She liked the rhythm of doing laundry. The comforting routine of folding, sorting, and talking about nothing that mattered. The cottony scent of the detergent and dryer sheets.
Biscuit stayed at her side, shadowing her every move.
A door in the distance opened. Footsteps followed.
Naomi paused. “That should be our new guest. You can come with me to meet her if you’d like.”
Millie’s chest tightened. A new arrival meant more change.
Lately, she didn’t love change. But she especially didn’t like the idea of more change right now, just as she was getting settled here.
Still, the shelter was doing important work. Other women needed help also, and she would never want them to be turned away, even if it meant her own comfort was disrupted.
She started the washer, then followed Naomi into the hall.
Max stood inside the kitchen with a woman. She was slim, early thirties maybe, with long, carefully styled dark hair. Her coat was fitted and clean, and her boots practical but new enough to still look stiff.
She held a tiny dog in her arms—white and tan with long ears. The canine wore a pink collar with a tiny bow clipped near the buckle.
Naomi stepped forward. “Welcome to Refuge Cove. I’m Naomi.”
“I’m Millie.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to her and lingered a beat too long before she nodded. “I’m Valentina. This is Pippa.”
Valentina shifted the animal in her arms, and the dog gave a small, high-pitched whine as if she didn’t approve being jostled.
“She’s cute,” Millie murmured.
Pippa’s eyes darted, then fixed on something behind Millie.
A low sound rumbled at her calves.
Millie turned just as Biscuit stepped forward, body stiff and ears angled back. He wasn’t growling, but every line of him said he didn’t like their new guests.
“Hey.” Millie reached down and rubbed the top of his head to reassure him. “Easy.”
Biscuit’s gaze stayed locked on the smaller dog, tail rigid.
Pippa let out a sharp bark that echoed off the walls, thin and shrill. Biscuit lunged a half-step before Millie tightened her grip on his collar.
“I’m so sorry.” Millie pulled Biscuit closer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“It’s fine,” Valentina said. “He’s protective of you. That’s not a bad thing.”
Biscuit’s chest vibrated once more, then he settled, though his eyes never left the dog.
As they stood there, Millie got a better look at the woman and paused.
Why did something about her seem familiar? It didn’t make sense.
She didn’t ever remember seeing this woman before. So why did she feel as if she had? Was it just her mind playing tricks on her?
She wished she knew.
The sun was just cresting the ridge when Caleb climbed the ladder propped against the side of the barn. His breath misted in the cold morning air as he reached for the security camera mounted near the roofline.
The thing had been glitching for two days now—losing signal, cutting out at random intervals. He’d meant to fix it sooner, but with everything else going on it had slipped down on his priority list.
