“Big mouth much,” Angi muttered.

“To appease her mom and his grandma.” Mariella looked up toward the tin tile ceiling. “Rest her soul.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Angi crouched down to pet the dog. “Who’s this little guy?”

“That’s Princess,” Meredith said, humor lacing her tone. “She belonged to an older gentleman who wasn’t able to care for her. When she came to us, her fur was pretty matted and her teeth were in bad shape. She’s almost eight, which isn’t especially old for a Yorkie mix, but she needed some TLC and work on her manners.”

The dog turned her head and politely licked Angi’s hand, as if thanking her for the attention. “I think she has wonderful manners,” Angi said. Andrew would love a dog like this. He’d love any dog. When Emma had adopted her labradoodle, Ethel, over the summer, Andrew had spent hours playing with the sweet animal in the inn’s big backyard.

Every kid should have a dog or cat or something to love and help take care of. Angi’s old apartment hadn’t allowed pets, and her mom had never wanted animals in the house.

Her son was stuck wishing and hoping for something he’d never get.

Just like Angi.

Except she could have a dog. Her mother might not like it, but there were plenty of things her mom didn’t approve of in Angi’s life at the moment. And if Bianca was so against it, Angi could rent a place of her own, one that took pets.

As she continued to stroke the animal’s small head, her heart seemed to expand in her chest. “Is she available?” She glanced up at Meredith to find the woman staring at her with a speculative stare.

“When I brought Ethel around the first time, you were riding on the no-pet bandwagon,” Meredith reminded her. “Remember that dogs are a big commitment, even a mature one like Princess. Yorkies can live into their teens. This isn’t something you do on a whim.”

Angi’s face heated. She knew Meredith’s job was to protect the animals that came to her shelter, but it stung to be told outright that she might not be a good fit. “It’s not a whim.”

“It’s a distraction,” Mariella offered, not very helpfully in Angi’s opinion. “Do you have a question about sizes?” she called to a younger woman who’d walked in while Angi was petting Princess. “I can help with that.”

Angi straightened as Mariella moved toward the customer. “It’s not a whim,” she repeated, meeting Meredith’s assessing gaze. “Or a distraction. I haven’t shown much strength in making my own decisions or acting like an adult lately.”

Meredith’s features gentled. “You’re taking care of your mom, rocking the single mom deal, running the family business and helping at the inn. Tell me what’s more adulting than basically holding down four full-time jobs?”

“Not a lot, but I’m kind of failing at all of them. I’m letting what other people want or need dictate my choices. I’d like to choose something for myself.” She smiled down at the animal. “I choose Princess.”