayer--in the middle of Wilshire Boulevard.

After setting her briefcase on the floor, she gave Jensen, who lay like a diva--all stretched out on the back seat--a pat on the head. Then she started the car and turned onto the road. Would she return to Paws and Claws before the staff left for the night? Or more specifically, before her closest friends left for the night?

The two men expected to see a check for one hundred thousand dollars. They'd think she sold her soul for this!

"I'm not saying a word until we get back," she said.

Amy sighed, and reached back to stroke Jensen's head. "I figured you’d do that to me. It's a long ride, though. I don't think you can keep it a secret for that long."

Determined to do just that, she drove down the Four-oh-five, cracking the windows to enjoy the breeze as she headed south. Traffic ground to a halt several times, thanks to morning rush hour, before she reached the Santa Monica freeway. Each time the car slowed to a crawl, she cursed impatiently. Living in a small town had its benefits. Light traffic was one she'd taken for granted, until now.

No music, no book on tape. She wanted only her thoughts, the soft whimpers of the puppies, and the sound of the wind rustling through the car to keep her company. Thankfully, Amy fell asleep as soon as they reached the end of the entrance ramp.

It took ten exhausting hours to make the drive. In that time she silently rehearsed at least a dozen different speeches, each lamer than the last. Finally, she settled upon the simple thrust-the-check-at-'em-and-let-'em-gawk routine. No words would suffice. As she pulled into the Paws and Claws parking lot, her pulse quickened. This was going to be fun!

She donned a sober expression, or at least she hoped it was reasonably sober. After collecting the carrier of puppies from the backseat and helping Amy coax Jensen out, she recovered her briefcase and walked slowly into the aged building.

When she stepped inside, Andrew, her assistant manager, was the first to see her.

"Hey-ya, Hailey. How'd it go? Did you save a whale?" he asked, standing behind the counter. His tanned face shone with curiosity. Full brows lifted high above deep-set brown eyes as he ran his hand over his mahogany, spiked hair, tipped with gold. He looked down at the computer screen, punched the Enter key and stepped to the end of the counter. "What's wrong? You look like someone stole your puppy. You didn't call. It's not like you to forget to call. And what happened to your arm?"

"Aren’t you a little mother hen? Where's Pete?" she asked, scanning the lobby. The cozy room, with its hardwood floors and deep blue paint on the walls, was empty except for Andrew.

"Pete's out back, checking on Jessie. I think the Dobe's ready to pop." He took the carrier from her. "What's in the crate?"

"You said that she was ‘ready to pop’ two weeks ago." Hailey walked to the back of the room, talking over her shoulder, "Why don't you come with me? And find Amy. She's disappeared already. I only want to say this once."

"Say what once?" Andrew asked, looking goofy, a common expression for him. "What happened? Give me a clue." He followed her to the kennel. The dogs in the runs lining each side of the hallway yapped loudly, a cacophony of howls, yips and barks drowning out his persistent questioning.

"I'm not saying a word until we find Peter and Amy," she repeated as they entered an examination room.

Andrew set the container of puppies on the table and opened it.

"I'm found," Pete said, entering. "Now what's all the noise about?" He studied Hailey with cool gray eyes, the creases at the corners even deeper than normal.

She couldn't help smiling. Who could remain sedate under Pete's scrutiny?

Amy followed him, taking a puppy from Andrew and nuzzling it.

"Okay. Now that I have all of you in one place, I have some news." She paused for dramatic effect, letting them squirm a few seconds before continuing, "As you know, I met with Tonya Barrington today."

"Yeah, and...?" Andrew asked.

She tried to look disappointed. "She changed her mind."

Pete's eyes narrowed slightly. "She did?"

"Damn!" Andrew interjected. "I knew we shouldn't have counted on her. That woman's husband is a tightwad. Everyone knows he doesn’t do charity. What made you think--"

"Why were you so happy then?" Amy asked, looking bewildered. "You're lying."

Knowing she couldn't keep up the ruse, especially with Amy shaking her head, Hailey slipped a hand into her briefcase, withdrew the check, and handed it to Pete.

His gaze dropped to read the figure on it, then raised to meet hers. A broad smile spread over his face, touching each feature with new energy and life. "Hailey, this is fantastic."

She returned his smile, thinking she wouldn't have wanted to share this moment with anyone but Pete Logan. Heck, if he were younger--at least in his forties instead of sixties--and if she hadn't sworn off marriage, he would have been her first choice in a husband.

"What's fantastic? For God's sake, what's going on?" Andrew asked, swiping the check from Pete's hand. "Two hundred thousand dollars? Two freakin' hundred thousand dollars! Damn! What did you do, Hailey, promise her your firstborn?"

"Nope--" Hailey began, but stopped when she heard the phone ring in the lobby. "I'll tell you later. Better get that call first." She dashed to the lobby and reached the phone on the last ring before the answering machine picked up. "Paws and Claws, how may I help you?"

"Ms. Hailey Jensen, please," a deep voice said on the other end.

"Speaking." She slumped onto a stool at the counter and gathered a pencil and piece of paper in case she needed to take directions or an address.

"My name is Rainer Hartmann. I need to speak to you--in person."

"Is this an animal cruelty report?" she asked, confused. Complaints were always taken over the phone.

"No. This is about your sister, Heidi."

Now, she was on edge. "Is something wrong?"

"I'd rather not talk about it on the phone."

"What was your name again?"

"Rainer Hartmann."

She wrote it down, reading it over and over. "I don't know a Rainer Hartmann. As far as I know, my sister doesn't, either."

"I'm contacting you on behalf of your sister, Heidi, but I don't think discussing the details over the phone is a good idea. I'm in town for business. Would you feel safest meeting me somewhere in public? Tonight or tomorrow is fine. You name the time and place, but sooner is better."

She wondered why he was evading the specific reason for their meeting. "Can I call you back in about..." She glanced at her watch. "...five minutes?"

"Sure. I'm at the Airport Travelodge, room two twenty-three."

She scribbled the room number under his name. "Got it. I'll call you right back." Hailey slammed the phone on its cradle, answering another of Andrew's curious stares with a smile. "Did you do that? Is it a joke?" She hoped, beyond reason, this was Andrew's idea of a sick prank.

"What?" His genuinely bewildered expression was enough to convince her he knew nothing. He had this way of smiling when he was guilty. "Who was it?"

"I don't know. Some guy named Hartmann." What kind of business would a man from Detroit have in a small town like Sequoia Valley? And what did he want with her?

She fingered the scrap paper she'd written the man's name and room number on, then dialed the hotel's main switchboard. When a customer service agent took her call, confirming there was a Mr. Hartmann registered at the hotel, she thanked the agent and hung up.

Next, she phoned her sister's apartment, the first time in years. She got the answering machine.

What was Heidi up to now?

She gnawed on the pencil eraser and tried to figure it out, but drew a complete blank. After the long night at the emergency room, and the drive back today, her brain was fried. Deciding she needed to know more, she dialed the hotel again and asked for his room.

"Hello?" His deep radio-personality voice carried over the phone lines as he answered, eliciting an unwelcome rush of curiosity.

"Mr. Hartmann, it's Hailey Jensen again."

"Thank you for calling."

"Listen," she started, not sure what she should say next. "Why don't you forget about the theatrics and simply tell me what this is all about? Because..." Oh boy, she was on a roll. She never talked to people like this. "...to be honest, I'm exhausted and cranky... and not in the mood for games."

Silence.

"Okay," he said. "Heidi is ill."

The air left the room. "Ill? With what?"

"A.L.L. Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia."

Hailey's heart stopped. "Leukemia? How bad is it? And why are you telling me this?"

"I'd rather discuss the rest in person. Will you meet with me?"

She nodded, then forgot he couldn't see her. "Yes."

"When?"

"When?" she repeated, lost in a fog that had fallen from nowhere. She stared at nothing and waited for the mind-clogging mist to lift.

"When will you meet me?" he repeated.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight is fine. Where?"

She couldn't think. "Your hotel restaurant, I guess."

"Very well. What time?"

She tried to read the dials on her watch but couldn't. Nothing she looked at registered in her brain. "Um. Give me an hour to do a few things here, and then I'll head over. So, that would be in maybe an hour and a half?"

"Perfect. I'll see you in an hour and a half, say, eight?"

"That's fine. Goodbye." She hung up the phone, shoved the paper with his name and hotel room into her jacket pocket and went to her office to change into coveralls.

She needed to get to work, if only for a few minutes. She'd been gone for two days, leaving the shelter shorthanded, and there was plenty that needed to be done.

Naturally, because fate had a nasty sense of humor, Jesse went into labor. She helped Pete with the first puppy, then glanced at her wristwatch and ran to her car. Seven-forty. I'll never make it in time.

Recalling the brief phone conversation, she slipped into the driver's seat and started the car. The lazy late evening sun flashed in her rearview mirror as she pulled away from Paws and Claws and drove toward the freeway entrance ramp.

She opened the window a crack to let a breath of cool air seep into the car's warm interior and punched the radio button. Instantly, the car filled with Beethoven's Symphony in A, her favorite. The music's tone, dark and tempestuous, suited her mood as she merged onto the westbound lane toward the airport. The music and the river of traffic roaring around her swept her closer to the meeting.

Of course, because she was in a hurry, traffic ground to a red-lighted halt ahead, and she impatiently braked, glancing longingly at the service drive to her right. If only she'd taken the last exit instead of ignoring the digital sign a half-mile back. It had said there was an accident up ahead, but nine times out of ten those signs were wrong, especially out here, miles outside a major city. Darn!