Ruby gave in with another sigh. After an eight-hour shift that Harry had eked out to nine, her feet hurt and she wanted nothing more than to head home, but she was determined to make some headway with the golden retriever. Hanging out with Spencer and his friends at the barbecue last week had been more enlightening than she’d expected—and not just because she’d been pretty sure, for a moment there, he was going to kiss her. She’d also noticed that even though Spencer hadn’t done anything to help her train Wheezy, he hadn’t done anything to stop her, either.

“I’ll make your bed, but only if I can tell my mother that you’re an obscenely wealthy widow whose favor I’m courting in hopes of getting in your will,” Ruby said. She pointed a warning finger at Mrs. Orson. “If she calls you—and don’t be surprised if she does—you have to swear to back up my claim.”

Mrs. Orson blinked up at her, not the least bit offended. “Would you like all my money when I’m gone, Ruby? You can have it.”

Ruby’s whole body gave a jerk. “What? No—no, Mrs. Orson. It was a joke. I would never ask you to do that.”

“I’d always intended to leave it to the big hospital that takes care of the kids with cancer, but if you need it more than them, it’s only a quick call to my lawyer.”

“Mrs. Orson, please don’t change your will.” Ruby gave up on both Wheezy and the bed to turn her full attention on the older woman. She looked so tiny and frail, her five-foot frame swathed in a fringed shawl that swept the floor, that Ruby’s heart gave a lurch. “Not for me, and not for anyone. It doesn’t matter how much they say they need it or what they offer you in return. Promise me you won’t make any changes without talking to someone first.”

“There’s no need to yell at me, dear. It’s not as if I can take my savings with me.”

Ruby hadn’t been yelling, but the prospect of Mrs. Orson allowing herself to be taken financial advantage of was enough to get her started. There were too many unscrupulous people in this world—and on the retirement community’s payroll—for her to be comfortable leaving things where they were.

“Don’t you have someone who can advise you about these things?” she asked. “A niece or nephew, maybe, or a trusted family friend?”

Mrs. Orson stared at her for a long moment before sighing and shaking her head. “You sound just like my husband. He always used to worry about me, too.”