Page 6 of Finally Moore

“And if they don’t know who the owner is?” Jax asks, returning my attention to the furry task at hand.

“I’ll figure it out.” I shrug. It’s just another benefit of living in a small town. If she has an owner, I’ll find them.

“Whatever. Better start picking out names and grab yourself a litter box. You’re about to have a fur baby.” Jax strolls inside, still laughing at his lame joke as the door closes behind him.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk smiles as I enter our local veterinary clinic.

“Yeah, I found this cat in the alley. I was wondering if you might know the owner or if they have one?”

“That’s so sweet of you to bring them in.” The receptionist stands and extends her arms to take the cat from me. “Aren’t you just a big ol’ lover?”

“Yeah, it seems a little too nice to be a stray.” I reach a hand over to scratch my new friend behind the ear.

“Well, let me see if he’s chipped.”

“He?”

She inspects the cat a second time. “Yup, he’s definitely a big boy. I’m going to get the scanner and see what we can find.” A few seconds later, the woman returns with a device, which she waves along the cat’s spine, then up to his neck and back again. “It looks like you’re in luck. This little guy has a home.”

“Oh, that’s good. Are they in town? I can drop him off.”

“Let me see.” She plops the cat back into my arms and writes down some code before returning to her computer. “His name is Bruce.”

“Bruce?” I look at his face. Seems like an odd name for a pet. Then again, now that I’ve heard it, it also seems oddly fitting.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the names we hear.” The woman chuckles. “Let me call the number on file and see if I can get in touch with the owner.” Bruce remains content, purring against my chest, as the receptionist dials the phone. “Hello, Scarlett? This is Mavis with Tral Lake Pet Hospital. Bruce was found and brought into our clinic. If you can please return my call as soon as you get this. My number is 507-555-2287.”

I quirk a brow at the name. There is only one Scarlett I know in town. “Does he happen to belong to Scarlett Valentine?” Though Mavis doesn’t answer me right away, the way she glances at the screen tells me I’m right. “She’s a friend,” I add.

The receptionist still doesn’t seem convinced, so I reposition Bruce into one arm, shove a hand into my pocket, and pull out my phone. I unlock the screen and scroll to the name in my contacts before passing the device to Mavis.

“Correction: she’s actually friends with my younger sister. So I guess we are more like acquaintances.” My fingers tap along the counter. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous… or insistent on seeing that this little guy makes it home safe.

I tell myself it’s because it’s the right thing to do, and not because I’ve grown attached to someone else’s pet in a matter of minutes. When Mavis continues to glare at me like cat-napping is my favorite pastime, I ramble on.

“Scarlett, she runs the inn… She stops by my coffee shop religiously, for her daily fix of a death-by-chocolate muffin that she chases down with a large dark chocolate and oat-milk mocha, with two extra shots of espresso.” Mavis’s jaw drops as I rattle off Scarlett’s usual order, and I can only assume the woman is impressed by the extreme caffeine intake. “If you think that’s impressive, sometimes she comes in for a second.”

That earns me a smile. Mavis glances around before leaning forward. “Look, we’re not supposed to do this,” she whispers. “But given I know your family, and it seems you really do know Miss Valentine, I’ll break the rules thisonetime.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“But, if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

I make the motion of zipping my lips shut, turning the lock, and throwing away the key. Then I glance down at the bundle of fur cradled in my arms. “All right, Bruce, let’s get you home to your mama.”

Chapter two

Scarlett

“Roomtencalledagain.They say their heat still isn’t working right,” Hannah, my night manager and absolute savior, informs me as soon as I step foot in the back to grab towels for the couple in eight.

“Room ten, got it.”

This spring, I really need to look into replacing windows, getting better insulation, new HVAC? Maybe all the above. Lord knows while Grandpa kept this place up and running over the years that, prior to my arrival, there hadn’t been any improvements since the 1950s. Not that he was making much of a profit to do so, according to his books. At least not for the past fifteen years.

It’s fine. I’m not worried. I can already say that since I’ve been here and began applying the skills and trade I know, the profit margin has already begun to move in a positive direction. It’ll just take time, which I have plenty of.

“Don’t forget, Mommy Dearest—”

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