Cari Webb - The Charm Offensive

Sophie struggled to remain positive, but her hope deflated quicker than the crumbs beneath Kay’s fist.

“Pete Hampton called this morning to rescind the sponsorship,” Kay said. “But he wants you to keep the firm on the sponsorship list for next year, so it isn’t a total loss.”

“I have to get through this year before I can even consider next year.” And getting through this year was in jeopardy without one of her largest sponsors. “I appreciate that he’s the senior partner and busy, but can I talk to him directly?”

“Pete’s on the road, heading to Phoenix, then Dallas, and won’t return until the end of next week.”

That’d be too late. Sophie needed to pay the caterer and the audio-visual guy on Tuesday after the holiday weekend. Kay avoided looking at Sophie, and her shoulders dipped forward as if she’d lost her only dog in a blizzard. Sophie asked, “There’s no way to change his mind, is there?”

“That man is a mule—brilliant, but a mule all the same.” Kay tossed the napkin into the trash. “I can bring it up with him when he checks in this afternoon.”

Sophie shook her head. She didn’t want Kay to jeopardize her own position within the company. Kay needed the health insurance that covered her pregnant daughter.

“Pete mentioned that the insurance company and the wellness center have also withdrawn their sponsorship. Is that true?”

Sophie pressed into the hard cherrywood table to keep from swaying backward. She felt pummeled like Kay’s croissant: ruined and unrecognizable. The loss of two more sponsors threatened the gala’s success. She had a vision for this gala. “They are my next two stops.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m sure Pete was mistaken.” But Kay’s voice lacked conviction.

“I don’t understand. When we’d met not long ago, they were excited and willing to help with the event. Everyone believed they’d help the animals first and foremost, and also boost their brands or businesses in the process. It’s a win for everyone.” For the Pampered Pooch, Sophie was hoping the event advertising would lead to more sales and subsequently allow her to venture into service-dog training.

“Pete claimed he’d made another commitment that he couldn’t break. And he mentioned something about the first-quarter budget.”

“But he could break his word to me.” Sophie cleared her throat. “Sorry, this isn’t your fault. I wanted this to work.” She’d wanted the Paws and Bark Bash to become the premier nonprofit event in the city. She’d wanted to make a difference beyond her small store. She’d wanted to do something that mattered. Ensuring forever homes for rescues and service dogs mattered.

“And it will.” Kay pushed her chair away from the table. “You just need to find new sponsors. More committed sponsors. We’ll think of businesses to approach.”

“I approached most of the city a year ago when I started planning the gala,” Sophie said. “It was hard to get those sponsors to commit ten months ago. Now we’re less than a month before the event.”

And she was broke, aside from Ella’s eye-surgery fund and the little she had in the Pooch business account. Final payments were all due within the next few weeks. She pushed out of the chair, trying to leave her distress in the leather imprint. She still had two more sponsors to visit this morning. And her father could call back or realize his mistake or return her money. She refused to give up—at least, not yet.

“I can help,” Kay said.

“You’re here more than sixty hours a week and you have April to think about.” Sophie pressed the chair to the table’s edge, trying not to panic.

“I want to help,” Kay insisted as they left the conference room.

“I appreciate it.” Sophie walked to the door. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll text you when I get home.” Kay placed her headset back on.

Sophie nodded and hurried outside. She needed to check the contracts she’d signed and reread the section on cancelations and penalties. She couldn’t handle forfeiting the 50 percent deposit she’d given the caterer and the venue. More than the lost money was the damage to her reputation and the Pampered Pooch. She’d forged relationships, given her word to service-dog breeders and foster organizations. She’d vowed to find homes for every rescue she encountered and minimize their costs with affordable vet services and discounted dog supplies.

An hour later, Sophie stood in front of the insurance corporation and stared at her distorted reflection in the silver-plated serving tray. She wanted to bash the platter against the cement wall of the building, but the dish was worth at least a hundred dollars at the silent auction. That money alone could feed a kitten like Stormy Cloud for several months.

Three sponsors lost in one day. A savings account emptied overnight. And her full-time employee on bed rest. The day was turning out to be something for the record books. She squeezed the embellished silver handles, wanting to absorb the steel into her spine, and stepped into the fog that refused to give way to the sun.

Her first encounter with the city had been on a foggy night, when she’d stepped off the passenger bus holding her sister’s hand. Her grandmother had emerged from beneath a dull streetlamp to wrap both girls in her embrace. There’d been comfort in that night such that Sophie had always welcomed the fog. Greeted the fog like a lost friend.

Except today. Today, no one was coming forward from the mist to embrace her and lie to her about everything being all right, like her grandmother had done all those years ago.

CHAPTER FOUR

BRAD TOSSED THE wrapper from his breakfast burrito into the trash and checked the time. He’d planned on returning to the Pampered Pooch after a quick breakfast, but Evelyn Davenport had texted while he was in line at the Gourmet Burrito that she wanted to meet with him as soon as possible. He’d taken his burrito to go and messaged her that he was heading back to his temporary living quarters at his friend Zack’s loft. She hadn’t arrived yet, so he took a spot on the couch and left a voice mail at Delta Craft asking for an update on the Freedom Seeker’s restoration.

Two photos filled the screen of his laptop on the steel-and-chrome coffee table. One picture was of a well-groomed, debonair man in his early fifties. The other was a woman in her late twenties with a baseball cap, ponytail, purple sweatshirt featuring a familiar paw-print logo, and running shoes. Sophie and George Callahan might dress differently, but they shared a similar undeniable charm. Sophie was the girl next door every boy wanted to ask to prom, and George was the one the accounting floor went to happy hour with every Thursday night at Mac’s Tavern—a guy’s guy and a woman’s best confidant.

People were masters at pretense: pretending to listen to their children, pretending to be committed to charity work, pretending to be good, honest citizens.

But there had been nothing fake about Sophie’s interaction with Ella, from the tenderness in the kiss she’d pressed to the girl’s forehead to the patience and understanding in her calm voice.

Brad’s mother had treated her boys like adults from the time they could crawl. The Harrington boys did not need toys—Nancy Harrington’s boys needed calendars to keep them on task, wristwatches to keep them to a schedule and foreign language tutors to keep them civilized. She’d happily listened to their Latin recitation and would never have pandered to such a nonsensical thing as pairs day.

But Sophie had given pairs day the utmost importance because it mattered to Ella. And that had touched Brad on a level he wasn’t entirely comfortable acknowledging. Sophie’s compassion hit somewhere close to that tender spot he still harbored from the morning his mother had summoned him to her sterile office to enlighten him about the truth of Santa.