The Christmas Cat Part 7

Garrison returned to the Landerses' house, depositing the box inside the door and going over some particulars about their new cat, including her need for a gluten-free diet. At least they wouldn't have to worry about her sneaking food from the other cats and getting sick. Muzzy was on her own here. And already she was comfortably seated in Jackson's lap, and he was happily stroking her sleek dark coat.

"I'll leave you to it." Garrison reached for the poinsettia plant, still on the foyer table.

"You're taking that back?" David looked concerned.

"Cara's home now," Garrison told him. "I'll just take it over."

"Oh . . . okay." David frowned. "But I'm happy to-"

"No problem," Garrison said lightly. "I already said h.e.l.lo to her. I'll just run it over while I'm here."

David just nodded, but he didn't seem overly pleased. He had probably been looking forward to another excuse to pop in on his neighbor. Maybe their relations.h.i.+p wasn't as solid as David had made it seem. Or maybe it was. Maybe he felt jealous of Garrison's interest in her now. Wouldn't that be a twist.

"Thanks so much for the cat." David shook his hand. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah," Jackson said with glowing eyes. "Thanks, Mister, uh, Brown. Thanks a lot."

"You're more than welcome, Jackson. I think my grandmother would be really pleased to see that Muzzy has found such a good home. I hope you really enjoy each other."

As Garrison carried his paper-covered poinsettia plant over to Cara's he had a sense of real accomplishment. But at the same time he felt uneasy. Maybe it was a mistake trying to befriend Cara like this. She seemed to be making herself clear-she had no interest in being anything more than a cool and casual acquaintance with him. Maybe he should just take a hint.

8.

For me?" Cara looked truly surprised as he handed her the hooded planter and card.

"Yes." He forced a nervous smile. "To show my grat.i.tude."

"Grat.i.tude for what?"

"For sharing Thanksgiving dinner with me," he said sheepishly, "although I suspect you hadn't really meant to have me in your home. More than that, it's to say thanks for encouraging your friends-Beth and Annabelle and Vincent-to adopt cats from me."

She shrugged. "Oh . . . well . . ."

"I really appreciate you connecting them to me."

"They just seemed like good candidates." She made a smirk at him. "Unlike me."

Garrison felt deflated.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to go there." She gave him a genuine smile. "Why don't you come inside? It's cold out here. And I'd like to see what's in this package."

He felt instantly at home inside her house. And he was amused to see that it was actually bigger than it had seemed on Thanksgiving. "You have a really nice place," he said as she set the package on a coffee table and opened the card.

"Thanks." She nodded, then held up the card. "And thanks for this too." She leaned over and peeled the hood from the plant. To Garrison's relief the delicate pink blossoms were all still intact. "Why, it's beautiful," she gushed. "But you really didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," he clarified. "I felt like we got off on the wrong foot. And, well, since we're neighbors and all. And you've been such an a.s.set in finding homes for my cats. Even discovering your neighbor David today came as a result of trying to drop this plant by your house."

"And he really took a cat?" she said with interest.

Garrison explained about Muzzy's chattiness and how she seemed a good match for Jackson. "I thought Muzzy might get him to relax and talk more . . . you know?"

"That's brilliant!" She picked up the poinsettia plant, carried it to her dining area, and, just like Garrison had imagined, she placed it on the dark-stained table. "Perfect."

"I couldn't agree more." He smiled. "Now I should let you get back to whatever you were doing."

"Just putting away groceries," she said as she went into the kitchen. "There's this great natural food store down the street from my employer. And since I have to go into the office on Mondays, I usually stock up."

"David mentioned that you had meetings on Mondays." He didn't know what to do, so he followed her into the kitchen. It was small and old-fas.h.i.+oned, similar to Gram's. Except that it was in better shape.

"Dear David," she said as she removed an acorn squash from her cloth shopping bag. "I'm so lucky to have him next door."

"He seems to feel the same," Garrison admitted.

She studied him as she took out a large red onion. "Yes, it's nice to have good neighbors . . . don't you think?"

"Absolutely. I adore Ruby."

"She is a dear."

"And it seems obvious that you've made lots of friends in the neighborhood." He watched as she set some really nice-looking tomatoes on the tile-topped counter.

"You mean for a newcomer?" she teased.

"Yes . . . well, you know what I mean."

"Uh-huh. I'd venture to say I know more people in this neighborhood than you do."

"I'm sure that's true. Although, at the rate I'm going-finding homes for these cats-I might catch up."

"Well, except that you must be nearly out of cats. How many do you have left?"

"Just two. Oreo and Harry."

"Right . . ."

"And in my opinion they are the best ones of the batch. They should be easy to place."

"No doubt." She set a pair of zucchinis on the counter and smiled. "Well, thanks so much for the lovely poinsettia. It really brightens up the place. Puts me in the Christmas spirit." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Now if I could just find myself a good cat."

Garrison cringed. "Okay, I get the hint."

"Sorry . . ." She held up her hands. "I know I can be a terrible tease sometimes." She walked up close to him and looked directly into his eyes. "Really, no hard feelings. Okay?"

He tilted his head to one side as if unconvinced. "I don't know . . ."

"What?"

"I'm not so sure I can trust you, Cara. You seem intent on harboring resentments against me. I'm beginning to think you'll never forgive me."

"Of course, I forgive you, Garrison. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I don't know about that," he said in a slightly taunting tone. "A guy could take it personally."

"Well, that's ridiculous. I was just jerking your chain. I'm completely over the whole business with the cat and-"

"I might need more convincing," he said.

"Huh?"

"If you've really forgiven me, Cara, how about if you . . . say . . . went out to dinner with me?" He cringed inwardly. Had he really just said that?

"What?" She frowned. "Is this some kind of dating blackmail?"

He grinned nervously. "Maybe. Although I've never resorted to blackmail dates before." The truth was that his dating experience was embarra.s.singly limited.

She looked at the produce spread over her counter. "When do you want to go for dinner?" she asked.

"You name it."

She gave him a doubtful look. "Tonight?"

He concealed his surprise. "Sure, tonight is great. No problem."

"Good." She folded the bag and nodded firmly. "Despite collecting all these yummy vegetables today, I really didn't feel like cooking. It's been a long day."

As they put on their coats, Garrison could not believe his luck. Cara had actually agreed to go to dinner with him. Okay, maybe she just didn't want to cook at home, but what difference did it make? This was his chance to get to know her better. And maybe this meant that she and her neighbor David weren't as involved as he had a.s.sumed they were. Maybe he really did have a chance. Now if he could just not blow it.

"Do you mind if we meet there?" she asked as they went outside.

He tried not to look disappointed. "Are you afraid of my grandmother's old Pontiac?" He tipped his head to David's driveway where his car was still parked. Suddenly he was more aware than ever of the dull green paint, the dent in the right fender. He knew a little paint and TLC could turn the car into a real gem, but right now she looked pretty forlorn-although the interior was in good shape.

"No. I just like feeling independent." Cara tilted her chin up. "I'll have my own wheels-just in case we both decide we can't stand each other after all."

He frowned. "You really think that's going to happen?"

"You never can tell." She gave him a cheesy grin as she opened her car door. "I mean, if I'm not good enough for your cat, how could I be good enough for you?"

"But you said you'd-"

"Meet you at Fowlers'," she called as she closed her door.

He nodded. Fowlers' Fish House? That's where she wanted to go on their "first date"? Okay, he reminded himself, maybe this wasn't really a date. Maybe it was more like two people getting better acquainted over fish and chips. An icy rain was coming down as he drove to town. A night not fit for man or beasts. But he was not going to back down due to bad weather. And by the time he parked in front of Fowlers', which did not look very busy, a steaming bowl of chowder was starting to sound pretty good.

He jogged through the rain and caught up with her as she was going in the door. The whole restaurant was glowing, both inside and outside, with hundreds of multi-colored Christmas lights. The sight of a gaudily decorated fake tree and the smell of fried fish greeted him as he went inside. Everywhere he looked were the bright trappings and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of Christmas. As a child he would've loved this. As an adult, it was a little over the top. But at least it was warm in here. That was something.

"Festive," he told Cara as he peeled off his coat.

She pointed to a glossy pine picnic table next to the window. "That okay?"

"Sure." He followed her over to the table and sat down across from her. "I haven't been here in years," he confessed. "But I used to like this place when I was a kid."

"I consider Fowlers' as one of my guilty pleasures," she said as she unwound a bright red scarf from around her neck.

"Why a guilty pleasure?"

"I heard how many calories are in their fish basket." As she reached for a greasy menu, she wrinkled her nose. Totally endearing. "As a result, I try to limit myself to only once a week."

"Right." He nodded. "Although I'm not sure why you're concerned about calories. Frankly, after seeing all that produce in your kitchen, I'm relieved you're not a vegetarian or vegan or something like that."

She laughed. "No, I tried being a vegan briefly after college, but my hair started to fall out. However, I do try to eat my vegetables." Her smile faded. "That's something my mom always tried to get me to do . . . when she was alive. I didn't do such a great job then, but I'm trying to make up for it now."

"I'm sorry." He peered at her. "Has she been gone for long?"

"I was in my second year at college when she was diagnosed." She pulled a napkin out of the container, using it to wipe wet raindrops from her face. "Just the age when I was really starting to appreciate my mom. She battled cancer for about three years. She made it to my graduation . . . but not long after that."

"That's hard," he said sadly. "I kind of know how you feel. I lost both of my parents when I was twelve."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Yeah . . . my grandma took me in. I was quite a handful. But my grandma-she was a really special lady. I honestly don't know where I'd be without her."

Her brown eyes grew warmer and softer. "And that's why you want to honor her wishes with her cats."

He nodded soberly. "Even when it's not easy."

"Well, that's very respectable, Garrison. I'm sorry I was such a pill about Harry. I hope you find him the perfect home."

Garrison talked a little about the recent cat placements and how they all seemed to be working out perfectly. "Almost like Gram is up there in heaven orchestrating the whole thing." He smiled at Cara. "Or like she sent me an angel to help out. Again, I have to thank you."

"I'm happy to be of help. And that reminds me. I have another friend and I think she might be perfect for a cat. In fact, she would probably fall in love with Harry."

He nodded, but felt a small wave of uncertainty. As badly as he wanted to be rid of the cats and to sell Gram's house and to be on his way, he knew he was getting attached to that big Maine c.o.o.n cat. "Who is that?" he asked carefully.

"Her name is Sabrina," Cara began. "She's a real sweetheart."

"And she lives in our neighborhood."

"Yes. That's how we met. She lives on the street behind me. We share the same backyard fence. Her yard is absolutely gorgeous and she's promised to give me gardening tips next spring."

"Sounds like a nice neighbor."

"Yes. Sabrina is one of those women who can do everything. I mean, she cooks and gardens and sews and does crafts-the works. She's been a real inspiration to me."