A bit later, Lindsey came over, and so did Mitch, Tina, Susan and Russ. The barbecued ribs and veggie burgers were tasty, conversation was light, silly jokes were exchanged.

But, enjoyable though it was, the evening ended early.

CARLY WAS IN a constant, if low-level, state of anxiety about the coming DNA results, but knew there was nothing—nothing!—she could do to hurry them along.

That aside, things were going well. She was in her first full year at the county high school, and to use a favorite saying of Reba’s, so far, so good. She and Lindsey were both in the eleventh grade, same home room, and Eric Worth was in twelfth—repeating it, since he’d dropped out the previous year. Thankfully, none of his companions in crime were at the school anymore. With Shallie and Susan’s guidance, the pet support group had been officially registered as Montana Pet Support, MPS for short. Better than PMS, as Carly had said, and that became a popular joke—among the girls, anyway. In fact, she sometimes wondered if the guys even got it.

With Tina’s help and again Shallie’s, Carly had assumed the role of administrator. “Good for your résumé,” one of her new teachers said. But it provided a lot more than that.

They had several additional clients now—and clients was the term they used, although of course no money changed hands. One was a friend of Meg. Sandra had suffered a serious fall and lacked mobility. She had a beagle she adored—Holly the Second!—but this one was an older boy named Tex. Like Holly, he, too, was the sweetest little creature, and Carly fell instantly in love.

And there was Miles Carey’s elderly father-in-law, who insisted on preserving his independence by living in a small apartment above a store on Main. His dog, a midsize part-Lab rescue named Linc, needed regular walks. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Eric had taken that on. He went over every weekday morning before school, and the old man’s grandkids did the other shifts.

A third new client was a single mom, Alexa, with three-year-old twins; she needed assistance with her five (five!) cats.

Four MPS “clients” so far…

Susan Robbins was spreading the word, via a blog she’d done, posters in the small library, conversations with patrons.

And that odd but nice guy, Russ—Shallie’s cousin or whatever—had said he’d help with transportation or anything MPS needed.

The program was gaining a strong reputation. Shallie, Cord, Tina, Eli, J.P., everyone seemed to congratulate her constantly.