Bill Brennan’s face turned red as he pushed out of the chair. “You need to start thinking about other people sometimes.” He tossed down a piece of paper with a name and phone number scribbled across it and started toward the door. Before he exited, he threw a parting punch. “Hank would’ve never been so self-absorbed.”
Chance brushed the note into the trash.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KYNDAL CHECKED HER WATCH as she left the employees’ restroom. Eleven forty-eight. Morning sickness came at midday today. If she could convince herself to throw up and get it over with, she’d be better off. Instead, she tried to talk herself out of the nausea and always ended up having to make a run for it. It hadn’t happened with a customer present yet, but no doubt it would.
Mandy, the assistant photographer, didn’t even try to hide her annoyance at Kyndal’s perpetual “stomach bug.” She had perfected the dramatic sigh accompanied by eye roll throughout the month of December, and used it now. “You really do need to see a doctor.”
Kyndal had no desire to share her personal life with the snotty little twit. “I have an appointment tomorrow” was as deep as she got. She gathered up the squeaky toys from the floor, wiping off the drool from their last customer—a pretentious poodle who growled and snapped at “Santa” Howard until he plied her with doggie treats. “Where’s Santa?” Kyndal moved the conversation to a less intimate topic.
“Getting more treats.” Mandy’s theatrics made Kyndal well aware that the sophomore photography major felt being an assistant was beneath her talent—and she hated working the weekend shift. And wiping the dog toys. And cleaning up the accidents that some of the more excitable animals left. She would’ve preferred to touch only the prints themselves.
A lady with a puggle in a military jacket came through the front door and headed their way, and Kyndal stifled an eye roll of her own.
Santa Howard took his place with the dog on his lap. The dog proved to be quite placid, and Kyndal became absorbed in getting the perfect shot. It came when the dog rose up to lick Santa’s nose. Howard turned his head to avoid the kiss, and a quick flick on the button made it look like the puggle was whispering his Christmas wishes in Santa’s ear. His “mommy” bought twenty-four copies of the pose.
As Mandy handed the woman her envelope of prints, Jaci came through the door waving magazines in each hand.
Kyndal’s heart leaped. Kentucky Wonders was a reality at last!
“I just got these next door.” Jaci thrust one toward her. “You get to see it first, so hurry up.”
The cover was one of her shots! The entrance to Chance’s cave—a black hole surrounded by gray limestone edged by the reds, yellows, oranges and browns of autumn trees. The shot was still breathtaking. She realized she was holding hers when she let it out in a whoosh and came out of her spell.
“I got the last seven copies,” Jaci was saying. “The lady at The Book Nook said they’d been a hot item all morning. They even moved them from the periodicals to a table up by the checkout. She said people were buying them as stocking stuffers and to send to family who’ve moved from the area. Cool, huh?”
“Very cool.” Kyndal turned the pages slowly, savoring the sight of her photographs once again showcased in a venue to be proud of. She clutched it tight against her and did a happy dance.
“Don’t wrinkle it.” Jaci’s eyes twinkled in opposition to her stern tone. “These may be collectors’ items someday.”
“Probably only if our moms decide to become collectors.” Kyndal shrugged. “And speaking of my mom, she called last night.”
The twinkle in Jaci’s eyes flickered, replaced by two-thirds concern and one-third question. “How did it go?”
“I’ll tell you over lunch if you can stay.” Kyndal pointed toward the back of the store where the employees had their small kitchen. “Progresso Minestrone.”
Jaci nodded. “It’ll have to be fast, though. The kittens are in the car with the heating pad plugged in. I don’t want to run down my battery.”
Kyndal had to smile at her friend’s dedication to the orphaned kittens. For the past four weeks, she’d hauled them around almost everywhere she went, including work. She’d even hired a kitten-sitter on a few occasions.
“Mandy—” Kyndal followed the young woman’s dour expression to the young man in a leather jacket with