Page 45 of Smoky Mountain K-9

Mara sat down and folded her hands on the desk.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. I didn’t want to write such a large check without seeing your operation first.” Constance’s gaze traveled around the room.

“I completely understand. I’m happy I could accommodate your schedule. What would you like to do first? Go over the business side of our operation or see it in action?”

“Since we’re in here, why don’t we go over the business side first?”

“Of course.” Mara sat up and reached for the press kit she kept handy for all potential donors. “So, you were a little vague on the phone. What made you want to donate to us?”

“My husband loved to ride. I’ve been struggling with what to do with his life insurance money since he passed away several years ago. We didn’t have any children. We were only married less than a year when he died.”

“Oh.” Mara’s heart lurched. “I’m so sorry. I lost my husband too. Three years ago, to a car accident. I know how you feel.”

Ms. Miller took a tissue from the box on Mara’s desk and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry.” She offered Mara a rueful smile. “I told myself doing this wouldn’t make me cry. Kyle’s been gone a long time. But it’s hard, though, you know? Little things make me think of him.”

Mara nodded. She knew exactly what the woman meant.

“Anyway,” Constance waved a hand. “Enough of my melancholy. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Of course.” Mara opened the folder and turned it so Ms. Miller could see, then went over the information inside. The woman asked several pertinent questions before they were finished.

“Your program sounds wonderful. I think I’d like that tour now.”

“Certainly.” Mara stood and led her down the hall to the arena and stables. They wandered through the facility while Mara pointed out different things and told her about the classes they conducted and the types of therapy they offered. Once they finished the tour, they returned to Mara’s office.

“I must say, I’m impressed with this facility. It’s clean, well-run, and both riders and horses seem like they’re having a good time. Kyle would approve.”

“Thank you, Ms. Miller.”

“Call me Constance, please.” She sat down in the guest chair and picked up her purse, opening it to rummage inside. She pulled out a checkbook.

“Wait. You’re writing the check now?” Mara frowned. Most donations of her size came through an attorney’s office and there was pomp and circumstance involved.

Constance’s brow furrowed. “Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Mara rounded her desk and sat down. “We usually do some sort of media op. You know, we invite some reporters who take pictures and then write up a story, showing everyone your generosity.”

“Oh, I don’t need any of that. If you want to put Kyle’s name on a plaque and hang it up, that would be fine, but there’s no need for any grand gesture.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.” Constance plucked a pen from the cup on Mara’s desk. “Now, who do I make this out to?”

Flabbergasted, Mara named the equestrian center. Constance scrolled the information across the check face—along with an eye-popping sum—then tore the check out and handed it to her.

“Thank you so much for your generosity, Ms. Miller. We’ll definitely get that plaque made, honoring his memory. Would you like to have a ceremony for that?”

Constance pursed her lips. “Maybe.”

“Well, how about I call you when it comes in, and we’ll decide then?”

“That sounds good.” She stuffed her checkbook into her purse and rose. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I trust you’ll put the funds to good use.” She held out a hand.

Mara stood, a bit confused by the woman’s abrupt departure. She shook Constance’s hand. “Of course. I’ll be sure to let you know how we use it.”

“Great.” Constance released Mara’s hand. “I look forward to seeing that plaque.” With a wave of her fingers, she exited the office.

A little out of sorts, Mara stared after her. That was weird. She glanced down at the check. Really weird. No one had ever handed her a check for a hundred grand with such indifference. Like it didn’t matter. Even Brooke, who threw around cash like it was notebook paper, showed more regard for how she spent her money than Constance Miller.