“Claire, this is impressive, but where’s Sandee? Wasn’t she supposed to help?” Andie asked, and her eyes grew wide. “Oh no, what have you done with her?”
Claire laughed at the joke. “She was supposed to be here, but she never showed up. I should have known better.”
“That’s outrageous,” Maxi said. “You can’t do this all by yourself!”
“Actually, Marie was supposed to come by later, but she’s tied up. She’s coordinating relief for animal shelters in New York City that were affected by the floods,” Claire explained, frustration and worry mixing in her voice. “She’s stretched thin, and I don’t want to add to her stress. But yes, Sandee not showing up didn’t help.”
“Wow, who skips out on a charity thing? That’s really low,” Jane said.
Claire paused for a moment, taking in the love and support she felt from her friends. It made her reflect on the tentative plans she’d had concerning Sandee. “You know, I was actually contemplating calling a truce with Sandee over the whole Beach Bones name debacle,” she confessed.
“You were?” Maxi asked, a little surprised.
“Yeah. Tammi almost had me convinced that maybe I was wrong about Sandee. That perhaps she had good intentions and it was all a big misunderstanding,” Claire explained, glancing at the assorted Beach Bones dog treats neatly arranged on a table.
“But her not showing up today...” Maxi trailed off, letting Claire finish the thought.
Claire shook her head, her expression resolute. “Exactly. It’s like she’s shown her true colors. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but not now. There’s no way I’m letting her use the Beach Bones name.”
“You go!” Andie turned around to look at the people who had gathered to look at the various items for sale. “Now, let’s roll up our sleeves and help these people out.”
Maxi stuffed her tote bag under the table. “What can we do to help?”
“Yeah, consider us your unofficial volunteers for the day,” Jane added.
Claire looked at her friends, and her tension seemed to melt away. “You guys are amazing. Thank you so much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rain hammered against Sandee’s oversized raincoat as she tried to find a dry spot under the makeshift tarp. The chilling droplets trickled down her face, mingling with strands of hair glued to her forehead. Daniel, the rescue coordinator, looked over at her.
“We were severely short-staffed today. Your help made a world of difference. We saved more pets because of you,” he said, his voice tinged with genuine appreciation. “Everything okay?” he asked, sensing her distant gaze.
Smiling, Sandee nodded. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
As Daniel turned his attention back to the rescued animals, Sandee’s thoughts drifted to Lobster Bay. She felt a pang of guilt tighten in her chest. She’d promised to be at the charity tent for Prelude, and she felt guilty that she’d had to miss it. Marie had assured her over the phone that whoever was handling the tent could manage on their own, and her time was more needed here in the chaos of flood-hit New York City, yet the feeling of having let people down back in Lobster Bay was hard to shake.
Sandee and Daniel moved through the maze of makeshift kennels, both of them drenched but focused. Volunteers were milling about, each attending to an array of rescued animals—cats, dogs, even a couple of birds. In a large, waterlogged tent, several wash stations had been set up for cleaning the animals. Muffled barks and meows filled the air, a chaotic symphony of need.
Daniel looked around, clutching a clipboard. “We’ve got another twenty incoming. Foster families are maxed out.”
Sandee paused, her eyes scanning the wet, shivering forms. “How many do we still need to place?”
“Eight, maybe more,” Daniel said, flipping through his papers. His eyes met Sandee’s, both understanding the gravity of their task.
Wordlessly, they divided their efforts. Sandee moved toward the wash stations where several dogs were tethered, waiting to be cleaned. She picked up a hose and started with a scruffy terrier mix, working the soap through its matted fur. Beside her, Daniel was doing the same with a trembling poodle. Other volunteers joined them, creating a sort of assembly line of washing, rinsing, and drying.
Once the dogs were clean, Sandee moved to the next station, where volunteers were checking each animal for identification tags or chips. “Any luck?” she asked a woman who was holding a scanner.
“A few. Maybe we can reunite them with their owners,” the woman replied, hope lifting her voice.
Two hours passed like this, the work monotonous but deeply urgent. Sandee’s muscles ached, her focus narrowed to the immediate needs before her. It was a type of tunnel vision that she welcomed, a state in which she could feel herself making a tangible difference, one animal at a time.
Finally, Daniel approached her. “We’re running out of room, Sandee. I don’t know where we’re going to put the next batch.”
“We need more transport out of the city,” Sandee replied, already considering her options.
“I know, I know.” Daniel sighed. “We’ve already sent some with Janine. Can you take any?”
