Matt rolled a ball toward one of the pups. “That’s the direction I was leaning. But it would require specializedenclosures, ongoing care, and educational programming. We don’t have enough money to make it happen.”
Lynda shrugged. “They’re all part of what could be a reimagined service,” she suggested. “I’ve been thinking about the shelter’s future. There’s a huge need for a wildlife rehabilitation center in this region. With my skills, I could help fill that gap.”
Matt nodded. “Carol’s been saying the same thing for years. The nearest wildlife center is in Missoula, and they’re always at capacity.”
“That’s what I heard from the vets there,” Lynda said, her enthusiasm growing as she shared her ideas with Matt. “With the right equipment and some dedicated space, we could handle everything from orphaned bear cubs to injured eagles. I have savings, and once the sale of my practice is finalized, I’ll have more than enough to fund the initial setup of a wildlife rehabilitation center.”
“You’re thinking of a partnership with the shelter?” Matt asked.
Lynda nodded. “I’d work full-time, overseeing both the domestic animal care and the wildlife rehabilitation. I’ve already discussed it with the board as a possibility, but now that I’m staying here permanently, we can make concrete plans.”
As they walked toward the reception area, Lynda continued, “I also have some ideas about fundraising. The shelter’s always struggling for food, medicine, and fixing any building problems.”
“It’s been an ongoing issue for years,” Matt agreed. “The annual fundraiser helps, but it’s never quite enough.” He opened the door to the reception area. “Money’s tight everywhere. I’m not sure what we can do to encourage more people to support the shelter.
“What if we rebranded?” Lynda suggested. “We could call the shelter something like ‘Paws of Hope’. It’s a name that reflects what we do in Sapphire Bay. We give hope to animals that might otherwise be lost.”
Matt stopped walking. “That’s a great idea. A new name, a new focus on wildlife rehabilitation, and a fresh approach to fundraising. We could transform this place.”
Lynda nodded. “I’ve done some research on grants available for wildlife education and rehabilitation. If we incorporated educational programs for local schools, we could qualify for additional funding. And if we document the wildlife rehabilitation cases, we could create a social media presence that might attract donors from beyond Sapphire Bay.”
“And the wolfdog puppies could be our first educational ambassadors,” Matt added with a smile. “We could build a proper outdoor enclosure with enrichment activities, teach visitors about wolf conservation and the problems with breeding wolfdogs as pets.”
Carol put down the brochures she’d been folding and smiled. “I heard what you said about ‘Paws of Hope’ and nearly fell out of my chair. That’s the kind of change we need. And keeping the puppies as educational ambassadors is brilliant!”
For the next twenty minutes, the three of them discussed possibilities—the empty storage building that could be converted for wildlife rehabilitation, potential grants, and the logistics of Lynda joining the shelter full-time. They brainstormed ideas for a wolfdog habitat that would give the puppies the space they’d need as they matured, while allowing visitors to observe and learn.
“We need to present this to the board next week,” Carol said finally, her eyes bright with excitement. “They’ve been looking for ways to expand our services without increasing our budget. This could be the perfect solution.”
“I’ll prepare a proper proposal,” Lynda promised. “With projected costs, potential funding sources, everything they’ll need to make an informed decision.”
“And I’ll help with whatever you need me to do,” Matt added.
Carol looked at Lynda and Matt. “Well, I think this calls for a celebration. But since I have a mountain of paperwork to finish before closing, I’ll leave that to you two.” She gave Matt a meaningful look. “Didn’t you mention some Labrador puppies that you wanted Lynda to see at your clinic?”
“You’re not being very subtle,” Matt told her.
Carol grinned. “Life’s too short to be subtle. In my humble opinion, you’re perfect for each other. But right now, the Labrador puppies need your expertise.”
Matt sighed. “Carol’s right. I’d appreciate a second opinion. The puppies were abandoned near the highway about four weeks ago. One of them is a lot sicker than the others, and I don’t know why. But if you’re too tired from your flight, I understand.”
“I’m never too tired for puppies,” Lynda replied with a smile. “I just need my bag from the car.”
Outside in the parking lot, the late afternoon sun sent a golden glow over the mountains surrounding Sapphire Bay. As they walked to their vehicles, Matt hesitated beside Lynda’s car.
“I meant what I said inside,” he told her, his voice quiet but firm. “About missing you. About being glad you’re staying here.”
Lynda looked at the man who’d become important to her in such a short time. The man who’d stayed up all night to save orphaned puppies, who’d carved wooden animals with such care, and who’d waited patiently for her to find her own path back to Sapphire Bay.
“I’m glad too,” she told him. “This feels right, Matt. All of it—the shelter, the puppies, Sapphire Bay.” She took a deep breath, then added more softly, “And you.”
Matt’s expression softened, and he reached for her hand, his fingers warm and steady around hers. For a moment, they stood quietly together, the distant puppy yips making the moment even more special.
Then Matt stepped closer. His blue eyes never left hers as he raised his free hand to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Lynda,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss her.
His lips were gentle yet certain, a promise of all that might come. When they finally drew apart, Lynda sighed. “I could become addicted to your kisses.”
Matt smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
