Fixed by L. A. Kornetsky Page A

supposed to be playing eager supporters. It was all vaguely terrifying.
    Still, they had gotten at least a glimpse of the professional, responsible Nora, the one they’d seen with Ms. Snyder. He was going to trust that one, rather than the nervous Nellie who had approached them in Mary’s. The girl was green, nervous in unrehearsed situations, but she wasn’t dumb or ditzy. He was less convinced about the dreadlocked receptionist, who had plastic daises on her desk and dotted her blotter with little hearts and flowers. What was she, twelve? Still, she had responded smartly to Georgie’s immediate distrust, and he had no reason to believe that she couldn’t do her job.
    Then again, as Ginny would probably remind him, they had no reason to believe she wasn’t a thief, either.
    The receptionist had them each sign the copy of their license, back and front, and then handed the cards back to them. “All set!”
    Nora took Ginny’s arm and led her off to the left, probably assuming that Teddy would follow, without thanking the receptionist or—Teddy noticed after the fact—ever introducing them. “Come on, let me show you the kennels. It’s early yet, well before our normal adoption hours, so you get to see them when they’re all cute and sleepy! It’s okay, Georgie can stay here, she looks too comfortable to disturb, and it’s not a good idea to bring other dogs into the kennel anyway, even if she’s been there before.”
    Teddy was still putting his license back into his wallet and heard a faint sniff from behind him, as though the receptionist had her own ideas about what Nora had said but wasn’t going to say them out loud. Interesting.
    Georgie lifted her head slightly to see where her human was going, but when Ginny made a palm-down gesture with her hand that apparently reassured her, she went back to contemplating the carpet, her nose resting on her paws. The other dog let out a woof, and the receptionist reached into a jar on her desk and tossed them each a small biscuit, landing them a few inches away from their noses. Teddy was impressed with her accuracy.
    â€œTonica, come on!” Ginny was standing in the now-open doorway, looking back at him impatiently. He left Georgie to her snack and hurried to join them.
    He wasn’t sure what he had expected, when he passed through the door—a metal-core fire door, from the weight of it—and heard it snick shut behind him. Something like a pet shop, maybe, with cages and shelves. Instead they were in a small foyer, this one much smaller than the main lobby, with two hallways leading off in parallel, he assumed running the remaining length of the building. One had DOGS painted above the doorway in blue, the other CATS in green.
    â€œNo mingling of the species?” he asked, half joking.
    â€œOh, no, not every animal is comfortable with the other,” Nora said, taking him seriously. “We try to keep them isolated in their sleeping areas, for maximum comfort and minimum stress. The socialization rooms give themenough time to interact, in a neutral area.” It was clearly a rehearsed speech, and she presented it with the same serious mien she had used with her boss. He wondered briefly which one was real: the flustered hesitant young woman, or the professionally poised one. Both, probably.
    A middle-aged woman came out from the CATS door and stopped, clearly surprised to see anyone else there.
    â€œBeth, hi. This is Ginny, and Teddy. They’re here to look at the facilities. Can you show them around? I need to get back to the paperwork.” And, Teddy suspected, smooth things over with her boss.
    â€œUm, sure.” Beth didn’t look all that thrilled to be handed two strangers, suddenly, but when Nora waved a chirpy “bye-bye” and left, she took them in hand with reasonable grace.
    â€œYou’re early. Some of the animals aren’t at their best first