by Edie Ramer
“This arrangement seemed to be working so well. I thought—”
“You may have thought a lot of things, but you haven’t told me any of it.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Can you take care of her?”
She stared at him, her mouth rebellious, which wasn’t a good sign. “We’re getting an investor. I’ll be busy finding a new place to make the furniture. I’ll need to hire people. An IT person. A marketer. A—”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t go with him.” He spoke with his voice low so Cara wouldn’t hear him in Grace’s bedroom...and so Abby wouldn’t hear the torture in his voice. “I talked to Portia last night.”
She raised her eyebrows, clearly not impressed.
“Sam had told her that your angel is Simon Finbar,” he went on, feeling like a clumsy elephant about to be jumped on by a sleek lion. “I know Simon. He’s a womanizer.”
“A what?”
“You know. A horndog.”
Her eyebrows went up, but she didn’t say anything.
“Ask Portia. She’ll tell you he put the moves on her, too.”
She crossed her arms. “Apparently Portia and I have had the same experience with more than one man.”
He grimaced. “I deserve that.”
“I’ve had men make passes at me before, and I know how to say no.” Her eyes narrowed. “If I want to.”
“Abby—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “You don’t get to warn me about other men. Not after what happened last week.”
“I didn’t handle it well.”
“Whatever you’re thinking of saying, don’t. In the first place, I don’t have to be handled. In the second place—”
“I was stupid. We were going too fast, and I just wanted to take it slower. But I didn’t want to stop it.”
“You don’t seem to know what you want. I can’t handle your indecision. I want a man who knows what he wants.”
“I do know. I want you.”
“That’s what you’re saying now, but how do I know what you’ll say tomorrow?”
“I’ve been saying it all week.”
“That’s funny. I didn’t hear you say anything.”
“I didn’t say it.” He heard the torture in his voice. “I showed you how I felt. With the paintings.”
She put her hand over her mouth. Instead of looking pleased, she looked stunned, as if he’d socked her in her belly.
He put his hand on the side of her face, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “Give me another chance.”
She stepped back from him, crossing her arms again. “You’re right. It was too fast. Maybe we can...see each other again. But not now. Now I have to...” She sucked in her lips and looked away. “Concentrate on my business. This is something I’ve been working for, hoping for. And maybe Simon’s not the ideal person to go with.”
“Because he’s a horndog,” he said.
Her laugh sounded choked. “I told you I can handle that. It’s because of the terms he wants. It’s more than Sam and I wanted to give a backer. Sam and I will talk about it again today, but I don’t think we can say no. We might never get this chance again.”
“Yes, you can. With me.”
“What?” Her eyes widened.
“We have an empty building.” He laughed and gestured toward the office. “We could rent you the space and equipment.”
“We can’t afford it.”
“I can afford it.”
She took another step back. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I’m not proposing this out of lust for you. I’ve seen your work. I believe in your business. And I know your passion. Ryan does, too. He’s the one who originally thought of this.”
“Really? When was this?”
“Last week.”
“And you’re first mentioning this to me now?” She crossed her arms again.
“I should just take off my shoe,” he said, wincing, “and shove it in my mouth and keep it there.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “When Ryan said it, I knew how I felt about you already. I was engaged, and if I was around you all the time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to...” He stopped, watching her face freeze more with every syllable. “Nothing I can say will make this better, will it?”
“No.”
“I didn’t pull back because I wasn’t sure about my feelings. I was unsure about yours.”
“Then you should ask me.”
“Maybe now, but you don’t know me.” His throat closed up, but he swallowed, opening it. If he wanted to move forward—and he did—there were things that needed to be said. “No one has loved me in my life. Not my parents, not my grandparents, not my first wife, not Portia.”
Her lips parted, her face stricken. “None of that’s your fault.”
He wanted to touch her but held back. “I thought maybe we could do this slowly—”
She gave a laugh that held tears. “Too late for that.”
Once again, his throat closed, and he swallowed again. “I’m not sorry.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t want to lose you. I have to say it now. I’m crazy about you.”
“Or just crazy,” she said.
She was breaking his heart, but he wanted to laugh. “I’ve been too sane for too many years,” he said. “Maybe it’s time I went a little crazy.”
Her eyes moistened again. “And I’ve been too crazy for too many years, and maybe it’s time I started to think like you do. Maybe we should take it slow. And I don’t know if I should mix business and pleasure.”
“You haven’t seen what I could offer you.”
Her gaze flicked down then up. “Oh, I thought I’d seen everything you had to offer.”
Cara’s laughter came from down the hall. He peered over Abby’s head, and as Abby turned, too, Grace’s laughter joined Cara’s, but neither showed in the hall. When Abby turned back to him, he could see the softening in her mouth and eyes. He felt the same melting feeling inside him.
“Cara,” he said. “I can offer you Cara.”
She sucked in a breath, and her face scrunched. “You don’t play fair. Let’s just keep this about business. Don’t make it personal. Not now.”
The knotted muscles in his shoulders loosened. Not now meant later. It meant possibilities. That’s all he needed right now. All he could hope for.
“Okay, let’s keep it to business. Eagleton Furniture would be a good fit with your company. Though our products are aimed at different end users, think of the promo possibilities. A ‘buy US furniture’ campaign isn’t news, but ‘buy US cat and people furniture’ is. That combo would make the news. That would be something that people would talk about. The publicity alone will make it a gold mine.”
A line creased her forehead. “I don’t know... You could be right.”
He opened his mouth then shut it. He needed to let her work it out herself.
“It would be something that even the talk shows would mention,” she said slowly. “We could make videos showing the cat furniture with cat customers next to the people furniture with people sitting on them.”
As she talked, he pictured it in his mind.
Her head cocked slightly downward, her eyebrows contracting as she said, “Send me an email with everything you’re offering and what you want in return. I’ll forward it to Sam. I told Simon we’d tell him yes or no by Monday. I’ll tell you by Monday, too.”
Another peal of Cara’s laughter came from Grace’s room. Abby closed her eyes tight. Seconds later she opened them, and her gaze burned into his. “Bring Cara with you on Monday. I’ll work out something with Grace and pay her for the hours she spends with Cara. When Cara’s more secure and confident, you can find a good daycare facility. She told Grace that she’s her first friend. She needs to interact with children her own age.”
Emotion filled him, hopeful
ness mixed with sadness that people who had no family relationship with Cara were the ones who were concerned about making her happy. “You’re pretty wonderful.”
“I’m fabulous.” She laughed a little wildly. “I’ve been fostering kittens for three years. A child deserves the same care as a cat.”
“What about me?” he asked. “What do I deserve?”
“From me?” She raised her eyebrows. “An answer on Monday. I think you should leave now. Your boss won’t like it if you’re late to work.”
He laughed harshly, turned, and left.
***
With Cara in the house, Minnie’s naps were disturbed more often during the day than before she’d come into their lives. First she’d been like a small mouse who squeaked once in a while, as if afraid to make too much noise. But now she was noisier, like a regular human child.
If Minnie really wanted to, she could find a perch to nap on, a place where no one could find her. But the days were more interesting with Cara in the house. There was more laughter and noise and less quiet. Minnie didn’t always like noise, but she liked happy noises.
Today Cara and Grace were chattering. Only Mom was quiet, but no one seemed to notice except Minnie.
And no one seemed to notice the strain in Mom’s voice when Cara’s dad came to the house just before it was time for the humans to eat. Not even Quigley and Lion.
They only noticed the way he looked at Mom, as if she were a piece of tuna and he wanted to snap her up before any other man got a whiff of her.
They only noticed the mating smell.
Humans weren’t much different from cats and dogs, Minnie thought.
When Mom hugged Cara goodbye, she smelled of sadness.
After much reflection, Minnie came to a decision. There were two ways Mom could go—the wrong way or the right way.
Minnie would have to make sure she would go the right way.
If Minnie saw a kitten teetering on the top of a perch, hesitating over jumping down, Minnie would give the kitten a push. Not out of meanness to see her tumble down to the floor—though that was always amusing—but jumping down was what cats were meant to do. It was the right thing to do.
And if she didn’t push Mom off the perch, she might end up doing the wrong thing.
But Minnie couldn’t do it alone.
She tackled Quigley first. Of course, he said yes, eager to prove his prowess.
Lion was next. They needed Lion. Though Minnie didn’t like to admit it, Lion had a better sense of smell than she had. Of course, her hearing and brainpower were superior. But for this adventure, she needed Lion.
She told him if they didn’t do it, Mom would get hurt.
Lion didn’t ask why; he just said yes.
Dogs were so easy.
Now all they needed to do was to watch for a chance to escape....
24
Mom screamed at them to come back. The screen door hadn’t quite closed when she’d gone outside to dig in the patch of dirt she called a garden. Mom wasn’t as vigilant about making sure the door caught now that Quigley and Lion were older. Minnie had no desire to go outside. Outside had bad things—dogs that wanted to eat her, cars that wanted to run her over, and people who wanted to hurt her. It had no water, no food, no people to pet her and tell her how wonderful she was.
Indoors had everything good—soft places to curl up on, warmth in winter, coolness in summer, food and water, hugs and kisses.
Unlike her, Quigley had always been an indoor cat, and he didn’t know what it was like to go outside.
Lion would go outdoors, but he did whatever Mom said, even when he didn’t wear the leash.
Not now, though. Now they ran, their hearts thumping too fast. With her superior hearing, Minnie could hear the pounding of all three hearts, hear their fast breaths and their paws hitting the grass and then the click of their nails against the hardness of the sidewalk and a duller click when they ran onto the street.
And she could hear Mom’s shouts, hear her fear and her desperation.
Brakes squealed, a horn hooted, the sounds hurting Minnie’s ears. They reached the other side of the street, and Mom’s cries to them grew more frantic. Quigley was at Lion’s side, and Minnie was just behind them. Quigley and she could easily outrun Lion, but they needed him to guide them with his nose.
Right now, Minnie could smell the remnants of fumes from Holden’s car, but she knew the trail was stronger to Lion’s nose.
Finally they were far enough away from home to hear Mom’s calls only faintly. They still ran, but not as fast, when a growl stopped them. Two dogs stood on the sidewalk, facing them. They both had the widest jaws Minnie had ever seen and the biggest teeth. And the way the dogs faced them, with meanness in their eyes, it looked as if they wanted to use their big teeth to bite them.
She, Quigley, and Lion stopped.
The two dogs snarled.
Dinner, the dog nearest the grass said with a growl.
Dessert, the dog nearest the road said with a louder growl.
Minnie’s claws extracted. She didn’t look at Quigley but knew his did, too.
Get out of our way, Quigley said.
Lion looked at the dogs. You heard the cat.
The dogs growled more deeply, their muscles bunching, their bodies preparing to attack.
Minnie jumped, landing on the back of the dog nearest the street. In the time it took him to yowl, she’d reached down and clawed his muzzle, missing his eye by a hair.
He yipped in pain and shook her off. The other dog, a female, yipped, too, as Quigley copied her moves. Minnie was about to jump on the dog’s back again when Lion bit his flank then turned to the other.
But the other dog was already running away from them, blood dripping from her claw-torn ear.
Their breaths harsh, they watched the dogs disappear behind the back of a house. Then they ran along the sidewalk again, away from the smell of fresh blood.
Did you see me? Quigley asked. I’m a warrior.
We’re all warriors, Minnie said, picturing the bleeding muzzle of the male dog.
Her heart was beating even faster than before. The scent of blood was still on her claws, and she felt...alive. All her senses working at their highest level.
They hadn’t run long when Lion slowed at a corner. Minnie had lost the exhaust smell blocks ago, and alarm knifed through her. Did you— she began, when Lion interrupted her.
The car turned here. He ran in the opposite direction of the center of the city.
As the blocks went by, their pace slowed, and Lion panted. They never stopped, though, still in a half run.
There’s water ahead, Lion said, speeding up again.
Minnie smelled the water as they reached the next block. She remembered the smell from when she was little. Its scent was different from the water Mom gave her. It smelled like earth and leaves as well as water.
As they reached a house much bigger than Mom’s, Lion slowed, panting harder now, his body heaving. There was a leafy tree on the side of the house not far from her.
He’s here, Lion said. So are Cara and Epic.
He didn’t have to tell Minnie that. She smelled them already.
Lion plopped down in the shade of the tree. Quigley followed the smell of water. Minnie couldn’t see the water, but she could smell that it was close. Instead of following him, she rubbed her mouth against Lion’s face, her way of thanking him.
Only then did she go to the back of the house where the land sloped downward. She half-slid, half-dashed down it then stepped delicately into the water with the bugs and the little pieces of dirt, twigs, and leaves. Quigley was already drinking, and she lowered her head and lapped the cold water.
She was still lapping when Lion joined her and Quigley. He stepped deeper into the lake, splashing her and Quigley as he passed them. They protested, but not too loudly. After all, he’d led them here.
After they drank their fill, they collapsed on the grassy edge. It felt safe here.
No cars, no people, no other animals except the birds—and they kept their distance from the three of them. Minnie’s stomach was still full. Knowing she was leaving the house, she’d eaten more of her dry food than usual, as had Quigley.
Of course, cats were hunters, and they could find their own food. But she remembered when she was on her own. She’d been too young to be a hunter. Instead, other animals had hunted her, and she’d had to hide from them, squeezing into places too small for them to find. She’d been starving when Mom had found her and taken her in and cried over her and said, “I’m your mom now.”
And she’d been Minnie’s mom ever since then. Feeding her, petting her, loving her. She had soft hands, a soft voice, and soft kisses. Since Minnie’s cat mom had gone away without her, life had been hard. But then she’d found Mom, and softness had come back into her life.
That was a long time ago, but Minnie never forgot.
Mom had helped her; maybe she had saved her. Now it was time for Minnie to do something back for Mom.
After she napped.
But not here, in the open.
We need to go by the house.
Lion, who had his eyes closed, opened them. In the house? With Cara?
Not now. In the morning.
Lion lifted his head from the grass. Sleep outside?
It’s not cold out. It’s not raining. You’ve taken naps in the backyard before.
In the daytime. When the sun is out. I’m not like you. I sleep during the night.
Good. Then you won’t even know you’ll be in the open. Because you’ll be sleeping all night.
And I’ll watch for big animals that want to eat you, Quigley said. I’m strong and brave and fast.
And stupid, Minnie thought, standing.
But I still don’t understand, Lion said, not getting up. In general, he was easygoing, but sometimes he got stubborn. Why can’t we go inside the house and sleep? Why do we have to stay outside?
To make Mom worry.
I don’t want to worry Mom.
When Mom worries, Quigley said, she gets sad. I don’t want Mom to be sad, either.
Minnie flicked her ear at him. The longer Mom worries, the happier she’ll be when she finds us. Worry about us will make her remember what’s important in her life.