Page 48 of Puck Daddies
“I’ll fix the latch,” I say.
Fitz leans in. “You want me to call Dana now?”
“Yes,” she says. “Text her a photo of the top page. Tell her the owner is Addaway.”
He nods and pulls his phone. He takes a photo on the table and sends it before she changes her mind.
Meg presses her fingers over her eyes for three seconds. Then she lowers them and reverts to her host appearance. “We’re going to finish strong. We don’t cede this night to him.”
“We won’t,” I promise.
Back out in the shop, Meg steps onto the stool and raises the mic. Her voice is steady. “Quick update. You have raised $4,320 for the shelter tonight, and we’re not done. They need food, blankets, toys, and vet money. We have a donor who will match up to five hundred dollars in the next twenty minutes. If you were thinking about giving, now is a good time.” She smiles the work smile that hides strain and somehow looks warmer. “Thank you for being here.”
Hands go to pockets. The jar fills again. A woman walks up with a bag of dog toys she brought from home and hands it to the shelter volunteer. Someone else holds up a blanket they had in their trunk. The room moves the way it should.
We close the event with a final push for the shelter. The jar tops five thousand. The shelter volunteer looks like she’s going to sit down on the floor and cry. Meg hugs her and gives her water and tells her when to expect the transfer.
We start the flip. Chairs. Tables. Trash. The team stays and works. Meg makes the last call to Dana on the office phone while we mop. She comes out with her face set and her eyes dry. “They filed the deed yesterday,” she says. “The notice is legal. We have a few options. Dana will list them in the morning. For tonight, we lock the door and go home.”
No one argues. We finish the close. We lock up. We stand outside the door for a second and let the night air hit our faces. On the way to the car, I fall back so I can walk next to her without the others hearing me. “You held the room.”
“I had to,” she says. “If I broke out there, he got what he wanted.”
“You still get to break. Just not for him.”
We say good night to Aqua and Bex and Tom. We split for cars. Hudson drives Meg. Fitz waits for me. We ride in silence for a few blocks.
“You sang,” he says finally.
“I did.”
“You have your voice again.”
“I do. Now we help her keep hers.”
16
OLIVER
My mother invitesme to brunch with the kind of message that is not a request.Family Sunday, 11 a.m. Dad wants to talk. Wear a collared shirt.
I pull on a button-down and drive out to the house.
The gate recognizes my plate. The drive is long enough to feel like you’re leaving one world for another. The mansion is quiet even when it’s full. Staff move like air. My mother meets me in the front hall and kisses my cheek without smudging her lipstick. It wouldn’t dare smudge.
“Oliver. Thank you for coming.”
“Hi, Mom.”
She looks me over like she’s checking for damage. “You look tired.”
“We had the shelter event. It went well.”
“Yes, I saw something about bees and candles. It’s good for a Fitzwilliam to help with charity work,” she says, and moves me toward the sunroom. “Your father will be down in a moment.”
My sister, Caroline, is already at the table with a tablet and a coffee she didn’t make. She waves. “Hi, Olly.”
“Hey, Care Bear.”
