“I don’t care.” He pauses in his evaluation. “Don’t put your name and location out there or anything crazy. Stranger danger applies to the internet. Or so I’ve been told. All sorts of scary things happen to pretty girls like you online.”
He called me pretty!
I fight not to roll my eyes since I run the entire server for the retirement home. Not just the website, but the actual server and the portal software. I’m kind of a bad ass behind a keyboard though no one knows that. It’s the way I prefer it. “I know about online safety.”
“And don’t give anyone your passwords. Or use password for your password. I’ve heard that’s a bad idea too.”
Okay, I finally roll my eyes. “But I was just planning to publish them on this new forum I found called, Safety Tips from My Elderly Relative.”
He looks up at me, frustration evident on his face. “Online safety isn’t a joke.”
I wonder how long it’s been since he was on the internet, remembering now that he’s been deployed all over the world. Sometimes, in places without access to any technology. He told me once that he can make a radio transmitter with just a nail and a tin can.
“I will be super careful, promise,” I answer. Heck, maybe I do need the reminder after what happened to Aunt Elaine. Although, in all fairness, the guy did check out. Everything he said, I was able to verify—where he lived and who he was. I just didn’t realize until it was too late that he was using filters on the video calls to change his appearance.
“That’s all I ask,” he says.
I leave him to his work and return to my desk in the reception area. In between helping residents, I start my research on the best way to offer the petting zoo. It’s an offline experience, but I’m hoping I can get the word out, so people beyond the borders of Courage County show up.
After a few hours of research, I settle on building my own website for the petting zoo. It’s the best solution since some of the fundraising platforms have high fees. I get that they have to make money, but that means not every dollar goes to the families and communities in need, a fact that isn’t always disclosed to donors.
Once I’m done with the website, I link it to the right platforms and ask a few online friends to share it on their circles. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Maybe it’ll get the wheels turning. After all, sometimes what’s needed is a little push. I can only hope this is the little push the retirement community needs.
“Ooh, my favorite red,” I murmur when Bree, my best friend, opens her fridge and produces a wine bottle she’s had chilling.
She grabs a couple of wine glasses, pausing to shoo away Max and Rex who showed up the moment they heard her opening cabinets. The dogs are her husband’s German Shepherds. Dalton had them before he met her, but those two are increasingly more loyal to her than they are him. I can’t blame them for liking Bree better. She’s not nearly as grumpy, and she always gives them treats.
“No, your dad said I can’t possibly give you anymore. He’s concerned that I’m spoiling you boys.”
One of them—I think his name is Max—tilts his head and lets out a little whine.
“OK, but just the one,” she says and puts the glasses on the table. She turns back to the cabinet and produces a box of dog treats. They’re the good kind that come from one of those brands that believes in making healthy pet food.
She tosses them each a treat which they quickly devour. She settles at the table across from me and pours us each a generous glass of wine while the dogs circle before resting at her feet. She pops a cookie from Courage Cookies into her mouth and moans. “So good. I can’t believe Haley makes these fresh every day.”
“She’s really good at what she does. Now, tell me. How is married life?” I gesture around the cabin. Bree moved to Courage County recently to become the nurse practitioner at Wildflower Community Center. But she fell in love with Dalton, the gardener, after he started writing her romantic love letters. They got married pretty fast, and she’s already moved into his place. Well, I guess it’s theirs now. It sure is homey with the little throw pillows on the front porch, and the soft quilt on the couch.
Her smile is dreamy, a newlywed still enraptured with the idea of marital bliss. “Being married is the best. I thought it’d be hard getting used to being in a different space and always having someone around. But Dalton and I…we just fit.”
I think of Bronco and how easy it is when I’m with him. We tease each other, well, I tease him, and he responds. He takes care of me, cooks me breakfast, and makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
“But you’re not here to discuss my marriage.”
“I’m not?” I swallow a sip of wine and remind myself that’s the difference. Bree and Dalton are married. Bronco and I aren’t. Bronco doesn’t see me as anything other than a responsibility that got dumped on him. That’s why he’s always so nice to me. The thought sends a bolt of pain through my chest.
“No, I invited you over because you seem sad lately. I wanted to check in.”
It’s been a week since I started the petting zoo online. I’m not getting any donations or interest. In fact, no one seems to care at all. I guess, there are a million petting zoos nearby, and Bronco’s isn’t that special.
My big idea was a big failure, and I don’t know how to fix that. I want so desperately to save the community center. I can’t stand the idea that everything Aunt Elaine has built is about to come crashing down.
But these aren’t things I can tell Bree. I can’t tell anyone that. Even if I hadn’t sworn my secrecy to Aunt Elaine, I don’t want members of the staff panicking. No, it’s better that I shoulder this burden alone.
“You can tell me anything,” Bree says.
I rotate my glass, watching the wine swirl. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s the same old sad story. Girl hopelessly in love with her brother’s best friend pines quietly.”
“Seems like it might be more than that,” she presses.
