Page 138 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

“She’s not happy with the kitchen,” Sam says, jerking his head toward the crooked cabinet doors. “So we’re going to wait until Miller’s guys have done the renovations.”

“They’ll start next week.” And I’m worried they haven’t grasped how much mess there’ll be. “It could be a bit disruptive, what with them replacing the whole kitchen, both bathrooms, and all the windows. Also, I thought I could bring some painters in to give the whole place a quick refresh, if you like.”

Sam and Elsie look at each other, faces lit up.

“That would be fabulous, Miller,” she says. “Thank you.”

“I only wish you’d let me put you in a hotel while it’s done so you don’t have to live with the mess,” I say.

“Much easier to wake up here and beable to just walk out the door to let out the donkeys first thing in the morning,” Sam says.

“How about we see how it goes?” Frankie suggests, moving to answer a knock at the door. “We can always go to a hotel anytime it gets too annoying.”

She opens the door to reveal the smiling face of Aramis from the coffee shop.

He’s one of many locals who signed up in the new wave of sanctuary volunteers. The place is abuzz with them this Saturday morning. Some are mucking out, others grooming the donkeys, some doing general clean-up, and a mechanic from the car repair shop is in the barn trying to get the old tractor going. Frankie wants to use it for rides at the next big open day that she’s planning for spring.

All of this fresh energy stems from Frankie’s amazingly successful social media push and the Thanksgiving Day event—not to mention the valiant recruitment efforts by the woman I now know is local fixture Mrs. B.

“Morning,” Aramis calls past Frankie, waving to all of us at the table. “Just wanted to let you know the faucet in the main stable is dripping.”

Frankie laughs and looks at me. “Miller fixed that last time, so I’ll get him to take another look at it.”

“I might be more of a carpenter than a plumber,” I say, “but I’ve been around enough construction sites and renovations to know it probably needs a new washer. I’ll go to the hardware store later.”

“And thanks for bringing coffees for everyone this morning,” Frankie says, pointing at the cups in front of each of us. “The volunteers loved it.”

“My pleasure,” Aramis says. “Who could have known when you showed up in the coffee shop that morning withyour flyer that you’d end up being back here for good just a couple of months later?”

“Yeah.” Frankie turns to me, that look of deep love in her eyes that makes me the luckiest man in the world. “I never imagined it myself. It’s funny how things can turn out.”

As she says goodbye and closes the door, Sam jumps at the sound of his phone making aker-chingsound.

“Oh.” His face lights up. “Frankie put this app on my phone that lets me know every time someone donates, or sponsors a donkey, or buys an annual membership or something.”

“It’s linked to the website,” Frankie tells me.

“Look.” A beaming Sam shows his phone to Elsie, then turns it around to face us. “Someone bought a We Save Your Ass hoodie.”

“It is the best slogan in the history of slogans,” I declare.

“Grandma came up with it when I was a kid,” Frankie says.

“She was a very smart woman, from everything I’ve heard,” Elsie says.

Frankie and Sam look at each other and nod.

“I remember thinking I was super grown-up being allowed to use a bad word because it was part of our official motto.” Frankie giggles.

Now seems like the right time for my last bit of news.

“I’ve got one more thing to show you.” I reach for another rolled up plan that I hid earlier on the seat of the chair tucked under the end of the table. I’ve already had to subtly stop Thelma from jumping on it twice.

“Your love of architectural drawings knows no bounds,”Frankie says.

“They are a thing of beauty.” I stand up, unfurl it over the top of the house plans, and hold it down at the four corners with our Bearded Bean coffee cups.

“Is that…” Frankie stands up and leans over it so she can get a better look, her brow furrowed as she concentrates. “…our barn?”