A bell on the door clanged. I looked toward the entrance, waved at a mom and her daughter in matching headbands, and latched the cage closed. The cat inside immediately squawked in protest. Down the hall, a dog barked as a volunteer opened the door to the kennels.

“You’re fine,” I said. I reached a finger in to scratch the cat’s head, then left the glassed-in room, sanitizing my hands as I went.

The woman waited patiently at the front desk. Her daughter didn’t share her mom’s composure. She was at the gangly age between childhood and adolescence and bobbed up and down on her toes like she was about to jump the gun at a race.

“Good morning,” I said. “You guys are here bright and early.”

“It’s cat day,” her mom said, deadpan. “I said she could get a cat when she turned ten. She is now ten.”

The girl tugged on her mom’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Her mom cleared her throat and nodded at me. I bit back a grin and pushed a bottle of hand sanitizer toward the girl.

“I’m going to need you to sanitize your hands before we go in,” I said. “And then between every room. Let’s go back to the animals and you can tell me what kind of kitty you think you’d like.”

“Not a kitty,” the girl said firmly, grabbing the bottle and squirting way too much onto her palm. Her mom grabbed her hand and took the excess before it could spill to the floor. “Adult cats have a harder time getting adopted. So do black cats. Do you have any adult cats that are black?”

I stopped bothering to hide my smile.

“I think I have someone you’re going to love,” I said.

An hour later, Coco had gone home with her overexcited new human. Coco would be happy there; she was a high-energy, talkative older cat and the girl, Madison, had fallen instantly and deeply in love with her dark fur and curious green eyes.

I sank into my seat behind the desk and pulled up the volunteer roster. We had more volunteers than I’d ever expected; apparently plenty of the retired people who lived here year-round were thrilled that an animal shelter had finally opened and were happy to donate time and as many bags of pet food as I could store, especially if it meant they had fewer neighborhood strays getting into catfights at two in the morning.

I printed the new roster and clipped it up behind the desk. The header, Alpine View Animal Shelter, still filled me with a sense of pride that felt like it could make me burst.

This had all come together faster than I could have imagined, and now, just under a year since Santa had dropped me off at my apartment late Christmas Eve, we had a building, a small board of trustees, a few generous donors, and as many pets as we could care for.

It wasn’t a full-time job, of course, but knowing I’d be here every Wednesday and Saturday did make stocking shelves s little bit easier. I was still in my terrible apartment, I still hadn’t met a special someone, and my student loans still made me feel trapped if I thought about them too long. Sometimes animals got sick, or couldn’t find homes, or were unlucky enough to be surrendered by the kind of humans who never should have been allowed to adopt them in the first place.

But I had worked and begged and risked to create this place, and today, I had sent Coco home with a girl who loved her.

I pulled the antler necklace out from under my shirt. My reindeer would be proud.

The doorbell rang, and a gust of cool November air swept into the room with the smell of decaying leaves. I looked up, ready to accept a pet or find one a home, then froze.

“Hey,” he said.

It took a few seconds for the world to get back to speed, and then I clambered out from behind the desk and threw my arms around him.

“Felix!”

He looked ridiculous in skinny jeans and a hoodie, but there was no mistaking that sharp face or those mischievous eyes. I squeezed him as hard as I could, only giving him space to breathe when he coughed dramatically.

“What are you doing here?”

“Pre-Christmas sweeps,” he said. “Updating the sleigh’s maps, making sure it’s tuned up for long distances, running over innocent grocers…”

It was a sunny, blue-sky morning outside. I craned my neck to look through the glass door.

“Where are the reindeer?”

He laughed. “They’re hiding in the forest with Avery for the day.”

“Avery?”

“New driver,” Felix said. “Just started at the Workshop. She’s good, but we’re taking it slow.”

“But, like, where in the forest?”

He rolled his sparkling eyes at me. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see them. When are you free?”

“At three,” I said. “I get off here and then I promised I’d get lunch with my neighbor.”

“Ooh,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Lunch, huh?”

“Her name’s Eloise and she’s eighty-three. Speaking of old people, how’s Santa?”

“Jolly.”

“Mary?”

“Obsessed with Downton Abbey.”

“You?”

“Really happy to see you.”

“Come meet my critters.”

I took his hand and pulled him toward the cat room. He stopped and spun me around, his eyes darting around and taking in every inch of my face.

“What?”

A slow grin spread across his features, awakening dimples at the corners of his lips.

“She’s not relentlessly negative about everything all the time,” he said.

I gently slapped his cheek, winked, and dragged him back to see my world.