“Would anyone like to pet Kimble?”
Hands shot up, but not as many as when they were trying to answer the questions. Chris showed the students exactly how Kimble liked to be touched, making sure they understood him.
“Did everyone get that?” the teacher asked. She glanced around the room, waiting for the kids to make eye contact. “Kimble likes to be touched gently. If you do not obey Mr. Gamble’s rules, there will be consequences when we return to school.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the class acknowledged.
Chris let them touch the ferret, thankful for the teacher backing him up.
After the kids finished petting the ferret, Chris motioned for Zach to step to the front. The intern began teaching the kids about the fox. When he was done, Cameron came up to show off one of their birds. She was an excellent handler when she wasn’t busy ensuring their operation ran smoothly. Chris prayed she planned on staying long-term at Gamble on Nature. He couldn’t imagine finding anyone else so competent, but since she was engaged, it was always possible her plans would change with the I dos.
Finally, the class left, and the building quieted. Chris blew out a breath as he washed his hands in the mudroom.
“You heading to the governor’s dinner?” Cameron asked, coming to stand beside him.
Chris squinted his eyes in an attempt to visualize his calendar. “That’s today?”
“Yes, sir.”
He let out a low moan.Lord, I don’t wanna.
“Don’t whine. The ladies will fawn all over you in your tux, and you’ll get the funding we need to continue running efficiently.”
“I hate these dinners. They’re so pretentious.” Why did the board always make him attend? Oh, sure, some of them would go to make sure he played well with others, but that didn’t make networking any more tolerable.But you said you would go, so man up.
“Says the man who’s friends with a movie star and Derby winner. I feel so sorry for your plight.”
He snorted at Cameron’s dry tone. “You don’t know what it’s like having to schmooze.”
“Because I don’t talk to people.”
“You just talked to a bunch of second graders.”
“Kids don’t become people until they hit fifth grade and lose their lovely innocence.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Then they’re monsters until high school.”
Chris chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I really feel that you should leave ASAP, so you have enough time to do something to that nest growing on your face. And maybe wash the animal stink off of you before you don the tux.”
“You nag so much, Cameron.” He headed for the exit.
“It’s what you pay me for!”
Three
I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The black evening gown was my go-to for events such as this. The lace top created a whimsical impression while the satin skirt—complete with pockets—maintained a professional look. Adding some black drop earrings completed the picture. I could now attend the governor’s dinner.
Why the man called it a dinner when the event was more of a who’s who and a scratch-your-back networking association was beyond me. Then again, titling the event a dinner gave an idea of what was to come. Over a four-course meal, Governor Jankowski would thank people and honor them by handing out certificates for various accomplishments—volunteering, model citizen, best business, et cetera. Attendees would network around the dinner tables before and after the awards ceremony.
It was utterly exhausting.
Still, I had sent in my RSVP, which meant I had to paste on a fake smile and prepare to sob internally while the night dragged on.
I grabbed my black-glitter clutch, checking to ensure my ID, credit card, and lipstick were inside. The small canister ofmace was a just-in-case precaution I’d yet to use but always carried with me. Flicking the light off, I strode out of my bedroom, down the wood-floor hall, and out the front door of my condo building.
The governor’s house was in Denver, so I had about an hour and a half—depending on traffic—before I arrived. A mindfulness podcast would help keep my mind in a serene state. It didn’t do me any good to get anxious as I drove north to the capital city.
Halfway there, I turned off the podcast and selected my ’90s diva playlist. It held songs from powerhouses like Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, and En Vogue. Maybe listening to the artists belt out songs about love would empower me to walk into the mansion confidently, without fear that someone would recognize me as a fraud.
