Page 5 of We Can Stay
“She’s young and adoptable. She’d probably be fine.” Probably. Maybe. The statistics aren’t great, but I don’t need to share that. “I could make some calls, see if any of the rescue groups have space?”
She looks at the kitten, who chooses that moment to yawn, showing tiny needle teeth and a pink tongue no bigger than a pencil eraser. I watch Flick’s expression soften, and I know that look. I’ve seen it a thousand times. It’s the look of someone who’s already attached but doesn’t know it yet.
“That’d be great. I... I don’t know anything about cats,” she says weakly. “I work constantly. I live alone. I travel for yarn shows.”
“Cats are easy to care for,” I offer. “They tell you when they need things. Loudly. At three in the morning.”
She laughs, but it’s strained. “That’s not really selling it.”
“How about a trial run?” The suggestion comes out before I can think it through. “Take her for a few days. See how it goes. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll personally help find her a good home.”
“You’d do that?”
I would do a lot more than that, apparently, because the next words out of my mouth are: “Sure. Occupational hazard—I’m a sucker for animals in need.” I pause, then add, because apparently I have no self-control today: “Plus, it would give me an excuse to check on her. Medical follow-up to see how it’s going.”
“I don’t have any cat stuff,” Flick says, but I can see her weakening. The kitten has started purring, a tiny rumble that sounds more like a bee than a cat.
“I’ll send you home with a few things for tonight. We’ve got sample packets of food and I’ll throw in a litter box and a few toys.” I check the calendar on the wall, my plan forming even as I speak. “Then tomorrow I can drop by some more stuff, if that’d be okay? I’d do it tonight, but I have a shift at the emergency clinic after the office closes.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Wow, you stay busy. That’s a lot of extra work for you.”
“I don’t mind. I want to make sure you have what you need for this kitten to be well taken care of. And to give you a chance and see if things will work out.”
Also—not that I’ll be telling her this—I’d like to see Flick again.
“That’s really nice of you, but?—”
“Unless that’s too weird for you. I can arrange for some things to be left at the front desk and you could swing by, if you’d rather. I can understand why some people might not want veterinarians making house calls to deliver cat supplies to complete strangers who called them hot.”
Her face flames red again. “I’m so sorry about that. My friend Hannah said—I mean, she mentioned—Oh God, please stop me before I make this worse.”
I grin, suddenly feeling more relaxed than I have in months. “Hannah with the anxious golden retriever?”
“That’s her.”
“She’s great. Barkley, however, is a menace. Ate one of my shoelaces last visit.” I start pulling supplies from cabinets, Gerald watching with interest. “And for what it’s worth, Hannah called me ‘aggressively single’ last time she was here, so I think she’s trying to set us up.”
“That sounds like Hannah,” Flick mutters, and I catch her giving me a quick once-over when she thinks I’m not looking. The appreciation in her gaze makes my pulse kick up a notch.
“So, can I get your address so I know where to drop off the rest of the supplies?” I grab a pen and small notepad, waiting.
“Oh, right. I’m not far away actually. I live in the condos off Rosemary. Unit 1C.”
Nodding, I make a quick note of her address, starting to wonder again how I’ve never seen her around–then decide to just ask. Hopefully, Flick won’t think I’m being intrusive in any way. “I can’t believe I’ve not seen you around before.”
“Well, unless you’ve been to Knit Happens you probably wouldn’t have seen me.”
“Ah, no. I can’t say I’ve been there. That’s Hannah’s shop, right? I believe she’s mentioned it before.”
“Yep. That’s right. I work there part-time a few days a week, helping her out and if I’m not there, I’m working from home.I have my own yarn-dying business and make some how-to videos.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.” I dig in the cabinet for a bag. “So, you’re some kind of internet celebrity?”
Flick shakes her head reaching for the kitten. “Hardly a celebrity. I just have a small business and make some videos.” Her phone buzzes, and she glances at it with a slight frown before putting it away. “Actually, small might be generous. Microscopic business.”
“Hey, we all start somewhere. I opened this practice five years ago with three clients and a ferret who kept stealing their credit cards.” I pile supplies into a bag with the clinic’s logo. “Speaking of which—Gerald, drop it.”
The ferret reluctantly releases a pen he’d been hoarding.
