The Lost Cats and Lonely Hearts Club
Book One
NIC TATANO

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HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2016

Copyright © Nic Tatano 2016

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2016

Cover design by Holly Macdonald

Nic Tatano asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

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written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © August 2016 ISBN: 9780008200657

Version: 2016-09-07

PRAISE FOR NIC TATANO’S DEBUT WING GIRL

‘One of the top 20 books of 2013’

I Heart … Chick Lit

‘E-book novel of the year’

Chick Lit Chloe

‘I truly adored this novel … One of my favourite books this year, for sure’

Chick Lit Reviews

‘The heroine is sassy, the dialogue is razor-sharp and the romance is sweet. Well worth a read’

Chick Lit Club

‘Fast and funny’

Wondrous Reads

Dedication

For Gypsy, Pandora, Bella, Buttons, Snoopy, and J.R., my furry companions through life …

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Nic Tatano’s Debut Wing Girl

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Acknowledgments

Also by Nic Tatano

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The tortoiseshell kitten with one good eye and a limp awoke first, emerging from the ball of fur comprised of his three siblings. Light from the setting sun filtered into the abandoned room as he moved toward his mother, eagerly awaiting the quick bath she gave him every day. She was still asleep so he nuzzled her chin.

She didn’t move.

He bumped her with his head. Still nothing.

Her mouth hung open. She wasn’t breathing.

And she was cold.

His heart rate spiked as he went back to wake his siblings.

The three kittens stirred from their slumber and moved toward their mother.

The tabby knew it was in trouble.

The black and white tuxedo kitten felt pangs of hunger.

The Russian blue kitten’s eyes filled with fear.

Suddenly a nearby noise grabbed the tortoiseshell’s attention. His ears perked up. He couldn’t see very well or jump, but he was blessed with a very loud voice.

He began to cry.

My face tightens as the construction crew chief hands me and my photographer a hard hat each. “Do I really have to wear this?”

The construction foreman nods. “Sorry, Miss Shaw. Unless you want a block of concrete falling on your head. The stadium is about to come down without the help of our demolition crew.”

I roll my green eyes as I put on the plastic yellow hat, mashing my salon-perfect copper curls. “My two hundred dollar hair appointment this morning, shot to hell.”

My burly, middle-aged photographer shakes his head. “Awww, poor Madison and her six-figure salary. Careful you don’t break a nail, Network.”

Yeah, that’s my nickname, which I hate. Even though I’m a network television reporter.

The foreman laughs as he puts his hard hat atop his thick gray hair. “High maintenance, huh?”

The photographer nods. “She’s raised it to an art form. Who else wears four inch heels to a demolition story?”

My jaw clenches. “I wouldn’t even be covering this if Joe wasn’t out sick. I am a national political reporter in case you forgot.”

“How could I forget when you remind the newsroom every single day?”

I shoot him my patented death stare as he moves in front of me and aims his camera. He turns on his light, walking backwards as I follow the foreman into the condemned structure, navigating my way through oily puddles. (Hey, don’t give me that look. Fine, so he was right about the heels. But they take me up to six-foot-two and since I’m one hundred forty-five pounds of solid muscle I like being the Amazon of the newsroom.) “Okay, we’re rolling. So, Mister Richards, tell me why demolishing a building with explosives is such an art?”

“Well, you’ve gotta place the dynamite just right—”

He stops walking so I do the same. “What?”

He puts up his hand and points at a door. “Hang on. You hear that?”

I lean toward it and listen. “Yeah. I think it’s coming from that room. You think someone’s in there?”

“Not someone.” He pulls out a flashlight, turns it on and opens the door to a dark office. The high-pitched noise gets louder. “Well, well, we still have a few residents, I see.”

“What, rats?”

“Nope.” I follow the beam of light and see an old cardboard box filled with a bunch of crying kittens.

And a mother cat that is obviously dead.

The photographer aims his light at the box, brightening the room so we can see better.

I move forward and crouch down to take a closer look. “Poor little guys. The mother cat died.” I look around, find a clean box and start to place the kittens inside. “You’re a lucky bunch of kittens. You almost got blown up.”

And then one of them claws my brand new Prada jacket, pulling out a thread.

“Sonofabitch! My brand new jacket!” I put the kitten in the clean box and shake my head. “Can this day get any worse?”

“Uh-oh,” says the photographer as he turns to the foreman. “You might not need the explosives. Mount Madison is about to erupt.”

“Bite me, Ed.” I lift the box and stand up, then hold it out toward the foreman.

He furrows his brow. “What do you want me to do with these?”

“Find homes for ‘em. Your construction site, your kittens.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, young lady, but I can’t stop this project to take care of a bunch of orphaned cats. I love animals as much as the next person and I’ve got two cats at home, but I’m stuck here all night. And it’s obvious they need to be taken care of right away. I’ll bury the mother cat but as far as those kittens go, you’re it.”

My face tightens. “What am I gonna do with four kittens?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Take ‘em to a shelter.”

“On Friday night of a holiday weekend?”

“What can I say?” He starts to laugh.

“What?”

He points at my hand. “I just noticed you don’t wear a wedding ring.”

“That’s because I’m single.”

“You live by yourself?”

“Yeah. Why? You want my phone number?”

“Nah, it just hit me. Thirtysomething unmarried woman who lives alone.” He points at the box. “You’ve got yourself a cat lady starter kit.”

Stuck in traffic with four crying kittens is not my idea of a fun Friday night. I keep staring at the pull on my jacket, wondering if it can be fixed. And even if it can I would still know it’s there.

Meanwhile, I have more pressing problems to deal with. I need someone to take said problems off my hands.

I hit the hands-free button on the steering column to access my cell phone, then ask the robot with the clipped female voice a question. “Find all animal shelters on Staten Island.”

Beep. “There are three animal shelters on Staten Island.”

I pump my fist. “Yes!” Back to the robot. “Find an animal shelter on Staten Island that is currently open.”

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as the traffic begins to move. Beep. “There are no animal shelters currently open on Staten Island. The next shelter opening is at eight a.m. on Monday morning. Would you like directions?”

“Sonofabitch!”

Beep. “I do not appreciate your language. Please rephrase in a more dignified manner.”

Just what I need, a snooty cell phone. “Why is this happening to me?”

Beep. “Your question needs to be more specific. Please re-phrase it—”

“Oh, shut the hell up!”

Beep. “I do not appreciate your language. Please—”

I pound the steering wheel, turning off the phone.

There’s only one option left as I head for home.

“Please, God, let him be home.”

I bound up the steps of the house belonging to the veterinarian who lives next door. The kittens are still crying as I jam my finger into the doorbell several times.

“Coming! Keep your shirt on!”

“Thank you, God.” I hear footsteps and see a figure moving toward me through the beveled glass. The door opens and I exhale as I see my neighbor. “Jeff, so glad you’re home.”

The fortyish vet with short salt-and-pepper hair looks at the box of kittens. “Madison, you shouldn’t have. What’s going on?”

“I was doing a story on the demolition of the stadium and we found them in one of the offices. The mother cat was dead and they won’t stop crying and I know they’re hungry and I’m leaving on vacation tomorrow and could you take them—”

“Whoa, hold on. I’ve got a plane to catch in a couple hours for my own vacation.”

“Is there a shelter open?”

“Not at this hour and kittens this young need to be bottle fed.” He takes the box from me. “C’mon inside, I’ve got some formula and bottles.”

I follow him and shut the door. “Wait a minute … bottle fed?”

The short, slightly built vet nods. “It’s pretty common for orphaned kittens. Same as feeding a baby. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

“Me?”

“Like I said, I’ve gotta go but don’t worry, it’s simple. From the looks of them, they need to be fed right now or they won’t survive.”

He leads me into the kitchen, then pulls a cardboard box from a cabinet. He opens it, revealing half a dozen cans. My eyes widen as he pulls one out and I read the label. “There’s such a thing as formula for kittens? Can’t you just heat up some milk?”

“They need special nutrients. This stuff is close to cat’s milk as far as what it will do for kittens.” He grabs a couple of tiny plastic bottles from a drawer. He opens the can, fills both bottles, then hands one to me. He gently takes the kitten that looks like a tiger and holds the bottle to its mouth. It latches on with tiny paws and begins to eat immediately. “Poor little guy is hungry. Go ahead, Madison, grab a kitten and feed it.”

“Well, okay.” I reach into the box and gently pick up the kitten with all the colorful markings, then follow the lead of the vet. I can’t help but smile as the tiny kitten doesn’t take long to start draining the bottle. If only a photographer was here because this image is beyond cute. “Wow, he picked that up pretty quick.”

“See how easy it is? You’re a natural.”

“I’ve never done this with a baby. I’m an only child and didn’t work as a babysitter. I wouldn’t even know how to change a diaper.”

“Well, now you’re a cat foster parent.” His kitten finishes the bottle. “And you can’t forget to burp your kitten.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Watch. Very gently.” He places the kitten on his shoulder and softly taps it on the back with two fingers until it lets out a tiny burp.

I follow his lead with my kitten. It responds with a burp, then begins to purr, gives me a lick on my neck, then rests its head on my shoulder as it looks up at me. My anxiety seems to drain in an instant. “Awww.”

Jeff cocks his head at the kitten. “He just thanked you.”

I turn to look at the kitten. “You’re very welcome, little guy.”

We feed the other two kittens and put them back in the box where they quickly move together into a ball and fall asleep. “Okay, Madison, there’s enough formula here to hold you for a couple of days. You need to feed them every few hours.”

“Huh? Two a.m. feedings for cats?”

“They need constant care. Right now they’re helpless. And keep them in a warm place. If you have a stuffed animal put it in the box and it will make them feel more secure. A ticking clock helps to take the place of the mother’s heartbeat.” He reaches into another drawer and pulls out a bag of cotton balls. “You also have to encourage them to answer nature’s call after you feed them.”

“Excuse me?”

“The mother cat stimulates the area where they pee and poop with her tongue. You’ll have to do it with your finger.”

Okay, that makes my face tighten. “Huh? I have to touch …”

“You also need warm water and some cotton balls. I’ll show you how it works, and how to clean them when they’re done.”

It tightens some more. “I’ve gotta bathe them too?”

“No, but you have to keep them clean. It’s simple, Madison. Anyway, you can adopt them out in a few weeks.”

My face has now reached the point where I look like a woman who’s overdosed on Botox. “Weeks? Did you say weeks?”

“Yeah. Once they learn to take care of themselves.”

“Jeff, don’t you know anyone who can take them? I’m supposed to be leaving for a vacation in the Hamptons. My boyfriend is picking me up first thing in the morning.”

“Sorry, no foster homes for four orphaned kittens on a Friday night of a holiday weekend. Take ‘em with you. You’ll do fine.” He studies my face for a moment, then takes my hands. “Madison, they’ll die if someone doesn’t take care of them. Honestly, I’d do it but—”

I look at the ball of fur in the box and the guilt I feel reminds me where I came from. “That’s okay. Listen, thanks for your help.”

“That’s the spirit. C’mon, you carry the kittens back to your house and I’ll get the supplies. Then I’ll write down all the stuff you need from the pet store and what else you need to do.”

10:13 pm: First Feeding/Nature’s Call

Jeff told me it helps to keep a log of feedings, so here we go.

I have decided that my storm coverage gear is perfect for what I’m about to do next, so I don my rubber yellow slicker and matching hat. I add a pair of safety goggles as I have no idea how far a kitten can shoot.

I’ve lined up the cotton balls and warm water.

Four hours ago I was in a Prada suit ready for a vacation in the Hamptons. Now I look like a member of a Hazmat team about to rub my finger on a kitten’s … hell, I don’t even wanna think about what I’m going to do.

I take a cotton ball and dip it into the warm water and grab the colorful kitten from the box. I take a deep breath, hold the kitten at arm’s length and turn my head as I have no desire to actually see what I can feel. Ugh. The grimace I see in the mirror is off the charts as I start rubbing the area in question with my finger and within a few seconds I feel something warm which smells really bad.

“Ugh. Oh my God, this is so disgusting. I am never having kids.”

I take a peek and see the kitten is done while my finger is covered with (too much information) so I toss the cotton ball in the trash, grab a fresh one and clean the little furball. Back in the box it goes, then I rush to the sink and pour a decent amount of rubbing alcohol on my hands.

“One down, three to go.”

Twenty minutes later I’m done.

Twenty minutes after that, the Silkwood shower I’m taking runs out of hot water.

12:02 am: Second Feeding/Nature’s Call

I had just drifted off to sleep when the loud one started crying again.

Jeff was right. They’re on schedule.

At least I don’t need another shower for this part.

Oh, wait. I have to clean them after feeding them. Curses, foiled again.

I prepare four bottles with the formula and line them up on the kitchen table. As I sit I grab the colorful kitten from the box. He already knows the routine as the moment I put the bottle to his mouth he latches on and drains it. “Awww, you were hungry again, huh?” I put the little guy on my shoulder, burp it, and repeat the process with the other kittens.

I feel a twinge of maternal instinct as I look at the adorable tiger kitten sucking on the bottle, but the memory from two hours ago blows it out of the water.

Because I have to do the Hazmat routine again.

The hot water in the shower runs out after eight minutes, apparently not having had enough time to re-load.

I have got to get a bigger water heater.

3:14 am: Third Feeding/Nature’s Call.

I must look like an extra from The Walking Dead as I shuffle into the kitchen to prepare the bottles. Bleary-eyed I get the kittens fed. The colorful one gives me a soulful look when he’s done with his bottle and for a minute I feel guilty about complaining. The poor little thing has lost its mother and I’ve only lost sleep.

Hazmat suit. Alcohol. Shower.

4:20 am: Bad Dream

Not me, one of the kittens. The colorful one started screaming and shaking. I held him close so he could hear my heartbeat. He calmed down after five minutes. Not sure if kittens have nightmares or if he woke up, couldn’t find his mother and freaked out.

That feeling is so familiar to me …

5:44 am: Fourth Feeding/Nature’s Call

I’m too tired to stand up in the shower so I take a bath. I glance in the box and see them all looking at me.

“Guys, don’t do that. You’re too damn cute.”

They keep looking at me.

“Stop it.”

They don’t.

They’re just too cute.

And something tells me they know it.

8:01 am: Fifth? Sixth? Who the hell knows. I’ve lost count and can’t focus on the log.

The sun woke me up this time before the kittens started crying so I’m actually semi-awake while on my third cup of coffee. I can’t help but smile as I look at the kittens huddled together in a ball, fast asleep.

“Well, guys, we made it. Through the first night, anyway.”

I can’t believe it, but I actually feel some pride in what I’ve accomplished.

The fact that I’ve saved four lives gives me a warm feeling.

Which is good, because the water heater gave up the ghost.

8:29 am

I trudge toward the front door to answer the bell. I open it and see my boyfriend’s face immediately drop. “Geez, Madison, you look like hell. You can’t go to the beach party this afternoon looking like that. I thought you were going to get your hair done yesterday? I mean, there are going to be supermodels there.”

It should be noted that my significant other of the past eight months often has no filter and says things that embarrass me in public. According to my best friends this is a major problem, but one I deem fixable even though he has on occasion made my face match my hair. He also tends to gawk at pretty women when we’re together, even commenting on them, but I’m working on that one as well. Actually, there’s a pretty long to-do list. But as you know, some guys take longer to mature. So let’s go with that. “Thank you, Jeremy. And good morning to you too.” I shake my head as he comes inside.

My tall, lean boyfriend takes my shoulders, studies my face with his pale blue eyes. “You sick?”

“Nope. Been up all night.”

“Well, you can sleep in the car. We’ll find a salon when we get there.” He reaches for the suitcase that I packed days ago and stops. “What’s that noise?”

I point toward the cardboard box with the kittens. “The reason I was up all night.”

He walks over to it and takes a look, then runs one hand through his thick, dark hair. “Okay … why do you have a bunch of kittens?”

“Long story.” I give him the quick recap. “Anyway, they can’t take care of themselves so we’ve gotta take ‘em with us. And stop at a pet store along the way for their groceries.”

He puts up his hands. “Whoa, hold on a minute. You want to take four orphaned kittens to the Hamptons? And we’ve got to bottle feed them every few hours? Which means getting up in the middle of the night?”

“No choice. Can’t find anyone else to take them and the vet next door is out of town on his own vacation.”

He shakes his head. “Madison, I rented a great place and have reservations at some incredible restaurants. The whole week is planned out. We’ve got an invite to the best beach party of the summer in the Hamptons. We can’t take a bunch of cats.”

I put my hands on my hips. “So, what, we’re gonna just leave ‘em here?”

He shrugs. “They’re just a bunch of strays that no one would want.”

Okay, the lack of a filter just crossed the line with the one thing that sets me off. “You do know that I was basically a stray.”

“What, because you were an abandoned baby and grew up in foster homes? We’re talking about cats, Madison, not people. They would have died anyway if you hadn’t found them.”

“Are you serious? Leave them here and let them starve to death?”

“Let nature take its course.”

A large red flag starts heading up the pole. “I cannot believe you. Are you that cold?”

“Madison, be serious … we’ve been looking forward to this vacation for months. This is the Hamptons we’re talking about. Think of the celebrities we’ll meet and the accounts I can pick up. C’mon, let’s go. You’ll forget the whole thing once you see the beach.”

I can’t believe it. My boyfriend is selfish and actually lacking in compassion. Just as my best friends have told me. How did I not see this for myself until now? Because the incredible sex had your rose-colored glasses firmly in place, dumbass. A loud meow distracts me and I turn to look at the box of kittens. Four desperate sets of eyes, filled with hope, seem to look right into my heart, like no person ever has. The colorful one meows again and locks eyes with me if to say: You’re all we’ve got. Please don’t leave us. How could anyone throw away precious lives like that?

And why would I want to keep dating someone who would?

As a reporter, I often see things in black and white, and this is one of those times.

I turn back to Jeremy, narrow my eyes and point at the door. “Get. Out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out of my house.”

“Madison, c’mon. Calm down—”

“Oh, I’m very calm. You just showed your true colors. And now I owe those kittens for showing me what kind of person you really are.”

“You’re serious? Madison, we’ve made plans.”

“So go find a new girl at the Hamptons and make plans with her. Someone selfish who doesn’t like responsibility or respect life. Considering your bikini radar, it shouldn’t take you long. We’re done, Jeremy. Out. Now.”

He throws up his hands. “Fine. Enjoy your week-long vacation with a bunch of strays.” He spins on his heels and leaves, slamming the door.

I stare at it, my relationship closed like the door. “I’m a stray. We stick together.” I feel my eyes well up but the sharp meow grabs my attention. I quickly move to the box and see the colorful kitten standing in front of the other three. “Oh, the loud one again. I guess you’re the spokesman for the litter.” I pick up the box and bring it in to the kitchen, setting it in a sun square. “C’mon, guys. Time for breakfast. And thank you for showing me what I couldn’t see before.”

I hear the whispers from the next aisle as I wheel my shopping cart through the pet superstore.

“I’m telling you, it’s her.”

“No way.”

“Molly, that’s Madison Shaw.”

“Get real, Joe. You think someone on network TV goes out in public like that? The woman looks like she just rolled out of bed and combed her hair with an eggbeater. Trust me, that is NOT the redhead you drool over on the evening news.”

I can’t help but laugh as I push the cart around to the next aisle. The young couple in front of me studies my face. What the hell. I stick out my hand and flash a big smile. “Hi, I’m Madison.”

The woman’s eyes widen as she turns beet red. “Oh my God, I am so sorry—”

The man’s jaw simply drops and hangs open like a trophy bass. “Uh, I, uh …”

I laugh as I wave my hand like I’m shooing a fly. “Pffft, don’t worry about it. This is the real me. Pretty scary without the hair spray and makeup, huh?” I pat the guy on the shoulder. “Sorry to blow up your fantasy, dude.”

The man looks down at the floor, his face matching his wife’s. “You’re still … naturally beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

The man looks up and shoots me a sheepish grin. “I’m, uh, a fan.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “I think she got that part, Joe.”

“Yeah, thanks to your big mouth.” He turns back to me. “Nice to know you’re a real person.”

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever been referred to in that manner. Though we do have quite a few plastic androids in the business, so I get it.”

He looks in my cart and spots the formula. “Ah, you’re taking care of an orphaned kitten.”

“Four of ‘em. Found them while doing a story yesterday.”

“Wow. And you’re taking care of all four?”

“Yep.”

“Well, your stock just went up. Our cat was an orphan. They make the best pets. It’s like they know you’ve saved them. You gonna keep all of them?”

“Just until I find homes for them in a few weeks.”

The guy starts to laugh. “Yeah, right. Trust me, there’ll be one that you just can’t give away.”

“Whoa, fright night.”

I shrug as my best friend Rory stares at my disheveled hair, formula-covered t-shirt and sweatpants featuring cat hair, her hazel eyes wide in disbelief. “Yeah, I get that a lot lately.”

The slender brunette moves forward and hugs me hard. “Freckles (her nickname for me), why didn’t you call me yesterday when you broke up with Jeremy?” She pulls back and takes my face in her hands. “God, you look devastated. You’re a wreck. Have you even slept?”

I usher her inside. “That’s not why I’m wearing the Raggedy Ann summer collection and have designer bed-head.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re not upset about Jeremy?”

“Nope. Let me show you why.” I lead Rory over to the box of kittens.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable!” She kneels down to get a closer look. “And they’re so little. Whoa, wait a minute. Why do you have all these kittens?”

I tell her the story, how they actually led to the breakup. “So, I sort of owe them for showing me the light about Jeremy.”

“Well, I can’t tell you—”

“Please, don’t give me the I told you so. You warned me enough times about him. You were right.”

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I tell you the guy you’re dating is a selfish, superficial sonofabitch.”

I nod as she sits on the couch. “I defer to your feminine radar in the future as mine obviously isn’t in working condition.”

Rory has always been spot-on about men since she became my best friend in high school and saved me from some bad decisions. (Though obviously I don’t always listen to her.) She’s a half foot shorter than me, about five-four, and has that girl-next-door thing going, fresh faced with never a spot of makeup. Couldn’t care less about appearances. But she makes up for that with an incredible personality that attracts men like moths to a flame. And she’s quite the wordsmith, working as an advertising copywriter out of her home across the street. It’s like having a sister a hundred feet away.

I may as well tell you the story of how she saved my life.

Life began for me, at least the part I can confirm, in a New York City park restroom, where I was abandoned shortly after being born along with a note.

I am unable to take care of my child. Please find a good home for her.

My name comes from the two police officers who followed the sound of a crying baby and found me. Two cops whose last names were Madison and Shaw brought me to social services, where I began the journey of being shuttled between six foster homes over the next eighteen years.

Some good, some not.

A few of my foster parents were decent people who actually wanted children. Others simply wanted the financial stipend the state provided in return for taking care of me.

That I could live with. The bullying in school I could not.

Children can be cruel, and so the taunting about being “unwanted” began at an early age. By the time I was sixteen, I was bitter and angry at the world.

Until Rory came into my life.

The most popular girl in school, head cheerleader, prom queen, co-valedictorian, saw a tall redhead wearing a death stare on a daily basis who ate alone with her head down in the school cafeteria. When she heard another student taunt me about being a foster kid, she came over during lunch, slid her tray onto my table and sat across from me.

“Hi, I’m Rory.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You got a name?”

“Madison Shaw.”

“Ah. I was getting tired of referring to you as the angry redhead in my class who’s smarter than I am.”

“Doubtful. I’m a straight C student.”

“But you’re smart as hell. You’re never wrong when the teachers call on you. You come up with answers faster than I do. You figure out stuff in your head in math class before I can do it on paper.”

“Is there something you want?”

“Nope. You just look like you could use a friend. Though I could use the competition for valedictorian. I don’t wanna win because a smarter girl didn’t give her best effort.”

“Why do you care?”

“Like I said, I don’t want to win by default. Unless you think you can’t beat me.” She locked eyes with me as she threw down the gauntlet.

“I could beat you if I wanted to.”

“Prove it, Freckles. C’mon, let’s rock.”

“Why aren’t you sitting at the table with all the cool kids?”

“I am sitting at the table with the cool kids. To me, brains are the coolest thing on the planet. And I suspect there’s a decent human being behind that Great Wall of China you’ve put up.” She shot me a look that went right to my soul, one that told me she was sincere. I can’t explain it, but a wave of calm instantly washed over me.

And when the most popular girl in the school accepts you, the bullying stops. It’s like being a made man in the Mafia. I also discovered that Rory’s friends, who I assumed were the cool kids, were actually very normal as she had no tolerance for phonies. They accepted me with open arms as well.

We became inseparable, Rory taking me under her wing even though I towered over her. My grades shot up (we tied for the valedictorian thing) as she became the sister I’d never had. She set an example for me, using her popularity for good. Upon being crowned queen of the prom, she immediately took the thing off and placed it on the head of a girl in a wheelchair. She was the least pretentious person I’d ever met, when she could have easily been the queen bitch of the mean girls. A teenager with a forty year old brain, she taught me stuff about life that wasn’t in any book.

Most important, my anger and bitterness slowly dissipated, replaced by a passionate desire to succeed and be more successful than anyone else. I dreamed about future high school reunions when I could show up and brag about having the best career and a spectacular life. About being so rich I could write million dollar checks to charities. I ate dinner at her house most nights, her mother and father becoming the parents I desperately needed.

The day I turned eighteen in the middle of my senior year Rory handed me a small gift-wrapped box. “Happy birthday, Freckles.”

“Thank you. This is the only present I’ll get.”

“Well, then, I sure hope you like it.”

I tore open the box. I furrowed my brow as I saw a simple key inside. “Okay, this is one of your clever treasure hunts. I suppose I have to find the lock this fits.”

“It should be easy. The location is on the card in the box.”

I pulled it out and saw Rory’s address. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re moving in with us. I want you out of that foster home and so do my parents. This is not up for discussion. As of today, you are living with me. So after school we are going to your house, pack up everything you own and get you the hell outta there.”

I became a member of her family, the first one that felt real. Her parents treated me like their own daughter, grounded me with values I desperately needed. We shared a three bedroom housing unit in college, as our friend Tish became our other roommate.

But the qualities Rory had drawn out of me had slowly disappeared in the world of television news, a superficial industry that asks you to check your soul at the door.

And often doesn’t give it back.

Thankfully, the kittens came into my life and reminded me where I came from.

I point to the kittens as she sits next to me. “So, you want one?”

“Sure, I could use a fur baby to keep me company. You’re really gonna take care of them for a few weeks?”

“Yeah, but I’ll need help when I get back to work next week. I was wondering … since you work at home if you could pop by during the day and feed them while I’m at work?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You have to clean them too. Y’know, encourage them to go to the bathroom. It’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Yeah, I had a friend with an orphaned kitten when I was a kid. Again, not a problem.”

“The colorful one is really sweet.”

“Oh, you mean the tortoiseshell.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah. You’ve also got a tabby, a tuxedo cat and a Russian blue.”

“That kitten is not blue, it’s gray.”

“That’s what the breed is called.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I’ve got them covered all this week, so if you could start next Monday. It’s just for a while, then I can find homes for all four.”

“Something tells me you’ll be finding homes for three of them.”

“Rory, I can’t have a cat. I’m gone too much.”

“Cats are great pets for people like you. They’re independent, take care of themselves. Self-cleaning. A lot like you. Though right now you’re missing the self-cleaning part.” She starts to laugh.

“What?”

“You know, this is a good look for you.”

I point at my face. “Seriously? With hair that looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket, no makeup, clothes covered in formula and cat hair?”

Rory nods. “Yeah. The look of a girl who blew off a vacation in the Hamptons for a bunch of helpless kittens. You were the girl who never had a hair out of place, who wore hundred dollar jeans to a charity car wash, who put on makeup and heels to go to the grocery store. Today you look like the rest of us.”

“You don’t look sloppy and disheveled, Rory.”

“I didn’t mean that. While I have always loved you dearly since we met, your career has changed you … made you … well … obsessed with outward appearances and high maintenance. And Jeremy made you more superficial. You used to be this cute freckle faced redhead who was comfortable in old jeans and a sweatshirt and the network tried to turn you into a smoking hot babe with the hair and the ridiculous makeup and expensive clothes. And now I can see a little change.”

“I know, I look like a slob.”

“Not in your clothes, in your eyes. There’s a little something I haven’t seen in a while that you always had before your job. What you did last night for those kittens … well, that’s the real you. I mean, think about it. You get stuck with a litter of orphans, you’re up all night, you break up with your boyfriend … and you’re not remotely upset.”

I cock my head at the kittens. “I guess I’d forgotten where I came from, and they reminded me.”

“Well, good. Tell you what, we’ll do our usual Sunday brunch here today. I’ll call the girls. They don’t even know you’re in town.”

I start to get up. “Okay. I’ll go get cleaned up.”

Rory grabs my hand and stops me. “No. I want them to see this.”

Chapter Two

“Put. The cameras. Down.”

The other two members of my tight circle of friends, Tish and A.J., lower their cell phones as Rory laughs. “Aw, c’mon,” says Tish. “One for the scrapbook.”

I put my hand in front of my face. “Yeah, right. You’d post it on social media and my boss would have a fit when it went viral.”

Tish raises her hands, then slowly spreads them apart as she looks up at the ceiling. “I can see it now. Network info-babe revealed as frumpy cat lady. Film at eleven.”

“Very funny. And I know A.J. would use it to blackmail me at some point in the future.”

A.J. twirls a lock of her raven hair. “Well, I am Sicilian. But seriously, when will we ever have a chance to see you in this condition again?”

Rory nods. “Really. It’s like spotting a unicorn.”

I start to dish out some food onto my plate. “Oh, leave me alone. Can we just eat?”

Tish brushes her shoulder length blonde hair behind her ears. “Okay girls, we’ve tortured her enough.”

I smile at her, our college roommate who is the smartest of our group and was top of her class in law school. She also has the coolest office I’ve ever seen, as she rents space in the Empire State Building. Alas, her courtroom shark persona and seriously high IQ are often intimidating to men. Tish is another of those girls who would be really pretty if she tried, with huge blue eyes she hides behind thick horn-rimmed glasses and a good five-foot-eight body she keeps under wraps. But she’s all business and doesn’t spend much time on appearances, relying on very conservative outfits and hairstyles for the courtroom. She only seems to let that hair down around us. When I need someone for pure logic, she’s my first call. She’s also an incredibly loyal friend and would drop whatever she was doing if any of us needed help.

She reaches for the pitcher of mimosas and starts to pour everyone a glass. “We do have another topic to discuss besides kittens and Madison’s current aversion to soap.”

I glare at her. “Bite me.”

A.J. furrows her brow. “What topic is that?”

Tish locks eyes with me. “The little matter of Jeremy getting his exit visa. Which deserves a celebration, in my opinion.” She holds up her glass. “Cheers!”

I roll my eyes. “I know, I know, you all didn’t like him.”

A.J. pops an olive in her mouth. “I wouldn’t say that. I hated the sonofabitch and wanted to kick his ass.”

“Fine, he’s gone. Just be happy I didn’t walk down the aisle with him.”

Rory takes a bite of chicken. “You never would have exchanged vows. There would have been a chorus when the priest did that speak now or forever hold your peace thing.”

“Right,” says Tish. “You would have had to take a number.”

A.J. shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have gone that far. I would have had him whacked.” It should be noted that while A.J. does not have family in the Mob (at least I don’t think so), she is fond of using Sicilian stereotypes.

A.J. runs her family’s delicatessen here on Staten Island, which is appropriate since she is obsessed with food. Though amazingly while working in a place where she’s surrounded by stuff loaded with calories, the petite woman never seems to gain an ounce. I met her as a customer and we immediately hit it off as I pointed at her nameplate and asked her what A.J. stood for. She refused to tell me so I asked her brother who also works there. Get this: Antoinette Josephine. Yikes. (You can see why she goes by A.J. as a spunky attitude doesn’t go with a name like Antoinette or her Noo Yawk accent.) She of course threatened to have me whacked should I ever speak her real name in her presence. A.J. is a spunky little thing with zero tolerance for bull, both from her dates and customers. But if you want someone in a foxhole who will take no prisoners, she’s your girl. Behind those dark eyes lies the soul of a gunslinger. But the heart is pure gold.

I take a sip of my mimosa as I consider her offer to wish Jeremy into the cornfield. “Very funny. But there’s nothing to discuss.”

“Sure there is,” says Rory. “We’ve got that bridesmaids dress from hell wedding next weekend and now you need a plus one. Either that or spend the day dancing with the usher you’re paired with.”

The image makes me cringe. “Oh, crap. I forgot all about that. I’m not hanging out with the groom’s fifteen year old nephew.”

Tish smiles at me. “Hence, we must find you a plus one. Lest you do the Bunny Hop with a pubescent kid’s hands on your ass.”

I exhale in disgust. “Well, this will certainly be a quick rebound. I’m not wild about a blind date to a wedding, but considering the alternative I have no choice. So, who’ve you guys got?”

A.J. perks up. “My cousin Joey—”

“No!” Everyone shouts in unison.

Tish shakes her head. “Once and for all, please stop trying to fix up that particular relative. He’s un-fix-up-able. We can do better.”

A.J. folds her arms. “Fine, Miss legal eagle. Who are you bringin’ to the table?”

“There’s a guy who just rented the office next to mine. He seems nice.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s he do?”

“Don’t know that either.”

“You wanna fix her up with someone and you don’t even know his name or what he does?”

“He smiled at me when he moved in and said hello. And he’s got a great ass.”

A.J. rolls her eyes. “Gimme a break.” She turns to Rory. “You got anyone?”

Rory taps her chin with one finger. “Well … there’s this guy from a commercial production house I talk to on the phone a lot but I’ve never met him. He’s funny and seems nice. And I know he’s single.”

“How old is he?” asks A.J.

“Don’t know.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Don’t know that either.”

A.J. slowly nods. “So, let me get this straight … you guys shoot down my cousin and yet all you can come up with is a nameless guy with a great ass and a commercial producer who gives good phone but might be seventy years old, fat and bald.”

Rory pulls out her tablet from her purse, taps it a few times. “Fine, let me go to his company website. Maybe there’s a photo.” She waits a beat, taps the screen a few more times, then smiles. “Ooooh, I think he’ll do.” She turns the tablet around so the rest of us can see.

My eyes widen a bit as I take in the photo of a hot, dark-haired guy who looks about thirty-five. “Uh … yeah.”

“Fuhgeddaboudit. He’s doable all right,” cracks A.J.

Rory smiles as she turns back to her food. “Okay, I’ll make the call.”

I pat Rory on the shoulder. “Thanks.” I start to eat but suddenly it hits me. “Uh-oh. We’ve got one more problem.”

“What?” asks Tish.

“Since we’re all going to the wedding, I need a sitter for the kittens. And speaking of permanent cat sitters—”

“I’ll take a kitten,” says Tish.

“Me too,” says A.J. “Hell, with a deli downstairs, the thing will never starve.”

The teenage girl’s eyes bug out as I open the door wearing a bridesmaid’s dress that was obviously designed during a power failure. “Wow, Miss Shaw. You must be a really good friend to someone to wear that.”

“Kelly, remember this phrase when you start being included in bridal parties. You’ll be able to wear this dress again. Biggest lie you’ll ever hear.” I usher her in to my home, giving her enough room to get by my ridiculously puffy sleeves that look like they’re filled with helium and ready to explode. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Hey, I love cats. And we actually had an orphaned kitten years ago. I know the routine.” I point out all the cat supplies on the kitchen table. The tall, skinny seventeen year old brunette is the incredibly normal daughter of a neighbor who lives down the street, a teen who actually speaks instead of having her head buried in a cell phone. But she can’t stop giggling as she looks at my outfit. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude—”

“Oh, you should have heard me while I was putting on this monstrosity.” The orange dress (ghastly color for a redhead, or any woman for that matter) is made of this incredibly itchy fabric with a tight waist that makes my ass look like I’ve had a Kardashian upgrade and an angled hemline that starts at the knee on the right and ends at the ankle on the left. With lovely matching ballet slippers. Then for some bizarre reason there’s a circular thing sewn onto the waist that looks like the hand warmers football players wear during cold games. We’re supposed to keep our hands in there as we go down the aisle. Why, I have no clue. (A.J. says it’s to keep us from flipping the bird at the designer who is a friend of the bride and attending the wedding.) I’ll get to wear it again if a pirate ever asks me to a retro seventies disco when it’s ten below zero outside. Or if Macy’s ever needs an orange float in the Thanksgiving Day parade.

“Well, people will be looking at the bride.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be laughing at the bridesmaids.” I hear the car horn outside and know the girls are here to pick me up. “Okay, you’ve got my cell if you need anything.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Shaw, the kittens are in good hands.”

I crack open the door, hoping none of the neighbors will see me but as luck would have it the weather is spectacular and everyone is outside on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. I quickly rush for the car. The guy who lives across the street spots me, starts to laugh, pulls out his cell phone and points it at me to take a photo.

I practically dive into the back seat before he has a chance.

Rory is behind the wheel with Tish riding shotgun while A.J. is next to me. “Drive! Now!”

Rory turns around. “What, you don’t want the neighbors to see you dressed like the Sunkist blimp?”

“Just go!”

She turns back, puts the car in gear and drives off. “Count your blessings. At least you’re not the only one wearing this.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be the only one with a photo that goes viral.”

After a ceremony during which all the people in the church, including the priest, tried their best not to laugh during what is now referred to as “the procession of tangerines”, we all make it to the reception, where thankfully there is an open bar. Of course the bartender can’t help himself and starts laughing as I approach since this outfit just cries out for something sarcastic. He grabs the orange juice and vodka, quickly makes me a Screwdriver. “The perfect accessory for your … dress,” he says, as he hands me the drink.

“Very funny.” But at this point I just need alcohol, so I keep it. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around to find Rory with my blind date.

It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping, as the guy is even more handsome than his photo. About six-three, short dark hair, deep-set dark eyes, a classic anchorman’s square jaw, and filling out an expensive dark gray suit like a model.

“Madison, this is Rob.”

He extends his hand. “Great to meet you, Madison.”

I shake it as I can’t help but stare at this Greek god. “Uh, yeah, you too. Thanks so much for bailing me out today.”

“My pleasure. I feel like I already know you since I watch your network. You look very different in person.”

“I would imagine since we all just got here from the citrus queen pageant. The talent competition knocked me out.”

He laughs. “I didn’t mean the dress. You look more … real.”

“Well, they do pile on the makeup at the network.”

Rory lightly touches my arm. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

“Thanks again, Rory.”

“Yes,” says Rob. “Thank you.” He gestures toward a table. “Shall we?”

It’s very late and I’m slightly buzzed as Rob drives me home. Thankfully he has ignored my hideous outfit and we are really hitting it off. He’s a fabulous dancer and a gentleman, with his hands not going anywhere they weren’t supposed to be. Even during the Bunny Hop.

I can’t help but think how much has changed in just a week all because I inherited a box of kittens. How much I’ve changed. And how quickly I am putting Jeremy in the rear-view mirror to the point I can’t even see him.

Pretty easy with a guy like Rob as my escort.

I point at my house as he turns onto my street. “I know it’s late, but would you like a nightcap or some coffee?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

I look at my watch and see it’s just after midnight. “Well, it’s past twelve. I guess I didn’t have to turn into a pumpkin since I already look like one.”

He laughs as he pulls into my driveway. “So, you ever gonna wear that thing again?”

“If I’m the grand marshal of a Halloween parade. The minute we get inside I’m getting out of this dress.” He gets out of the car, walks around to my side and opens the door for me. “Thank you, kind sir.” I lead him to the front door just as Kelly opens it.

Her eyes widen as she checks out my date. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. Rob, this is Kelly. She lives down the street and was my sitter tonight. So, were the little guys okay?”

“I was just about to feed them again.”

“I’ll take care of it, Kelly.”

Rob’s face immediately tightens and he puts up his hands. “Whoa, you never said you had kids.”

“I don’t. C’mon in, I’ll show you.” I quickly pay Kelly and thank her. She leaves and I lead Rob over to the box of kittens, beaming like a proud parent. “Aren’t they cute?”

“You hired a babysitter for a litter of kittens?”

“They’re orphans. The mother cat died. So they have to be bottle fed every few hours.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The tortoiseshell starts meowing, so I pick it up. “This one’s my favorite. Feel how incredibly soft the fur is.”

He actually backs up a step and puts up his hands again. “Uh, that’s okay.”

“What, you don’t like cats?”

“Not a big animal lover. They’re as needy as children.”

Oh, shit. Is he another Jeremy?

I hold the kitten out toward him. “C’mon, he won’t bite.”

The kitten looks at him and hisses.

Well, so much for that. I pull the kitten back. “Tell you what, Rob, I’ll let you feed one and maybe you’ll change your mind.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Can’t you do that later?”

“No, they’re hungry now. They’re on a feeding schedule. It won’t take long. Half as long if you help me.”

“I thought when you said you wanted to get out of that dress … well, you know …” He gives me a seductive look.

“I meant I was gonna change into something normal.”

He moves forward and takes my shoulders. “Well, regardless of what you meant—”

Anndddd … cue the red flag. “No. For God’s sake, Rob, we just met.”

The kitten lets out a guttural growl.

I back away. “Rob, just so we’re clear, I invited you in so we could have a drink and talk some more.”

“I think we had enough conversation at the wedding. Look, Madison, we’re both adults—”

“Apparently one of us isn’t. Get. Out.” (I’m getting good at this, huh?)

“Seriously?”

I point at the door.

He glares at me, shakes his head, says nothing, turns around and leaves.

Just like that.

The phone immediately rings. Rory. I answer the call as I move to the window and pull back the drapes to see her looking at me from across the street. “What?”

“I’ve heard of a quickie but that’s ridiculous. What happened?”

“He hates cats and kids and is apparently as selfish as Jeremy. When I said I wanted to get out of this dress he thought that meant I wasn’t going to put on something else.”

“Oh. Geez, I thought he was a decent guy. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, you couldn’t know. At least I had fun at the wedding.”

“How are the fur babies?”

“Fine. Oh, get this, the tortoiseshell hissed and growled at him.”

“Hmmm. Very perceptive cat. And protective of you.”

“That’s twice the little guys have saved me.”

“They’re just repaying you, Freckles.”

“I guess. Well, it’s feeding time, so I have to go.” We say our goodbyes and I set about filling up the bottles with formula, then start feeding the tortoiseshell. “Thanks again, kitty.”

Chapter Three

It’s my first day back at work and I cannot wait to get home. The live shot kept me at my job longer than normal, and I’m already imposing on Rory enough asking her to take care of the kittens during the day. But what surprises me is how much I missed my fur babies, especially the tortoiseshell. That kitten has a ton of personality. (I called Rory four times today to check on them, and she called me a helicopter cat parent.) Anyway, I’m speeding through the neighborhood. I slow down for a stop sign and take a quick look in both directions before rolling through it. I’ll see the kittens in a minute.

The flashing lights and the short blast of a siren breaks my train of thought. I look in the rear-view mirror and see the police car right behind me. “Oh, hell. Not now.” I pull into my driveway as the cop stops in front of my house. I open the door and hear the voice over the loudspeaker.

“Please remain in the car.”

I roll my eyes and get back in, reminding myself to be polite and keep my hands in plain sight, then roll down the window as I see the officer approaching in the side mirror. I look up as he reaches the car, not really able to see his face as he’s backlit by the streetlight and is just a silhouette. “Sorry, officer, I was getting out of the car because I actually live here.”

“How convenient. License and registration please.”

I pull the license from my purse and registration from the glove compartment, then hand them to the cop. He shines a flashlight at them. “Huh, you really do live here.”

“I’d have to be kinda stupid to lie to a cop.”

He laughs. “Happens ten times every day, Miss.”

Okay, have to try my best to get out of this. I put on my innocent little girl face (referred to by my friends as my Strawberry Shortcake look), dipping my head and looking up at him through my eyelashes. “So, did I do something wrong, officer?”

“You were well over the speed limit and you blew through a stop sign. What’s your hurry?”

“Trying to get home to take care of four orphaned kittens. My best friend has been stuck at the house bottle feeding them.”

He shakes his head. “Well, that’s a new one on me. Speeding to take care of cats.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Seriously, Miss …” he looks at the license again. “… Shaw, you couldn’t come up with something better than that?” He pulls out a ticket book and clicks his pen.

“Well, since we’re at my house, why don’t you come in and take a look? And if I’m lying you can write me the biggest, most expensive ticket you can think of. But if I’m not, maybe you’ll cut me some slack.”

“Fair enough. Can’t wait to see this.” He opens the door for me and I get out. Still can’t see his face. “Oh, you’re the TV reporter.”

“Yeah.”

“Thought the name sounded familiar. Anyway, let’s see exhibit A.”

I lead him up the stairs and into my home. Rory is on the couch, busy bottle feeding one of the kittens. “Rory, thank you so much. So sorry I’m late.”

Rory looks up and sees the cop behind me. “What’d you do, get a police escort?”

“No, my lead foot got me in trouble.” I turn to face the cop and get a good look at his face for the first time.

Damn.

The guy is beyond cute. Tall, mid-thirties, maybe six-one, thick black hair and olive green eyes. A face with a five o’clock shadow that’s all angles and planes. A uniform that shows off a lean, muscled physique. His Italian features confirmed by his name plate. Officer N. Marino.

He looks right past me at the kittens. “Well, I’ll be damned. You really were racing home for a bunch of orphans.”

I fold my arms and flash a big smile. “And the defense rests.”

“Point taken. Sorry I doubted you.” He crouches down next to the box. “Where’d you get them?”

I tell him the story. “So, anyway, they’re not ready to adopt out yet and Rory takes care of them while I’m at work.”

He nods as he gently strokes the head of a kitten, which rewards him with a purr. “Very nice of you both.” He stands up and puts his ticket book back in his pocket. “Well, since you win the monthly award for the most ridiculous but honest excuse given to a cop and you’re doing a good deed, I’ll let you off with a warning.”

“Thank you, Officer. I’ll drive safely in the future.” Another dose of Strawberry Shortcake.

He locks eyes with me, sending a bit of electricity through my body as he extends his hand. “Nick Marino.”

I shake hands. “Madison Shaw. And this is my best friend, Rory Callahan.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

He doesn’t look at Rory but keeps his gaze on me, adding a soft smile. Finally he lets go of my hand.

Rory finishes feeding the kitten, burps it, puts it back in the box and stands up. “Well, they’re all fed. I’ll get going.” She grabs my forearm as she leans over to whisper in my ear. “Very cute cop. And he already has his own handcuffs.”

“Rory!” I begin to blush as the officer looks down and laughs. Apparently her whisper carried a bit.

Rory heads for the door. “Anyway, thanks, Officer Marino, for giving my friend a break.”

“My pleasure,” he says, as she leaves and closes the door behind her.

I shake my head as I roll my eyes. “You’ll have to excuse her. She has a dirty mind.”

He flashes a devilish grin. “Fortunately, that’s not breaking any laws. If it were I’d have to arrest the whole city.”

“Would you like some coffee, Officer? It’ll just take a minute.”

“Thank you, but I’ve already had my break and I need to get back on patrol.”

Damn. “Cold soda for the road?”

“Sure.”

I head into the kitchen and open the fridge. “Cream or root beer?”

“Cream.”

I pulled out a can and hand it to him. “Here ya go.”

“Oooh, Doctor Brown’s. The young lady has the good stuff.”

“Only the best for New York’s finest.”

“Thanks, Miss Shaw.”

“Madison.”

“Right, Madison.” He starts to head for the door and I follow. He turns to face me, then shakes his finger at me like a teacher. “Now remember, young lady, no more speeding or running stop signs. Who would take care of those kittens if you got into an accident?”

I playfully put out my lower lip in a pout. “Yes, Officer. I promise to be a good girl. You won’t have to pull me over again.” Though I wouldn’t mind.

He reaches into his pocket and hands me a card. “Here’s my card if you ever need anything.”

“Such as?”

He shrugs. “You know. Ne’er-do-wells harassing you. Jars you can’t open. Cat up a tree.”

“I thought that last thing was the fire department’s jurisdiction.”

“Normally it is, but I’m a cat whisperer. I can talk one down if necessary.”

“Good to know. And now that you mention it, I do often have a problem with opening jars.”

“I’m a Jedi Master at that. Seriously, it’s a really nice thing you’re doing for those kittens.”

“Thanks. At first I thought it would be a burden, but now I really miss the little guys when I’m at work. Hence the lead foot.”

“Well, I know they appreciate the care you’re giving them. Cats are very perceptive creatures. They can sense when someone has a good heart. Anyway, gotta go and thanks for the soda.”

“Thanks for cutting me a break, Officer.”

“Nick.”

“Right. Nick.”

“Well, have a good night.”

“Be careful out there.”

He gives me an old fashioned tip of the hat, then heads out the door. I watch him get into his patrol car, see him shoot me a little smile before he drives away.

Rory is right.

Very cute cop.

And a cat person.

The phone rings the second I close the front door. Rory. Who was no doubt spying on me from her house again. I pull back the drapes and see my best friend through the window as I answer the call. “What?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Extremely hot cop alert. You could get your own personal Magic Mike sequel going with that one. I detected some definite chemistry.”

“Your radar is spot on. He gave me his card and told me to call if I needed anything. Like someone to open jars. Real cute.”

“Ah, he’s interested.”

“So why didn’t he ask me out?”

“He couldn’t. Yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He just let you out of a ticket and it would look like he traded a date with you for that. Either that or he probably figured a girl on national television already has someone.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“But trust me, he will. I saw that look he had.”

“He doesn’t have my phone number.”

“He knows where you live, sweetie. And he’s a cop, he could easily look it up.”

“True.”

“And you have his number. If I were you, I’d start lining up those jars you can’t open.”

I’ve just about made it through my first week at work but I’ve been doing something I’ve never done during my entire career.

Watching the clock.

Generally reporters don’t have time to do that since our days are so busy, but now I look forward to getting home and seeing my furry friends.

It’s four-thirty and thankfully I don’t have a live shot tonight so I’ll be home at a decent hour unless some breaking news keeps me here. Politicians are famous for their Friday afternoon document dumps, so I’m hoping that isn’t the case today. Besides, I’m clandestinely working on finding the smoking gun on a United States Senator who the CEO refers to as “Madison’s white whale.” I keep my research under the radar since I have been told in no uncertain terms to back off. I’ve always wondered if the Senator has photos of the CEO naked with a goat because everyone in the news business knows the guy is the poster child for dirty politicians. But I’m handcuffed since corporate won’t let me expend the time or newsroom resources digging up dirt on the guy. The other reason is that countless reporters have tried to go full Ahab on the guy over the years and come up empty. The Senator is really smart and has the unlimited resources to cover his tracks.

Or make them go away. Which is the scary part.

When I see my boss heading in my direction, I quickly shove my notes in a drawer and smile at him.

Barry Post, my short, bald forty year old News Director, arrives at my desk and leans his bulky frame on the edge. “Your story in the can already?”

Dammit, a document dump. He needs a reporter to go out on something. “Yeah. Why?”

He’s wearing a bit of a smile. “Need to run something by you in my office.” He cocks his head in that direction and gets up, so I follow him. Barry closes the door behind me as I take a seat in front of his desk. “I just got some bad news.”

“What, you sick or something?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s Fred.”

Our senior political reporter who covers the President’s re-election campaign. “What happened?”

“He fell down the stairs getting off Air Force One and broke his ankle. Compound fracture. You know, the kind where the bone sticks through—”

“Yeah, I get it. Ugh.” My face tightens as I try not to picture the accident. “Poor guy.”

“Anyway, he’ll be laid up for several months, and I need someone to fill in for him. Madison, I know this has always been your dream assignment.”

My eyes widen as I can’t help but smile. “Seriously? You want me to—”

“Yeah. Cover the President’s campaign till Fred’s back on his feet. Of course that means being on the road for weeks at a time.”

Suddenly it hits me.

The kittens.

My face drops a bit and he notices. “I thought you’d be doing cartwheels, Madison.”

“I, uh … well, I have some personal obligations. I would, uh, have to make some arrangements.”

“Something with your family? Everyone okay?”

Hell, I can’t tell the guy I might blow off the plum assignment of a career to take care of a bunch of kittens. “Yeah, it’s … well, it’s personal.”

“I hope you’re okay, Madison.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, Barry, can I let you know on Monday?”

“Sure. But I can’t wait any longer. I need a yes or no first thing Monday morning, and if it’s a no I have to give the assignment to Jennifer.”

He just made the decision even harder.

Chapter Four

It’s Friday night and I’m waiting for Kelly so I can go out and have a drink with my friends.

I need their input on this very difficult decision I have to make. Actually, the most difficult career decision I’ve ever made.

The doorbell rings as I’m staring at the ball of fur asleep in the box. When I get up and open the door I don’t find my cat sitter, but my next door neighbor the veterinarian. “Hi Jeff, I didn’t know you were back. How was your vacation?”

“Wonderful. How was the Hamptons? I hear it’s spectacular.”

“Didn’t go. Long story. I don’t wanna tell it and trust me, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Oh. Anyway, I just got back and I thought I’d see where the kittens ended up. So, since you didn’t take them with you on your trip did you find a shelter to take them?”

“Nope. They’re still here. I never bothered to look for a shelter. C’mon in and check ‘em out.”

He moves inside, crouches down next to the box and starts to examine the kittens. “They look very well fed. And clean. You’re doing a really good job with them. I’m impressed. If you ever want a job as my assistant, let me know.”

“I cannot take all the credit. Rory runs kitten day care for me while I’m at work.”

“Now that’s a true friend.” He reaches into the box and pulls out a kitten. “Let me give them a quick check. This one looks good.” He picks up each one and nods. “They look fine, Madison. Bring ‘em by the clinic next week and I’ll give them a thorough exam. No charge.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

He stands up and smiles. “I must say, I never expected this from you.”

“I never expected this from me either. But I got attached to them really quick.”

“And they can get attached to you. When you get kittens that young, they can imprint on you.”

“Huh?”

“Imprinting. That means they think you’re their mother.”

I stir my drink, not really looking at it but deep in thought.

Presidential campaign.

Leaving kittens who think I’m their mother. Would it break their little hearts?

Don’t answer that.

“Earth to Madison …”

I look up and see my three friends staring at me. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been in a position where I have absolutely no idea what to do. It’s the assignment every reporter dreams about, and it should be a no-brainer. But … damn, I just don’t know.”

Rory reaches over and pats my hand. “Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. You know that.”

A.J. sips her drink. “You leanin’ one way or the other?”

“It changes every five minutes. Of course it doesn’t help that if I turn it down the queen bitch of the newsroom will get the assignment. And she would find a way to rub it in my face every day till the election.”

“Don’t even take that into consideration,” says Tish. “I know you, and I know you want someone else to make this decision for you. That ain’t happenin’. This one you’ve got to figure out for yourself.”

“I know. At least I’ve got till Monday morning. Dammit! Why does this have to happen now?”

“Because sometimes life gets in the way of our plans.” Like I said, Tish is the most logical. “Perfect timing is a rare thing.”

A waiter interrupts the conversation as he slides a drink in front of me. “From the man at the end of the bar, near the door.”

I look up and see a short, bald guy with a goatee in a leather jacket and a spider web tattoo on his neck. Totally out of place in a classy bar like this one. He shoots me a smile while chewing on a toothpick. Not remotely my type. I shake my head. “Not now.” I hand the drink back to the waiter. “Tell him thank you but I have a boyfriend.”

“Sure thing.” He heads back to the bar as I turn to my friends. “Didn’t need the kittens to eliminate that one.”

Rory laughs. “A man is the last thing you need tonight. Neither is a ride on a Harley.”

“I dunno,” says A.J. “It might clear her head.”

“The man or a ride?”

“Both, with or without the motorcycle.”

Just as she says that, the drink reappears in front of me, hand delivered by the guy. “I bought you a drink, least you could do is take it.”

I look up at him and lean back since the guy smells like an ashtray. “Look, I’m not available, so send it to some other girl.”

“C’mon, Red, lighten up.”

“I said I’m not interested.” I slide the drink away without looking at him.

A.J. glares at the guy and turns on the accent. “Get lawst, buddy.”

“Hey, I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”

“I’m counting my blessings.”

I feel his hand on my shoulder and whip my head toward him. “Get your hands off me.”

And then I see another hand grab the guy’s shirt collar and pull him away.

Officer Marino.

“You’re bothering these young ladies,” he says, now holding the guy’s arm behind his back. The cop is not in uniform, but dressed head to toe in black. “Did you not hear her say she wasn’t interested?”

The guy winces. “I was just talkin’ to her.”

“Bull. I heard the woman ask you to leave her alone.” He turns to me. “Do you want to have a drink with this guy?”

“Hell no.”

He looks at my friends. “Do any of you want a drink with this guy?”

“No!” A chorus from the girls.

The cop turns back to him. “Now, here’s a life skill for you to learn that applies to women. No means no. What part of no do you not understand, the N or the O?”

I can’t help but laugh at the line.

“Now apologize to the young ladies.”

“Sorry.”

“That didn’t sound terribly sincere.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Good. Now we’re gonna take a little walk outside and I’m going to give you directions to the dive across town where I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” The cop turns and shoves the guy toward the door, following him out.

“Cute bouncer,” says A.J., watching him the whole way.

Rory smiles. “He’s a cop.”

Tish turns to her. “What, you know the guy?”

She nods and points at me. “The other night he pulled Freckles over in front of her house ‘cause she was speeding to get home to the kittens but he didn’t believe her story. So she invited him in to prove her case and he let her off with a warning after he saw the kittens. Of course, she gave him the Strawberry Shortcake look.”

Tish rolls her eyes. “Her trump card.”

“Hey, give me a break,” I say, stealing a quick look at the door. He still hasn’t returned. “He’s really nice.”

“Damn, a hot cop,” says A.J. “So invite him over to play stop and frisk. I’d jump on that if I were you.”

“You’d jump on anything,” says Rory.

A.J. waves her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “Pffft.”

“Anyway,” says Rory, “they had this big eye contact thing going and when he left he gave her his card, told her to call him if she needed anything. He’s definitely interested.”

I hear the door open and see Officer Marino come back inside and head toward our table. I slide my chair over to make room for him. “Thank you, kind sir. Appreciate the rescue from, as you put it, one of those ne’er-do-wells harassing me.”

“Not a problem.”

I pull an empty chair over from the next table and pat the seat. “Please, join us. I’m buying.”

“Sorry, I’m working. Hope that guy didn’t ruin your evening.”

“Thanks to you he didn’t.” I hear one of my friends clear her throat. “Oh, I’m being rude. Officer Marino, you already know Rory. That’s Tish and A.J.”

He nods at them. “Pleasure. We’ll if you guys are okay, I’d better get back to my duties.”

“So, you moonlight here?”

“Yeah, pick up some extra bucks. Saving up for a house. Well, see you around the neighborhood.”

“Sure. Thanks again.”

He starts to leave, then stops and turns back to me. “Oh, by the way, how are the kittens?”

“They’re doing fine. Fat and happy.”

He gives me a smile. “Good. Most people would have just dumped them at a shelter. It’s great that you didn’t abandon those little guys.”

Annddd … cue the guilt.

He heads back toward the bar while I turn back to my friends.

Rory locks eyes with me. “So … that clear things up a bit for ya?”

Kelly looks up from her textbook as I get home. “Have a nice time?”

“Yeah. Any problems?”

“Nope. They’re fed and cleaned up. All asleep but one.”

Suddenly I pick up the pace toward the box. “Something wrong?”

Kelly smiles. “Nah. I think your favorite is waiting up for you.”

I look at the box and see three kittens curled up together in a ball while the tortoiseshell sits in front of them. It starts to meow the moment it sees me and paws at the air, wanting to be picked up. “You okay, little guy?” I crouch down and pick up the kitten, resting it on my chest. It keeps talking, then begins to purr.

“I think he just missed you. He’s quiet when you’re not here.”

“He does demand more attention than the others.”

“I don’t think that’s it. He’s not that way with me. I think the tortoiseshell is a one-person cat, and you’re his person.”

I’m on my third cup of coffee at my usual corner table in A.J.’s family deli. The Saturday morning rush finally ends and she moves out from behind the counter to join me, sliding an Italian pastry in front of me as she sits with her own cup of java. “You get any sleep last night?”

I shake my head. “Hell no. Couldn’t stop thinking about my big decision. Kittens versus Air Force One.”

“So the wheels are still spinnin’?”

“Yeah.”

“What direction are they going?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay. What’s the story on the hot cop?”

“Rory already told you.”

“So, you gonna call him?”

“Huh?”

“I thought he gave you his card?”

“Yeah.” I reach in my purse and hand it to her.

She looks at it and rolls her eyes. “Marino. It figures.”

“What?”

“You guys get all the good paisans.”

“What do you mean, you guys?”

“You Irish girls. Italian men can’t resist you. They see the red hair and the freckles and it’s game over for the rest of us. You’re like their damn kryptonite.”

“Oh, stop it. You have men beating down your door.”

“All named Smith and Jones. I can’t ever find a good guy with a vowel at the end of his last name. So, you gonna call this cop, or what? You obviously like him.”

“You know I don’t call men.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we miss the Sadie Hawkins dance? For God’s sake, it’s not nineteen-fifty. You can ask a guy out.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

“You pick up the phone and say, Hey, I think you’re smoking hot and wanna jump your bones.”

“Very funny. Seriously, I’ve never asked a guy out for a date. I’m not sure I could do it. It’s a little scary for me.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re a network reporter, you take no prisoners with major politicians, you go on live television in front of millions of people, and you’re afraid to pick up the phone and call a guy?”

“The microphone and camera give me license to do all those things on TV. Without it … well … it’s just me.”

“Okay, so here’s what you do. Use a back door method of getting a date. You call the guy and tell him you want to thank him for saving you at the bar by cooking him dinner.”

“That might chase him away. You know I can burn a salad.”

“I’ll give you some simple recipes. Or how about this … I can simply box up some cannolis and you can drop by the police station to thank him personally. The precinct is right down the street from your house.”

I shake my head not wanting to deal with this right now. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, right. Coward.” She starts clucking like a chicken.

I shove the pastry in my mouth, take a big bite and talk through the crumbs. “Leave me alone.”

“Of course, if you take the Air Force One thing, you can’t ask him out. He thinks a lot of you because you’re taking care of those kittens. How would it look if you ditched them?”

“I think ditched is a rather strong term.”

“You like abandoned better?”

“I don’t believe this is happening. I’m considering turning down the dream job of a lifetime because of a bunch of cats and a guy who might like me. And I’m actually conflicted about it.”

She flashes a big smile. “Yep. And I must tell you, this is fun to watch.”

“I’m glad you find my current situation so amusing.”

The bell above the door rings announcing a customer. A little blonde girl carrying a bunch of papers who is trailed by her mother moves toward our table. “Excuse me … I need some help.”

A.J. turns to the girl, who is maybe eight years old. “What can I do for you, sweetie?”

She hands each of us a sheet of paper. “Would it be okay if I put this in your window?”

What’s on the paper tugs at my heart.

LOST CAT

Our beloved cat, Snowflake, got out of the house and is missing. She’s an indoor cat and not used to taking care of herself. She’s all white with one blue eye and one green eye, is wearing a red collar and answers to her name. She is very friendly. If you see her please call.

Below that is a photo of the girl hugging the cat.

A.J. smiles at her. “Sure, honey, put it right on the front door.”

“Thank you.”

The mom thanks A.J. as the girl moves to the glass door and tapes the flyer on the inside. I can’t stop looking at the picture. “Poor kid, lost her pet.”

“Poor cat,” says A.J. “Not sure how long an indoor cat can survive outside.”

“Hopefully one of your customers will see her.”

As previously mentioned Tish is my most logical friend and the one whose advice I seek when I’m stuck. (Though I didn’t take it regarding Jeremy.) We’re both dateless tonight while A.J. and Rory are out, so we’re sharing a bottle of wine and binge watching Justified on Netflix. Watching Timothy Olyphant waste a bunch of dumb rednecks is an enjoyable pastime of ours. (Okay, even if he didn’t shoot anyone we’d watch. Mea culpa.)

A soft meow makes me hit the pause button as I see the kittens are up, with their spokesman the tortoiseshell announcing the arrival of feeding time. I look at the clock and see they’re right on schedule. “I think they can tell time.”

Tish laughs. “Their stomachs can. You want help?”

“Sure.” I bring the box into the kitchen and prepare the bottles as Tish takes a seat. “Honestly, I don’t know how people with babies do this for a couple of years. This is wearing me out. I have new respect for working moms. And moms in general.”

“Well, this is a good experience if you ever become a real mom, though that is a helluva lot harder. I remember helping my mom take care of my little sister.” She picks up a kitten and starts to stroke its fur. “Speaking of which, did you ever talk about having children with Jeremy?”

“Why are you bringing up he-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Just curious. Since your date at the wedding made it clear he didn’t like kids. I was just wondering since you were talking about marrying the guy. It’s an obvious subject for a couple to discuss.”

“Now that I think about it, Jeremy never really talked about it much. Then again neither did I. Our careers were pretty much dominating our lives.” I hand her a bottle while I sit and grab the tortoiseshell. Tish starts feeding her kitten while I do the same.

“And now?”

“You’re starting, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Doing your lawyer thing where you ask a question when you already know the answer. I know all your tricks.”

“So you admit you’ve changed.”

“What, am I on the witness stand here? Stop cross-examining me. But yes, I’ve changed.”

“Isn’t it true that despite the lack of sleep you are enjoying taking care of these kittens?”

I don’t respond and look away.

“The witness is directed to answer the question. And may I remind her that she’s under oath.”

I shake my head and look back at her. “Fine. I like having them depend on me. And the way this one looks right into my heart …”

The kitten meows. I swear the furry little thing understands English.

Tish laughs. “I think we’ve just heard from the jury. You have been found guilty of caring.”

“So, you ever gonna give me your opinion on what I should do?”

“Asked and answered last night.”

“C’mon, Tish. I need help here.”

“Okay, fine. Sidebar. Let me ask you this. What’s the best story you ever did as a reporter?”

“That’s easy. The series I did on the veterans’ facility on Long Island that was run down.”

“Why do you consider that one your best?”

“Because it changed lives. The government got embarrassed and fixed the place up, the vets got the care they needed and the people who were embezzling funds are still in jail. And I felt really good after all that happened knowing I was responsible. I still have all the letters from veterans thanking me.”

“So, basically, would you agree that as a reporter the most important stories you do are the ones that make the world a better place?”

“Right. And I had to do a lot of old school journalism on that one. A ton of legwork and digging. I like investigative stuff. It’s like putting a really difficult puzzle together and you’re missing some pieces, but you can find them if you work hard.”

“And if you follow the President around on his campaign for a few months, will that take any investigative work?”

“Probably not. You’re part of a pool of reporters and just report what he does, get the best sound bites and do nightly live shots. I would ask strong questions, but the guy is a master at filibustering so you never get a straight answer. The odds of getting anything but his memorized talking points are slim.”

“Will your work on that assignment make the world a better place?”

I don’t answer as I look at the kitten.

“And will it make you a better person?”

I look up at her, my eyes a little wet. “I can see why you rarely lose a case.” I finish feeding the kitten, burp it, then pick up another one. “Tish, you know the worst thing about this decision?”

“No. What?”

“No matter what I choose, I’m going to feel bad about it. And always wonder if I did the right thing.”

“Something tells me you won’t.”

I finally get up around ten on Sunday morning, feeling like crap after too much wine and too little sleep. The middle of the night kitten feedings are catching up with me, but that will be over soon when they can feed themselves.

And of course, I still haven’t resolved my big dilemma.

A.J. made it worse throwing the cop into the mix.

Tish hit me with logic like a damn Vulcan on Star Trek.

Rory? She just gives me a look that tells me which way I should go.

A few weeks ago my life was simple. Decisions were easy. Black and white.

Now I’ve added gray and tortoiseshell and stripes into the equation.

I stagger into the kitchen to prepare the bottles for the kittens when I see something that makes me wide awake.

The box of kittens is empty.

They’re gone!

“What the hell?”

My eyes widen as try to replay the events of the evening. I fed them at two in the morning and put them back in the box.

Didn’t I?

A loud meow distracts me and I whip my head toward the noise.

And see the tortoiseshell halfway up the dining room curtains. “Oh, for God’s sake. There you are. Where are your friends?”

The doorbell rings as the tortoiseshell continues talking, as if to say, “Hey, look at me, I can climb!” I head to the door, shuffling my feet so as not to step on a kitten along the way.

It’s Rory, carrying a grocery bag of food for Sunday brunch. “Watch where you walk!”

She studies my face. “Huh?”

“The kittens got out of the box and I don’t know where they are.” The tortoiseshell meows and I cock my head in his direction. “Well, I know where one is.”

“Oooh, I love what you’ve done with the curtains.” Rory comes in and we start looking for the kittens. She finds one under the couch while the other two are busy playing on a chair with a hair scrunchy.

The tortoiseshell protests as I pull him off the curtains. “Okay, I need a bigger cardboard box.”

Rory rolls her eyes as she holds two of the kittens. “Uh, you do know that cats can climb trees, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“They’ll just climb out of a bigger box. They have claws.”

“Oh, right.”

“They’re obviously bored and tired of being cooped up. They want to play and explore. Cats have that curiosity thing hardwired into them. You’re gonna have to let them out.”

“Well I can’t have them running around the house getting underfoot. I might accidentally step on one. And I can’t have them climbing up the curtains.”

“Put ‘em in that spare room. All you’ve got in there is exercise equipment. It’s a warm, sunny room and they can run around and play. But make a bed for them so they can snuggle.”

“So now the kittens are getting their own room.”

Rory nods and shoots me a smile. “They’re like the camel asking to stick its nose under the tent. Pretty soon you’ll be asking them for space.”

Chapter Five

Befitting my mood, it’s raining heavily as I drive home on Monday evening.

Below the speed limit. (Not a good thing to do in New York if you don’t want the bird flipped at you.)

My emotional roller coaster has sucked the life out of me. And my lead foot. I’ve become like those zombies I see in Grand Central about to go home on the train, one of the commuting undead.

The moment I gave my boss my decision, I began to second guess myself.

Back and forth all day.

I did the right thing.

Or did I?

I pull into my driveway and trudge up the steps, head down. Inside I find Rory working on her laptop. She looks up and studies my face. “Uh-oh. I know that look.”

I shake my head as I attempt to hang up my raincoat, but I miss the hook and it falls to the floor.

I roll my eyes and leave it there.

She gets up and moves toward me. “Well? What did you decide?” She grabs my raincoat off the floor and hangs it up.

“I’m not on Air Force One, am I?”

She flashes a wide smile, then gives me a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Are you still proud of me if I tell you I’ve been wondering if I made the wrong decision all day?”

She breaks the embrace and leans back. “Yep. You can replay it all you want. Bottom line, you did the right thing. Freckles, you’ve got nothing to prove. You’ve already reached the top of the food chain in your career. Covering the guy in the White House for several months cannot be that appealing.”

“I guess. Y’know, funny thing I discovered about my chosen profession today that I never noticed before. People will eat their young for a promotion. Right after I told my boss I was turning down the assignment he threw it open to anyone who wanted to toss his hat in the ring.”

“I thought he was gonna give it to that woman you hate?”

“Perhaps the higher-ups realized she’s a brainless bimbo. Anyway, you should have heard my cohorts bad-mouthing one another all day, trying to get the assignment.”

“So who got it?”

“They hadn’t decided when I left.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking it’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m thinking that the people in the news business need souls.”

“Well, you’re okay in that department, Freckles. Yours is beautiful.”

A loud meow from behind distracts me. “Aren’t the kittens in the spare room?”

Rory looks past me and points. “That’s not one of your kittens.”

I turn and see a soaking wet cat in the window, shivering and crying. “Awww. Poor thing got stuck in the rain.” I move to the window and open it. The cat dashes in and immediately shakes, sending a spray of water everywhere. But it’s still shivering. I grab a towel from the bathroom and kneel down to begin drying it off. “Talk about a drowned rat. Okay, kitty, you can stay here till the rain stops.”

And then it hits me.

White cat with one blue eye and one green eye.

And a red collar.

“Rory, I know this cat!”

“Huh?”

“She’s been lost. Belongs to a little girl I met at A.J.’s deli.” I quickly run to the kitchen and grab the flyer I’d put on the bulletin board, then head back to the living room and hand it to Rory, who has taken over cat drying duties. “Her name is Snowflake.”

The cat meows and looks up at me when I say her name.

Rory looks at the flyer. “Well, one little girl is gonna be real happy.”

I grab my phone and call the number on the flyer. It goes to voicemail so I leave a message. “Nobody’s home.”

“The cat is probably hungry.”

“I don’t have any adult cat food. I’ve got a can of salmon. Think she’d eat that?”

“Geez, Freckles, I dunno if cats like fish.”

Palm slap. “Duh.”

Three hours later Snowflake is dry and curled up at my feet as the doorbell rings. I answer the door and find the little girl and her parents wearing big smiles. The girl yells “Snowflake!” and runs past me. The cat immediately perks up, runs to the girl and jumps in her arms, then starts licking her. The girl hugs her tight.

I feel my eyes well up a bit as I usher her parents inside.

“Thank you so much,” says her mother, the spitting image of her daughter. “By the way, I’m Joanne and he’s Jonathan. My daughter has been devastated since the cat went missing. How did you find her?”

“I saw her in the window when it was raining, so I brought her in. Then I realized she was the lost cat on the flyer. I was in the deli when you guys came by.”

“Really nice of you,” says her dad, a tall, sandy-haired man around thirty who looks like a young Robert Redford. He smiles as he watches the girl and the cat.

“Looks like your daughter and Snowflake have a special bond.”

The guy turns back to me. “Oh, I’m not her dad. I’m her uncle. Joanne’s brother.”

The woman drops her voice a bit. “My ex is out of the picture.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. Samantha and I are doing fine. And Jonathan is a big help.”

I hear the tortoiseshell crying from the spare room.

The little girl looks at the door. “Oh, you have a cat too?”

“Right now I have four little kittens. You wanna see them?”

“Yeah!”

I lead everyone to the spare room where I find the tortoiseshell sitting up in front of the other three, as it’s feeding time. The little girl kneels down and begins petting them. “Where’s the mother cat?” she asks.

“Well, unfortunately she went to cat heaven.”

“Oh no.”

I tell them the story of finding the kittens. “Anyway, I’m taking her place until they’re old enough to feed themselves. Would you like to help me bottle feed them?”

The little girl turns to her mother. “Can I, mom? Please?”

“Sure, honey.”

I go to the kitchen and return with the bottles of formula. I sit on the floor next to Samantha and show her how it’s done. “Okay, now, hold your kitten very gently and put the bottle in front of it. It knows what to do.”

The child follows my instructions and beams as the kitten latches onto the bottle and begins draining it.

Her mother pulls out a cell phone. “Oh, this is too cute. I have to get a picture and some video of this.” She crouches down and aims the phone.

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