Page 27 of Entering a New World

Mave nodded, lips thinning. “You definitely have to do that, sweetie. I think Paul already knows you’ll be coming his way.”

“Paul?”

She nodded. “Paul Lessard.”

Glancing at the professor sitting in the wingback chair, legs resting on a small stool, she waved me over. “Follow me to my office.” Louder, she added. “Oh, I have a few pamphlets for you. Come with me, dear.”

I hesitated for a moment, then surrounded the reception and followed her through a swinging door towards the back office. It was stuffy, a little dusty, but had the same warm feeling to it Mave had. Pictures of kids and young adults covered every available surface that wasn’t occupied by mountains of paperwork.

“Sorry, sweetie, I was just making sure our dear professor was out of earshot. He’s a strange one, that fellow. A history professor specializing in old, regional legends. I’m keeping an eye on him, just to make sure he really is just here on vacation.”

I nodded. “You think he’s here because of…” I nodded at her. “… You know?”

Mave giggled. “It’s a possibility, and quite frankly, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Better safe than sorry. Anyway, Rhett told us about what you’ve been through. You know, pack is a little like having a really big, extensive family. Gossip is a currency. Everybody is up in everybody’s business… Anyway, Paul Lessard works as a Mountie and is a member of the pack, so just go ahead and ask for him. It’s easier for you to explain everything to him without having to leave anything out. He knows what to write in the report.”

Exhaling, I realized I was incredibly relieved about having a… shifter contact with the police. I hadn’t even thought about it beforehand, but explaining how I managed to get out of the woods was definitely easier if I could be honest about it.

“Also, I made a map for you, highlighting the shifter-owned businesses in town.” Mave grabbed something off her desk and handed it to me; an old school paper map, obviously printed from the internet. The quality of the print was horrible, the font so blurry it was hard to read anything, and the bright pink highlighter used to circle a couple of the stores didn’t help.

“Thank you,” I said. “Though I’m afraid you won’t be able to get much money from me. I don’t have my wallet or passport or, well… anything, for that matter, and I have no idea how to get it all back. Maybe Paul can help with that, too.”

Mave nodded, her wrinkly face still serious, lips pressed into a thin line. Then she suddenly snapped her fingers, face lighting up, the usually rosy hue returning to her cheeks. “Oh, dear, I almost forgot!”

Within the blink of an eye—really, she was moving so fast I could barely keep track of her movements—she was standing in front of her big, antique looking desk, pulling open various drawers, muttering something under her breath while rummaging through stacks of opened mail, notebooks, and pencils.

Finally, after starting her search a second time, she pulled a white envelope that had my name scribbled on it in big letters out of a drawer.

“Rhett left this with me. He said he wanted you to have this,” she said, handing it over.

I immediately knew what it was. The shape of the object inside the envelope was unmistakable. A card. Likely a credit card.

He couldn’t really be giving me a credit card, could he? I mean… who did that?

Someone who believes fate chose you two for each other, my brain helpfully supplied.

Shaking my head, I opened the envelope and—sure enough—there was a credit card inside that had a note attached to it.

Dear Levi,

I know you currently don’t have access to your bank account since you don’t have your belongings. I don’t want you to feel trapped here, so please take this card. It has a limit of $1000. That should tide you over for a while.

Also, I figured you probably want a way to go online. I don’t know exactly what you need and if the stuff is up to your standards, but there’s a tablet and a phone waiting for you at the packhouse. Just tell Mave you need it and she’ll have the stuff delivered.

Yours,

Rhett

There was a lump in my throat that made it impossible to breathe.

I couldn’t accept this.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

I nodded, then shook my head before settling on a shrug.

Was everything okay? I honestly didn’t know. It was too much. The clothes, the gifts, a fucking credit card. How Rhett anticipated what I’d need and just… took care of it, without wanting recognition.

Yeah, sure, he’d signed the note, but he wasn’t rubbing it in. He didn’t demand I meet him, didn’t pressure me to talk to him in exchange for the stuff he was giving me. He was just… helping.

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