“She could probably run payroll for you, if you teach her the login,” Alyssa deadpanned.
Gemma grinned. “If you see me throwing a tennis ball in the main office, just mind your own business.”
Alyssa liked her instantly. She left Gemma with a few more tips and drifted down the row of open offices.
The rest of the morning blurred by in a series of small crises: a pug with a sensitive stomach made an unholy mess in the elevator; a pair of interns accidentally let a shih tzu into the building’s gym; one of Alyssa’s own staffers got lost trying to find the toilets and ended up in a board meeting with a terrier. Alyssa triaged, reassigned, wiped, consoled. By eleven, she’d managed to catch her breath.
Midday approached, and a mass migration headed toward the cafeteria. The dogs followed, some out of hunger, some out of sheer loyalty. Alyssa took a seat by the window, her plate loaded with the kind of food she only ate at conferences. She toyed with the fries and looked out over the city.
Joy slid into the seat beside her. “So far, so good?”
Alyssa nodded. “No emergencies yet. I might actually get to eat lunch for once.”
Joy smiled, then hesitated. “Can I ask something? Not about the program, just…I noticed your address on the forms is the same as the sanctuary’s. Do you actually live on site?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Cheapest rent in the county.”
“Doesn’t that get—well, lonely?”
“Sometimes,” Alyssa admitted. “But I’m not really alone. Twenty-six dogs, a team of volunteers, and Lil showing up uninvited at least three times a week with takeaway.”
Joy laughed. “Still. No partner? No…human companionship?”
The question came up regularly, usually from well-meaning relatives at Christmas. “I don’t really do relationships. The sanctuary takes all my time. Wouldn’t be fair to someone.”
“Or maybe you haven’t met the right someone,” Joy said gently.
“Maybe,” Alyssa said, unconvinced.
Joy sensed the door closing and changed the subject. Alyssa was grateful.
“The thing is the living in town and commuting forty minutes every day, which would make me homicidal, isn’t really an option.” Alyssa supplied.
Joy nodded, satisfied. “I get it. My husband’s a long-haul pilot. I got used to being on my own. That’s probably why I like having all this—” she gestured at the room “—to manage. Better than an empty house.”
The two women sat in companionable silence. Alyssa watched a schnauzer curl up at a finance manager’s feet, the manager oblivious as she typed one-handed on her laptop. A few years ago, Alyssa would have considered this kind of partnership a sell out—a way for corporations to look charitable while doing very little. But it was clear, even in the first day, that thedogs were making a difference. A small one, but a difference nonetheless.
She finished her lunch and made another round of the offices. The dogs were happier than she’d expected. The humans, too.
By the time the clock hit four, the novelty had faded just enough that the building felt normal again. Alyssa gathered her team in the conference room for a debrief.
“Anyone lose a dog?” she joked as the group sat down.
“Only my dignity,” said Lil, who looked slightly frazzled but pleased. “You see that spaniel in IT? Ate a whole box of jellybeans.”
“He’s going to have rainbow vomit tomorrow,” another staffer chimed in.
They ran through the feedback, most of which was positive. The main complaint was the lack of outdoor play space, but Joy had already solved that by negotiating with the company next door to use their empty lot in the afternoons.
“Alright,” Alyssa said at last. “Everyone did good today. Let’s try not to burn the place down tomorrow.”
They broke up, most of the team heading home, a few staying to prep the dogs for the night. Alyssa slipped out to the lobby to catch the end of the workday exodus. The lobby was a mess—paw prints, abandoned tennis balls, a chewed-up umbrella—but it felt like victory.
She grabbed her bag and made her way outside, passing the security desk. Colin waved.
“See you tomorrow, dog lady,” he called.
Alyssa grinned. She liked the sound of that.
