Puppy Love for Christmas

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Sabrina clutched the clipboard close to her chest. Her mind was still with Triumph over at the Animal Sanctuary instead of the Annual Christmas By the Sea Hot Chocolate Competition. It took all her will to separate herself from the three-legged pup. He was so cute. Chris said he’d stay with Triumph until he was acclimated to his new surroundings. They would meet up at the Wakefield mansion at 7 pm for the family dinner. Last time Sabrina checked on them via text, Chris reported that Triumph was huddled in a corner of his cage. The poor thing.

If Sabrina thought she had been determined to find the puppy a home before meeting him, she was even more determined now. Triumph would make a wonderful addition to any home. It was a shame that all everyone saw was his missing leg. Not this time.

“Sabrina? Are you with us?” Mrs. Tilbury from Tilbury Cakes, one of the other judges, asked, nudging her with an elbow.

“Yes, yes.” Sabrina shook her head in the hopes of waking herself up and focusing.

The annual hot chocolate competition was as famous as the Christmas festival. It brought in contestants from the surrounding towns. Some were even from a different state. There were three winners in total. A whopping $500 went to First Place and the People’s Choice. Then $300 went to Second Place.

That year they had over thirty participants. Each had their own mixing table assigned to them. They had one hour to prepare and pour enough hot chocolate for five judges and the first fifty people that came to sample. And sample was the key word. One sip was all the judges needed to gauge the thickness, the sweetness, and the consistency. The best hot chocolates balanced all three.

Sabrina took the five-ounce cup from their tenth participant. First, she swirled the chocolate. This one was on the thicker side. It clung to the sides of the cup like molasses. Then she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. Too hot. It had been boiling for too long. She tasted it in the burnt chocolate and chili added for an extra kick.

She put down the cup and made notations according to the contestant number on the spreadsheet attached to the clipboard. She made a mental note to pace herself. There were twenty more contestants. It would be unfair if she burned out before the end. After the tenth contestant, the judges gathered and swilled cold water around their mouth to clear their palate for the next batch.

“Hey, Sabrina.” Troy waved at her from across a row of tables.

For a second, Sabrina almost spit out the cold water inside her mouth. Had the unfortunate happen, Mr. Fogle, of Fogle Hardware—another judge—would have been the recipient of an early shower. Good thing she managed to swallow before Troy reached her side.

“How’s the judging going?” he asked, pulling her aside.

They wouldn’t have to move on to the next batch of hot chocolate contestants for another few minutes. Sabrina wouldn’t have allowed distractions otherwise. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re only asking because you have ulterior motives,” she said, glancing down the names of the contestants on her clipboard. “Your mother is in the last batch that we will be trying for the day, so no point in trying to find out how she’s doing. Shoo, spy!”

His grin was too adorable for Sabrina’s defenses to fend off. “Doesn’t mean I can’t butter you up. What will it take? I’m open to any suggestion.”

“And bribery.” She faked looking shocked. “How low will you go? I’ll have you know, good sir, that I cannot be bought.”

Troy sidled up closer to her and leaned in to whisper in a conspiratorial manner, “Actually, don’t tell my mother, but I’m here with my own personal agenda.”

“Oh?” Sabrina played along, looking from side to side as if watching out for anyone keeping an eye on their shady dealings. “Pray tell, what is this personal agenda of yours?”

She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was nice to interact with Troy the way they used to. They fell into place. Knowing each other so well. It was as if they hadn’t been broken up for a little over a year.

“Have dinner with me,” Troy said, serious now. “Tonight.”

“I can’t. I’m having dinner at the Wakefield’s tonight.”

“Blow them off.”

Then Sabrina was reminded why Troy annoyed her. He never thought about the consequences of his actions. Asking her to blow off her plans may have seemed like nothing to him, but she wasn’t his adoring puppy that would drop everything as soon as the master came home.

“Chris asked me yesterday,” she said, standing her ground. “I’m not about to flake on him at the last minute.”

Troy must have noticed the hard set of her jaw because he softened his approach when he spoke again. “Then what about the Christmas Hayride tomorrow? Come on . . .” He bumped his shoulder with hers. “You love the Christmas Hayride.”

He had her there. The event was one of the highlights of the festival and a personal favorite of hers. She felt herself soften against the puppy dog eyes Troy added to his “pretty please.”

When he kneeled, and clasped his hands in prayer in front of her, she rolled her eyes and nodded. Right about the same time, Mrs. Tilbury waved Sabrina over. And none too soon too because who knew how low Troy would stoop to get her to go with him?

“Looks like they’re calling you over,” Troy said, picking himself up and dusting off his jeans.

“No rest for the wicked.” Sabrina gave him one last smile before she joined the group of judges once more.

***

With a belly full of the finest hot chocolate sloshing in her, Sabrina ambled on over to the shelter. Chris had left for home, so she thought to check on Triumph before she headed over to the Wakefield’s place. She waved at Sharleen, who was busy giving instructions to one of the volunteers. Then she headed for the kennels at the back of the building.

Immediately she was greeted with a howling puppy. Since none of the other dogs barked much, hearing the cries was unnerving. She rushed to the last stall and found Triumph still huddled at the back, tail tucked in the space between his right hind leg and his missing left leg.

Sabrina dropped to her knees and made soothing sounds. She kept her voice calm when she said, “It’s okay, buddy. Everything is going to be okay.”

Already she was hearing whimpers from the other dogs. Anxiety could spread faster than a wildfire in a shelter. Even the cats would feel it if all the dogs started acting up. That was the last thing they all needed.

She opened the door to the kennel and reached inside, hand curled into a soft fist to avoid having her fingers bitten incase Triumph decided to lash out. Instead of coming closer, the puppy huddled further into the corner and yowled. Thinking fast, Sabrina got to her feet and pulled out the Cat in the Hat that she kept on a shelf near the dog bowls. She had seen a video on f*******: of a shelter who practiced reading to dogs. It was successful and calming the animals and allowing them to approach the front of their kennels. This then made the dogs associate positive energy with humans and helped them be adopted faster.

Book in hand, Sabrina sat down, cross-legged, in front of the kennel and began reading.

“the sun did not shine.

it was too wet to play.

so we sat in the house

all that cold, cold, wet day.”

Page after page, stanza after stanza, Sabrina read. She kept her voice calm, focused on the rhythm of the rhyme. Making sure there was a proper cadence to her voice.

By the tenth page, the yowling turned into whimpering. By the twentieth page the whimpering stopped. When she reached the fortieth page, Triumph had moved away from the corner and was ever so slowly making his way toward her. She had to fight the urge to stop and give him attention. His head was down. If she became excited, he might cower away again. She kept on reading until she reached the last page and Triumph was already sitting by the open door of the kennel, watching her with intent, intelligent eyes.

Her heart broke at the same time elation filled her inside. What Triumph must have gone through to feel the way he did. It was as if he didn’t trust people at all.

Gently, Sabrina closed the book and set it aside. She kept her breathing even as she reached out. This time she kept her hand open, palm up. If she was bitten then it was her price to pay. Instead, Triumph sniffed the tips of her fingers. He licked his nose then looked up at her. She smiled.

“Hi, buddy,” she said, almost a whisper. Her throat closed at the emotions clogging her chest. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

On and on she repeated those words until finally, Triumph bumped his head against her hand. It was the universal signal for “Pet me.” Sabrina’s heart soared. Triumph must have felt her elation too because his tail wagged. He leaned in to her touch, almost begging for more. Soon Sabrina was hugging the puppy close to her chest and sobbing silently.

***

After Sabrina managed to separate herself from Triumph, promising him doggie treats when she got back, she made her way to the Wakefield’s place. The mansion was located at the farthest corner of town. Quite a walk if her starting point was the Christmas fair at the town square. She welcomed the exercise. Knowing Mrs. Wakefield, she would have a feast waiting for everyone.

The hotel may be Chris’s first home, but when his parents weren’t traveling he spent most of his time inside the white colonial with its Grecian columns stretching two-stories. The house had a wide lawn out front and a long walkway. Despite a full stomach, Sabrina played hopscotch on the stones leading up to the red front door. A traditional wreath hung on it with red holly berries sprinkled all around.

Like the wreath, the Wakefields took a more traditional approach to their Christmas decorating. More garlands, less Santa’s on the front lawn. Their twinkle lights artfully lined windows. In Sabrina’s mind’s eye, she could already imagine the inside of the house way before she stepped through the doorway.

She rang the bell. Not five seconds later, the door opened. Chris—looking immaculate in a moss green sweater—reached out and pulled her inside.

“Hey! What’s with the manhandling,” Sabrina said, trying to sound indignant, but the sugar in her system kept her emotions at a happy-buzz mode.

“What took you so long?” Chris whisper-hissed her way, looking over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” She lowered her voice, glancing over Chris’ shoulder as well. All she saw was the center table at the foyer and on top of it was the exact same miniature version of the town, but with snow and a train running on a track around the perimeter. Beyond the table was a grand staircase that curled upward. There must have been more than twenty feet of actual pine garlands wrapping around the banister. It smelled divine. Fresh. Alpine. Christmas at its best.

“My parents may have gone a little overboard,” he said then sighed as if in resignation.

“Looks like the typical Wakefield Christmas from where I’m standing.”

Chris pitched the bridge of his nose with one hand and pointed toward the living room with the other. Sabrina rounded him to get a better look at whatever it was his finger indicated. The first thing she saw was the ten-foot balsam fir sitting to the side of the fireplace. It was devoid of any decorations.

“Besides the huge tree?” She sucked in her cheeks. “What am I supposed to see?”

Chris leveled his gaze at her. “I think you’re forgetting the most important part.”

“And what is that?”

He waited. And waited, pushing his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. Sabrina blinked, unsure what he meant. She looked from him to the tree then back again.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” she said after another ten seconds of not getting what Chris was trying to make her remember.

This time when he sighed his entire body seemed to shrink. “Who do you think gets to decorate that monster of a tree?”

Only then did the answer dawn on Sabrina. Over the years, it became sort of an unofficial tradition that she and Chris decorate the tree while Chris’s parents were busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. They were old school. They had an entire hotel kitchen at their disposal and a three Michelin star chef on the payroll, but still they insisted on doing all the cooking when at home. They may be the best absentee parents a kid could have.

“Holy puppy paws.” Sabrina turned her back on Chris and regarded the task before her. “That’s one huge ass tree. It takes at least five staff members at the hotel to decorate something that big.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Sabrina!” a female voice called from down the hall just as she and Chris took a step toward the living room.

Chris got all his looks from his mother. Same dark hair. Same bright eyes. The same way the corners of their lips curved up when they smiled. Where Chris was sweater vests and khakis, Mrs. Wakefield was Chanel, Chanel, Chanel. She engulfed Sabrina into a powerful embrace, enveloping her with more Chanel in the form of their famous No. 5 perfume. Sabrina didn’t mind. She went with it.

Behind Mrs. Wakefield was the blond Viking that was Chris’s father. How Chris was lanky and often times seeming awkward with his height, Mr. Wakefield was all muscle and confidence. If Chris Hemsworth turned down playing Thor, Chris’s father could have stepped into role without needing to buff up.

“Hello, Sabrina,” he greeted in that impossibly deep voice of his.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield,” she wheezed out.

“Let the girl go, Agatha,” Mr. Wakefield admonished. “She’s turning blue.”

“Come on, Mom,” Chris said. The tone of his voice took Sabrina back to when they were twelve. At that age it seemed like everything their parents did was embarrassing. The worst part was they seemed to do it on purpose.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Wakefield said, stepping back and clutching her pearls. “You know how much I’ve always wanted a little girl. To this day your mother refuses to let me adopt you.”

“I don’t know why,” Sabrina joked. “It’s like she loves me or something.”

“Well, you are like a daughter to me, you know that,” Mrs. Wakefield cooed. “I have gifts for you from Paris, my dear. Be sure to take them with you later.”

“I will,” she promised. Sabrina learned early on that it was futile to refuse the Wakefields. It was better to go with the flow, especially when gifts were involved because ten more would show up if you refused just one. Her mother was just as spoiled. The obscene yearly bonuses she got was what paid for Sabrina’s entire college education and then some.

“Okay, now you’ve seen her, can we start with the tree?” Chris said, clearly dreading the daunting task. He eyed his father with mock disdain. “You outdid yourself this year, Dad.”

Mr. Wakefield, aka Thor’s understudy, clapped his son on the shoulder and declared, “Consider this payback for not coming home. You have sixteen Christmases to make up for.”

“But a ten-foot tree? Really?”

“He was thinking of getting two trees,” his mom said. “But I talked him out of it.”

“Thanks, Mom.” There might be defeat in Chris’s tone but there was a loving twinkle in his eyes. Sabrina knew he was happy being with his parents again.

“You two go play. I have to check on my turkey.” Mrs. Wakefield shimmied back down the long hallway to the kitchen.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” Mr. Wakefield said.

Sabrina and Chris recited in unison, “Lights first. Garlands second. Tinsel third. And ornaments for last.”

“Very good.” There was a glimmer of pride in the Viking’s eyes before he turned to stomp after his wife.

“Turkey?” Sabrina whispered toward Chris as they stepped into the living room. Boxes and boxes of Christmas tree trimmings sat scattered all over the Persian rug at their feet.

“Plus, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pasta, roast beef, ribs.” He went on and on.

“It’s basically Thanksgiving.”

“I told you, overboard.” He took out a box cutter and opened the one marked Lights. “There’s so much food, you’d think an army will be eating.”

Sabrina reached in and pulled out a roll of lights. No need for detangling. She and Chris had a system. What Mr. Wakefield didn’t account for was despite the size of the tree it had nothing against how meticulous they were at decorating.

She plugged the lights into the socket. Only warm white light for the Wakefield tree. None of that red, blue, green stuff. The town’s color scheme may be red and gold, but the Wakefield tree remained ever the same. Beige. White. With a touch of gold and silver as accents. Their ornaments were antiques, handed down from Wakefield to Wakefield.

“Remember the year you accidentally broke an ornament?” Sabrina said, connecting the next line of lights to the first one she had already wrapped around the large base of the tree. The thing about balsam firs were that they were bottom heavy with a wide girth around the middle and tapering at the top. “We might run out of lights.”

“Dad bought new ones, anticipating this slave labor he’s putting us through.”

“You’re thirty-two and I’m almost thirty-two. Suck it up.”

“And don’t remind me. Grandma Wakefield threatened to write me out of the Will because of that. We never speak of the incident.”

Sabrina giggled. “Remind me, was it the elf?”

“It was the little drummer boy, and please.” He huffed. “A drumstick fell off and everyone was acting like I initiated the apocalypse.”

“You have to admit we’re handling ornaments older than everyone in this house combined.”

“I’m surprised they even let us near the stuff after that year.”

“I think they’re just lazy.”

Chris grinned. “I have to admit that I missed this.”

“Me too,” Sabrina said.

Their gazes met. There was a spark in that moment. A connection. Almost as if Sabrina touched a livewire for a split second.

“How’s Triumph?” he asked as a way to divert the tension she had no idea what to do with.

The smile on Sabrina’s face was bright and full of love. “He’s calmed down a bit. I read to him.”

“You did?”

“Yes, it calms the dogs down and helps them become more social with humans. We had a breakthrough. With a little more love and coaxing I think he’s going to be okay.”

“Do you think he’ll find a home?”

Her shoulders sagged. “It’s tough for dogs like him. People have this idea that a pet should be perfect. What they forget is that they are still animals and have animal ways. When a pet doesn’t meet whatever crazy expectation they have they abandon them. It’s heartbreaking.” She reminded herself not to get too attached. One thing she learned about working at the shelter was that the most important thing was finding them homes, not taking each and every one of them home. Although, she definitely would if she could.

“What’s the dream for the Animal Sanctuary now that you’re running it?”

She almost got teary-eyed at the reminder. “I want to expand. The Shady Acers property just went on the market. That’s the dream place with its wide, open space where the animals can run and roam. Besides me, there will be another on call vet and several assistants to lend a hand. I want to create a haven where these animals can live out their lives if they don’t get adopted.”

“It’s a good dream.” Chris reached out and squeezed her hand.

The contact was good and exactly what she needed. She squeezed back. Chris was the only one who believed her dream was possible. Everyone else she spoke about it immediately talked about the cost of putting something like that together. Sabrina would figure out a way.

When Chris let go of her hand in favor of grabbing another roll of lights, Sabrina was surprised by how lonely she felt afterward. She knew he would have to let go eventually because they were working, but she hadn’t been ready when it happened. This was a first for her. Enough for her to stare at her empty hand for a long second before a roll of lights was dropped into her palm, bringing her back to the present.

“The Christmas Hayride is tomorrow night,” Chris said casually.

Sabrina’s belly-full of hot chocolate dropped. “Troy already asked me.”

“Oh.” Chris’s shrug was a little too stiff. “That’s okay.”

“But,” she said.

Chris lifted his head immediately. “But?”

She raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I still don’t have a partner for the Christmas scavenger hunt in the afternoon.”