Second Chance Girl. Susan Mallery
still have to drive home. I’ll say wine.”
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
He collected a bottle of merlot and opened it, then poured her a glass. They each settled on a sofa in his family room. Sophie looked between them before jumping up and joining Mathias. She lay down next to him, her paws delicately crossed.
“She’s adorable,” Carol said.
“She snores.”
She laughed. “Such pain.”
“I’m exhausted. How was your day?”
“Good.” She thought about the unexpected check. “My dad and uncle made a generous donation to Millie’s fund. Only three hundred and seventy-five thousand left.” She raised her eyebrows. “Feeling generous?”
“I’d say no problem but Sophie destroyed three weeks’ worth of work in about ten minutes today.”
She winced. “Did she really? I’m sorry.”
“You and me both. I had to bribe Natalie to look after her while I’m in the studio. I’m also looking for a dog walker to take her out a couple of times a day. She has to be kept busy so she’s tired when we get home. Otherwise God knows what trouble she’d get into.”
“Poor you.”
“Tell me about it. So three hundred and seventy-five thousand, huh?” He shifted his drink to his other hand and absently petted Sophie. “Too bad you can’t put Millie to work for some of the money. You know, get her in a movie or something. Do the animals get paid?”
“I believe they’re rented.”
“That’s harsh. You have a unique problem, I’ll admit it. You’re going to have to be creative to find your way out.” He frowned. “How did you get into looking after big animals?” The frown faded. “Or exotic cows, as I like to think of them.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I know.”
She sighed. “You’re difficult.”
“I’m charming and you know it.”
Sadly, she did. “Violet and I were born in Connecticut and lived there until I was eight and she was six. Then our parents split up. Mom moved us to Manhattan while Dad took off for South Africa.”
“An unexpected choice.”
“He’d always been interested in animal welfare and had the opportunity to work on a large preserve. Violet and I visited every summer. It was very cool.”
She’d loved everything about the experience—the simple housing, the closeness with nature, the animals themselves. When it had been time to go back to New York, she’d started counting down the days until she could return.
“I can’t exactly see Violet loving it,” he said.
“You’re right. It wasn’t her thing. She would only stay for a few weeks, then head back to the States. But I never wanted to leave. I was allowed to hang out with all the adults working there. They let me ride along and help.” She smiled at the memories.
“So your dad moved back here and started the preserve?”
“Uh-huh. I finished college and joined him. He manages the business side of things and works with his brother. My team and I take care of our animals.”
“I don’t see a lot of your team members out at one in the morning, dealing with a sick cow.”
“Stop saying cow. I’d throw a pillow at you but I might hit Sophie.”
The beagle perked up when she heard her name and wagged her tail.
“Cheap talk,” Mathias said, then sipped his drink. “What happens after Millie gets her herd? Are you done collecting animals?”
“We’re going to have to make some decisions. We only have females. Eventually they’ll pass on, so we have to figure out what we want to do. Dad and I have been talking about offering a home for older circus animals, or getting a few males and starting a breeding program. We could look at helping out some of the zoos who want to separate herds for a period of time. Millie is the only species we have that’s endangered, but we could look at helping out with different at-risk species. There are a lot of options.”
Mathias stared at her. “You’re putting what I do in perspective. I make dishes.” He glanced at Sophie. “And you break them.”
“You create beautiful things. I take care of a few gazelles and a giraffe.”
“Still, impressive.”
The unexpected compliment made her want to squirm on her seat. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to start the barbecue.” He rose. “Now, tell me, how do you like your, um, cow?”
He’d moved away from the sofa, so she tossed a pillow at him. He avoided it easily, then shook his head. “Violence is never the answer, Carol.”
“You can say that because you’ve never had to deal with anyone as annoying as yourself.”
“Millie would be very disappointed in your attitude.” He looked at Sophie. “We won’t tell her, will we?”
Sophie barked in agreement.
Carol sighed as she followed them both into the kitchen. Mathias was an interesting guy, she thought, watching him pull steaks out of the refrigerator. More than interesting. Funny and sexy. If only, she thought...then told herself to get real. She would have a lot more luck wishing for the three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars she needed than wishing someone like him would notice someone like her. Plus a night with Mathias would simply be that—a night, while the money would mean friends for Millie. A far better use of her wishing time.
* * *
VIOLET SPENT NEARLY twenty-four hours alternating between hurt feelings and rage. Neither was especially conducive to sleep so she was up and showered before dawn. At seven, she got in her car and went by the donut place, then headed out to the preserve. With luck she would arrive just as Carol was finishing up with her charges.
She parked by the main barn. The morning was cool, the sky clear. As she watched several gazelles came bounding out and headed across the grass. A minute later she saw the ever stately Millie walking out to greet the day. Violet collected coffee and donuts, then went in search of her sister.
Carol was in her office, waiting for her computer to boot. Her eyes widened with surprise.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I wish.” She offered one of the coffees, then set the box of donuts on the desk. Irritation and hurt and a dozen other emotions burned. “I’m so angry, I couldn’t sleep.”
Her sister immediately looked concerned. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I guess. I just...” She stomped her foot, wishing Ulrich’s head was in the vicinity of her shoe. “For the record, English dukes are stupid. Especially Ulrich.” She collapsed into a chair and groaned. “I hate him. No, I disdain him. He’s loathsome.”
“Okay, tell me who he is so I can hate him, too.”
“You know I get buttons from all over the world,” Violet began. “I got started when I was in England like twelve years ago.”
“Nana Winifred,” Carol said. “The dowager duchess of...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened. “His mother?”
“Grandmother. And she’s not the problem. I buy and sell buttons. That’s what I do. It’s how I make my living. But does he know that? No. Instead of asking anything, he waltzed