I followed the small group into the cavernous space. I didn’t know exactly how big it was, but Lacey had said we could fit a regulation-sized football field inside, so there was plenty of room for whatever half-baked idea Alex might come up with. I stood to the side while he counted off steps.
“I figure we can bring in a temporary dome. That way we don’t have to insulate the entire space. We’ll need to keep the temperature regulated for the penguins.”
“Of course.” Townsend jotted down a few notes.
While the men volleyed ideas back and forth, my gaze wandered around the warehouse. They’d moved all of the shelving to one side, so the vast majority of the space was open, making it seem even larger than it probably was.
Dolly spun and danced in a wide circle around us, her shoes thunking on the concrete floors. I remembered her from the restaurant last night. She’d been dressed in sparkles and a tutu then. “I like your shoes.”
“Thanks.” Dolly spiraled closer. “Uncle Alex said I would get dirty here, so I wrapped up.”
I stifled a giggle. So that’s why the kid was outfitted in layer upon layer of toilet paper. “Don’t you have a jacket or something you could have put on instead?”
Dolly stopped spinning and wobbled slightly. I put my arm out to keep the girl from falling over. “If I wore a robe, you wouldn’t be able to see my sparkles.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Do you like sparkles?”
I thought for a moment. “Yeah, I like some sparkles from time to time.” The truth was, I’d rather dress in camo than adorn myself with glitter and jewels. But Dolly obviously preferred to shine, and I would never take away someone’s right to sparkle.
“Mama says I’m obnextus.”
“Obnoxious?”
“Yeah, that’s what she says. But Daddy likes it. He says I’m his little princess.”
“I’m sure your daddy’s right.” I smiled at the girl. I’d felt like my daddy’s little princess once upon a time. The memory made my stomach twist. I missed my dad, especially in moments like this when I was reminded of the special bond between a dad and his little girl. I’d been a daddy’s girl from the beginning. That’s why I’d gone into the military in the first place—to follow in my father’s footsteps. But when Zeb came home a damaged shell of the eager eighteen-year-old who’d gone off to serve his country, my dad hadn’t been able to handle it. He’d taken a civilian assignment on the other side of the world, and I hadn’t heard from him in over a year.
“Uncle Alex says you have puppies here. Can I meet one?” Dolly glanced up at me.
“Sure, but one at a time. They get pretty wound up when they have visitors.” That was an understatement. So many of the pitties at the rescue had such little socialization with people, especially kids, that they got super excited when exposed to anew person. Most of the animals had acclimated to having me around, but new dogs came into the shelter just about every day and there was no way to predict which ones might be used to kids and which ones needed to stay separate.
“Daddy said we could get a dog someday when he’s home all the time.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Where’s your daddy now?”
Dolly twirled, making the toilet paper flop up and down. “He’s in Ganistan. Mommy says it’s far, far away.”
“Afghanistan?”
The girl’s forehead wrinkled. “I think so.”
“Yeah, that is far away. I went there once.”
“Is there lots of sand?”
I chuckled, immediately taken back to where the sand blew across my face all day, finding its way into cracks and crevices I didn’t even know I had. “Yeah, there’s lots of sand.”
“Like at the beach? I like the beach.”
“Not quite like at the beach.” The beach had the ocean, where you could take a quick dip and wash off the hot stickiness of the day. The sand in the Middle East was relentless. It found its way into my hair, my nose, and the cracks between my toes. No matter how many times I rinsed off, I’d still find it everywhere. Not to mention how many pounds of sand I probably ate since it seemed to coat everything at camp, including the food.
“Who would you like to meet first?”
“Do you have any puppies?” Dolly asked.
I mentally raced through the dogs in residence. “Not really. We don’t get a ton of puppies unless one of the mama dogs we rescue is pregnant.”
