Molly comes out, but without any dogs. “Brenda wants to see you,” she says.
“For what?”
“Forwhat? To thank you for the donation!”
“Oh. She already said thanks, but you can tell her it was nothing. My pleasure.”
Molly skips over, loops her arm around mine and tugs. “Come on. I want to see you get credit for your good deed.”
“No, honestly, that isn’t necessary.”
But she pulls at me, drawing me closer to the building. Before I can protest, I’m already past the threshold.
Brenda puts down the cat she’s been holding and bustles over, arms spread wide, then envelops me in a hug. The woman knows how to squeeze. “Nicholas! Once again, thank you so much! You have no idea what the funding means for Furry Haven!”
“It was nothing. Glad I was able to help. If you want, I’ll see about setting something more regular up, so the shelter doesn’t have to worry about steady cash flow.” I manage to swallow a sneeze.
“My goodness.” Her green eyes go wide, and she folds her hands over her chest. “That’s a great idea! And so generous!”
Molly beams. My nose feels weird, but I can ignore that to see her happy.
“Yeah, I can have my assistant Cody get in touch.” I sneeze. The skin around my eyes begins to feel tingly.
“Oh yes, he was very polite when we spoke on the phone. Such a nice man.”
“Uh-huh.” I sneeze again.
“Are you okay?” Molly asks.
“I’m—achoo!—fine.” Another sneeze. Then another.
As Molly and Brenda watch, I let out six sneezes in a row, then sniffle and rub my eyes.
“Are you…allergic to something here?” Molly says, looking around uncertainly.
“I—” I sneeze.
“There’s a CVS around the corner,” Brenda says. “They should have something.”
“No.” I wave away her suggestion. “That won’t work.”
I need to get out of here.
I step outside. It doesn’t help much. My body’s already full of dog and cat dander that wants to torture me.
Molly follows me out. “Nicholas! Wait!”
I raise my hand and gesture reassuringly. It fails because I sneeze hard enough to crack a rib. “Just give me some time. I’ll be fine.”
She puts a hand on my arm and peers into my face. “Are you allergic to something in the shelter? If so, I’ll ask Brenda and see if we can take it out.”
When she looks at me with concern like this, I can’t brush her off. “Won’t work. I’m allergic to dogs and cats.” I sneeze again, but thankfully not as hard.
Her face goes lax with shock. “You’re allergic todogs and cats?”
I nod, then clear my throat, feeling sheepish about admitting it.
“But…you come to the shelter…”
