Page 4 of A Hutch for Hoover

The rule of thumb while sorting was that if anything was broken beyond repair, it got tossed. I quickly learned they threw out a ton of things. And some were trash—there was no saving them. But others, with a little elbow grease and some energy, could become something great.

The first couple of items I brought home were lamps requiring rewiring and chip repair. I basically tried to return them to their glory days, nothing special. But from there, I got creative, moving on to all sorts of projects I marketed as upcycled and sold on the internet. Stayed away from clothes. I knew nothing about sewing. But small pieces of furniture, decorations—those I could use, for parts or to revitalize. After a long day of work, it was exactly what I needed to occupy myself and keep the loneliness at bay.

“There’s a new shipment out back.” My boss, Sam, greeted me at the door with a smile. “Looks like one of the crates was set down carelessly, and there’s a lot of broken pottery in there.” He knew the magic I could create with the broken chunks. I loved to piece it together to become other things or as jewelry. “Should be a good day.”

“Yeah, Sam, it should.” Sam never treated me differently because of my struggles. He understood that even with my aids, I didn’t always fully understand what was being said and would ask for clarification. He was patient when I asked him to repeat himself. Other than that, he treated me like the other staff members. I appreciated it.

I put my lunch in the little room we used for eating and storing our belongings and then went to the back and got lost in the work.

Sam had been right. It was a good day. I came upon some buttons that could be listed online for a really good price, which made my boss happy. Matching up some random pieces to complete sets of dishes increased their price. And, as promised, there was a lot of pottery that could be turned into jewelry.

This might not be the life I planned, but, aside from the loneliness, it was turning out to be pretty good.

I needed to take the next step and try to find some friends, possibly some shifters in the area. Connections were important, especially for my bunny.

My poor rabbit. The only time I ever let him out was in the apartment, not trusting myself to be able to keep him safe. Not without my hearing.

A high-pitched chirping in my ear startled me. Almost time to replace my hearing aid batteries. The audiologist tried to talk me into rechargeables, but if I couldn’t remember batteries, how was I going to remember to charge them?

It was perfect timing. I was going home. And, honestly? I was ready for the quiet.

Chapter Four

Grant

The complex where I lived was not only nicely appointed, comfortable, and had both a pool and a lazy river, but it was entirely populated with shifters and isolated enough that we could all be ourselves. It was not unusual for a fox to be curled up on a lounger by the pool or a bear to splash around in the shallows. Even a mountain lion surveying the greenspace below his balcony. My alpha dad always warned me against shifting where a human could see. Not everyone believed in shifters outside of novels, and even those who did were more likely to see an apex predator and panic or worse.

So, when I ventured forth from our pack lands, I’d believed I’d have to keep my wolf in check nearly all the time. Instead, thanks to Hannah, my beast had never been freer. He loved the lazy river and the pool, as well. Sometimes, looking at the crystal waters, I wondered what magic they employed to keep them so clean with all the furry creatures paddling around most evenings.

On this particular day, I had to be at the shop early, but my wolf wanted a run, so I rose at dawn and without even having to get dressed, walked out onto my porch and shifted. I loved my neighbors so much—they never even batted an eye. The desert could be a lot during the middle of the day, hotter than my beast enjoyed with his fur coat and sensitive paw pads, but as the sun climbed over the horizon, it was many degrees cooler than it would be later.

The availability of such open land for running had me out there more days than not. Funny, I’d always assumed my wolf loved forests—actually, he did—and had been concerned he’d hate the desert.

Instead, he regarded it as an open plain where he could leap over most obstacles instead of having to go around them. His sensitive nose found every source of water, so on days where we didn’t have to rush back to open the shop, we could run on until the heat drove him back, if it did. He could sate his thirst numerous places, always avoiding anything toxic or heavily saline.

A sandy, cactus-strewn wolf’s playground complete with tasty creatures for a snack along the way. This morning, however, we only had an hour or so, and when I arrived back at the apartment and placed my paw on the pad outside the door, it opened and we entered. The developers of this property really had shifters in mind when they built it. If I was in my skin, I could use my palm for entry with the pad next to the door, but they had cleverly added a means for an animal to use a paw or claw or whatever they had, to enter without having to shift back.

A quick shower, and I was on my way to the shop. From the day I made my first smoothie in my dads’ kitchen, this had been my goal, and now that I’d achieved it, my imagination had no limits. A second location in Phoenix was in the works, and if that went well, then further expansion would be next.

My once concern was how to make sure I kept a hands-on approach to the whole thing. Money was great, and I certainly had no objection to the security it brought, but unlike many entrepreneurs, I had no interest in building it up to sell. Franchising, possibly, because I could imagine it being a great option for other shifters who wanted a successful business where no humans were demanding credentials most did not have. They often stayed in their packs and floated along with no real plan because they didn’t know what else to do. I’d been fortunate to have dads who supported my goals, whether they kept me home with them or not. We had a truly loving home, and I didn’t leave because I felt unloved, but what I wanted to do required more.More schooling, my experience in business, more contact with the outside world. And in some cases, those who left would be named rogue and unwelcome to return, losing all the help their families would have offered if they could.

Fortunately, that situation was less common than it had been. It still came up from time to time, though.

Often homeschooled, with an education more suited to pack life than business, young pack members would require careful handling to help them get started and support from that point on. Of course, they’d need to be excited about the world’s best smoothies!

My day began with a surprise. Karma—theKarma—to whom I owed so much, arrived at the shop, accompanied by a couple of bear shifters who loomed over her protectively. “Cousins of my husband,” she introduced them. “What kind of smoothies, guys?”

While one of my counter staff prepared their drinks, Karma waved me aside. “I know you’re busy, but do you have a moment to talk?”

A moment to talk? I needed to spend an hour thanking her. But when I tried, she waved my gratitude aside. “I’m so glad you’re happy here. We needed a smoothie place in the neighborhood. My mate, Warren, is a huge fan, and when I leave, I’ll need to take him a couple.”

“Of course. On the house!”

“No, no. I would feel bad doing that.”

“Then, can we make you one for while we talk?”

“Only if you let me pay. Do you have something with strawberry and mango?”

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