“I know the owner here, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” Brigham nodded in greeting to a man dressed in a suit before shaking my dad’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blue.”
My dad responded, because manners had been pounded into him, but his face paled. “You too, Brigham.”
“Should we find a table? Order some food?” Brigham asked, putting his arm around me. “This place is great and I’m starving.”
“Right, yeah,” I said, sweating buckets at the accusatory glances my parents were tossing my way. “Food.”
“I’m sure you want to eat before you tell your parents about next Saturday,” Brigham said, definitely loud enough for my mom and dad to hear, and I elbowed him in the side. “What?”
“Not subtle, man.”
“Tell us about what? You’re not…running away together, are you?” my mom asked with the same tone she used to talk about trash.
“God, Mom. No. Just wait until we sit down.”
She shrugged and the hostess led us to our table. We got seated and ordered coffee and our meals, before Brigham put his arm on the back of my chair. “Show them,” he said.
I took a deep breath and took the folded flyer from my pocket. “Next Saturday I’m hosting an adoptathon with Paws Inc. from the valley and with three players from Los Soles baseball team. We’re hoping to raise funds for my business as well as get the dogs adopted from the no-kill shelter.”
My mom read the flyer, her eyes moving frantically over the words, while my dad remained stiff. My throat hurt and Brigham moved his hand to my shoulder, rubbing gentle circles on it. I hated how I wanted their approval. It was childish and something I wouldn’t get unless I had a PhD in PhDs. But my dad nodded. “This is impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“A foolish pursuit of trying to make a living, but an event this size will bring in donors. How much are you hoping to make? A couple thousand?”
Brigham snorted and raised a hand in the air in mock surrender. “She’s already had, what…fifty thousand donated already? Even before the event?”
“Correct.” I slid him a smug look. That amount of money shocked the shit out of my parents. My father’s face of indifference cracked and he gasped. “To answer your question, I’m going in expecting nothing because I’m set to open at the end of this year. I should be able to run without making a single penny for at least one year and I doubt I’ll make no profit.”
“Yeah, now with Megan’s marketing campaign. She is killing it.” Brigham smiled at me and reached under the table to rest his hand on my thigh. “Blue Bell has worked her ass off for this.”
“Blue Bell?” my mom asked, almost showing a hint of a pride. “Is that a nickname?”
“Yup. First time I saw her, she had blue hair and wore a blue dress. When she said it was her last name, I about fainted.” He squeezed my thigh and met my parent’s eyes. “You should be proud of her.”
“Brigham,” I warned, hating the way my body tensed and my mouth became dry.
“What? They’d be fools not to.”
“They can hear you. Us. This.” I waved my hand between us, but it only made him laugh. “Ugh, you. You’re lucky I don’t hate you.”
“You guys seem close,” my mom said, eyeing us now with a different look in her eyes. “And, Sarah Bell, we are proud of you.”
“Uh, you’ve literally never said those words in my entire life.” I widened my eyes and laughed. “This is a revelation.”
“Don’t be dramatic, darling.” My mom sat up straighter and sipped her water like the Queen of England was judging her technique. “We just don’t agree with what you’re choosing to do. I never thought you didn’t have grit or determination.”
“Hm.” I thought about how to respond but didn’t get the chance before the suited man came up and greeted Brigham.
“Dude! Great to see you. It’s been a while, huh?”
“Hey, Everett.” Brigham stood up and did a bro hug with the guy before glancing at me. “He attends games all the time. His family has season tickets behind our dugout.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”Dugout?
“This is Sarah Blue and her parents. Hey, if you and the fam aren’t busy next Saturday, stop on by. Me, Gideon and Bummy are helping Sarah with an adoptathon and I know your mom would trade you in for a dog.”
“Dude,” he said, smiling down at the flyer Brigham passed him. “Let me snap a pic of this.” He got out his phone, took the picture and widened his eyes at me. “My wife will be all over it. And my mom. Honestly, they overpower me most days.”
