other, and the cone of a flashlight following them.
Instead of going inside, I went through the fence gate to the field out back. The dogs heard the creaky hinges and came running up to me. I bent down and greeted the seven dogs happily. No matter how long of a day I’d had, coming home to dozens of wagging tails always cheered me up. It reminded me why I did this.
Bonny, one of my two employees at Happy Bones, came walking up. Her breath misted in front of the flashlight.
“Thanks for working late,” I said.
“No problem,” the grey-haired woman said. “They’re all worn out, and I fed them half an hour ago. You got plans tomorrow?”
I hesitated before saying, “Oh yeah, I’m having some friends over for Thanksgiving. A small get-together.”
It was tough to gauge her reaction behind the flashlight, but she looked skeptical. “Well. Okay, then. If your plans change we’ve always got a chair open at our table. Rusty and the grandkids get into town tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of food.”
She handed me the flashlight and left. I spent a few minutes tossing a tennis ball with the dogs, then got them corralled back into their crates in the barn. Half the dogs were already inside curled up in their crates where it was warm. Bonny had turned on the barn heaters, which were necessary during this time of the year. It was going to get down into the twenties tonight.
I tucked every dog into their enclosures, closed everything up, and then said goodnight. When I walked into the house I was immediately greeted by a swarm of smaller dogs. Two Chihuahuas, a Yorkie, a small Beagle mix, and a Dachshund named Slinky who was so old he got around slowly. Slinky was the sweetest dog I had ever fostered at the shelter. But he was old, and the odds of him getting adopted were slim. As such, I kind of thought of him as my dog. One who would always be here.
After saying hello to each of them and giving them the proper amount of attention, I made my way to the kitchen to get some food.
The fridge was currently occupied by a twelve-pound turkey being brined in a giant pot. I had bought it weeks ago, when my original plans involved hosting Thanksgiving for Pierce’s family. Now I had all this food and nobody to cook for.
I closed the fridge, pulled a frozen lasagna out of the freezer, and tossed it in the microwave. While it cooked my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Pierce: Got your voicemail. I’ll send you the information for the bank accounts and Quickbooks as soon as I have them.
Me: Can’t you send them to me right now? It should only take a second.
Pierce: It takes a while because I have two-factor authentication enabled on all the accounts. It’s more complicated than just handing over the username and password. We have to get everything moved over to your phone. I’ll send it when it’s done.
Me: What about the credit cards? Did you get new ones sent in my name yet?
Pierce: I’m working on it. We have been busy at the courthouse. I’m working extra shifts.
Me: What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’m kind of helpless without account access. I need you to prioritize this.
Pierce: Don’t be dramatic. You still have paper checks and deposit slips. You can do everything you need to do.
I re-read the text exchange five or six times while my lasagna cooked. He worked as a clerk at the Flagstaff Courthouse, and I was skeptical of his excuse. The thing about Pierce was that he was a master procrastinator. He had a way of creating elaborate systems and excuses in order to avoid a task. I had ignored it when we first started dating, but it was one of his characteristics I had come to loathe over the years.
“One of many,” I muttered to myself. I pinched the bridge of my nose and glanced at the bills and supply invoices that had piled up on the kitchen table. Happy Bones was doing fine. We had thousands of dollars saved up in our bank accounts, but we spent a lot of money on food and supplies. I had been using my personal credit cards for the past two weeks. If I eventually needed to use paper checks, I would, but the sooner I got access to the non-profit’s bank accounts and credit cards, the better.
I woke up the