Page 10 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

“I’m looking for a new place to settle.” I will never leave Boston. “Traveling around, digital-nomading for a while.” Being away from the office might kill me. “And Warm Springs might be a good option.” I’d suffocate here. “So thought I’d hang out for a while. Get a feel for the area.” And I’ll be on the road as soon as she’s signed my offer.

“What do you do that makes it so easy to work remotely?” she asks as three donkeys in the field ahead spot us and meander toward the fence to meet us.

“Investments.” Another answer I came up with on the way here.

I mean, it’s technically true. But if she wants to infer I mean stocks, bonds and trading, rather than constructing fifty-story luxury condo buildings that become home to some of Boston’s most famous residents, I can’t help that.

But spinning her an untrue story doesn’t exactly feel good. Time to shift the questions to her. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“I was?—”

Her response is cut short when she breaks into laughter at the sound of frantic braying. Is that what donkeys do, bray? It’s coming from a brown donkey that’s running full speed from the far side of the enclosure toward us.

“That’s Waldo,” Frankie says, picking up her pace to greet him as he crashes between his more sedate friends.

He reaches the fence at the same time as us, ears back, eyes half closed, his sounds now virtually orgasmic. “I spent a lot of time with him when he arrived here all sad and neglected about eleven years ago.” She grabs his face with both hands and rubs her forehead against his. “And he’s never forgotten. He’ll still play a chase-me game with me if I go in there and run around.”

“You live here then?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

I rest my foot on the bottom rail of the fence and it immediately collapses, making the donkeys jump as much as I do.

“Nope,” she says, as I bend down to lift the rail back into its slot.

“It’s my grandpa’s house,” she continues. “The whole sanctuary is his, really. I mean, he made me joint owner as a college graduation present nine years ago. So technically it’s mine too. But he runs everything day-to-day. I live in Chicago now.”

“That’s a weak joint and won’t hold for long.” I point at where I’ve balanced the rail precariously in place. “Fences are better with metal brackets that don’t rot.”

She eyes me like she’s surprised—pleasantly surprised.Maybe these days I don’t give the impression of being particularly practical, even in my shiny new farm attire.

“A lot of things around here need a lot of attention. Are you handy with fixing things as well as looking after animals?” She turns to the donkeys who approached us at a more leisurely pace and are now gathered around. “I’ve only been back a couple of days and I’ve come across a bunch of little issues. Nothing major. Leaky faucets, other bits of broken fencing, the gutters on everything need clearing. Basically, the whole place needs some general care.”

“Sounds right up my alley.” And that’s not totally far-fetched. It already feels like it might be surprisingly good to get my hands dirty again after more than a decade behind a desk.

Frankie pets the donkeys in turn.

“I haven’t been back as often as I should lately.” Her voice sounds wistful, and rich with regret.

“Anyway.” She gives Waldo a kiss on the nose, her lips puckering and pressing hard into his fur, then starts to move away. “This is the main paddock. There are ten donkeys in here at the moment. There were twelve but two were adopted by a family with a lot of land in Connecticut just before I arrived. I was extra sad not to see Mabel when I got here. But Grandpa says she and Minnie have a great new home.”

“Where do you get them from in the first place?”

“Usually they’ve either been surrendered by owners who can’t care for them anymore for one reason or another, or the owner’s passed away and their relatives can’t keep them. And sometimes we get neglect cases where the animals have been seized by authorities. Waldowas one of those.”

I follow her toward a smaller enclosure farther along the path.

“We always want to find new homes for them. But all these are long-term residents who need special care for various reasons and will likely see out their days here.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Those ten full-sized ones, and seven miniatures over here.”

“Seventeen seems like a lot of donkeys to me.” Since I’d never met a single one until a minute ago.

“We have capacity for about thirty. Could take more if we had funds for another paddock and barn.”

The residents of the next field come into view. “Whoa, these are tiny.” They’re about the height of a Saint Bernard.

“Ha, yeah.” Frankie crouches down to reach through the fence and pet the animals that come trotting over. “They’re so little when they’re foals that some people think they can keep them in their houses. Then they’re surprised when the cute little thing grows up, poops everywhere, and they can’t.”