sister wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, Garrison, but I don’t care much for cats.”
“That’s right,” her sister agreed. “Winifred had a bad experience as a child. She abhors cats.”
“To be honest, I’m not terribly fond of cats myself, but I’m trying to adapt to them. I tell myself it’s mind over matter. I hope that if I don’t think about it too much, it won’t matter.” He chuckled and then explained about his allergies. “If I forget to take my antihistamines I am a complete mess.”
“You should eat ginger,” the older sister said. “It helps with my hay fever.”
“Really?” Garrison nodded at them as he glanced over to where Cara was welcoming an older man into her home, hugging him and taking his coat. The perfect hostess . . . to everyone else.
Garrison put great effort into acting natural and relaxed as he chatted and dined with his neighbors, but the whole while he felt uneasy. Plus he was distracted with keeping one eye on the pretty hostess. Partly because he couldn’t help himself, and partly because he sensed that Cara was purposely avoiding him. She was never rude, but at the same time she never exchanged more than the briefest of conversation with him. Yet she remained friendly and warm and congenial to everyone else. It was unnerving.
For that reason, Garrison made an excuse to leave early—even before dessert was served. He knew it was bad manners as he abruptly thanked his hostess, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. After being reassured that Ruby could get a ride home, he explained his need to see to his cats. Naturally, this led to some goodhearted teasing at his expense. Particularly from some of the younger guests that, due to the Dorchester sisters, he’d not had the opportunity to get acquainted with.
He forced a smile, waved goodbye, and tried to take the whole social fiasco in stride as he left. So what if they shared some laughs at his expense after he was gone. He was just relieved to get away from there. Not only had that “charming” little gingerbread house been overly small and overly crowded, it had literally felt as if the walls had been closing in on him.
As he drove home, he thought about Cara. She had looked so pretty in that deep-red dress. And she had such an engaging smile. An endearing laugh. Yet it was obvious that the girl was harboring a serious grudge against him. She must’ve taken it personally when he’d refused to hand over Harry. He wished he could explain the will dilemma to her again—to somehow make her understand—but really, what more could he say? Perhaps it was best to let sleeping dogs lie . . . or should he say sleeping cats ?
6
G arrison knew that his heart was softening toward Gram’s small herd of cats. Okay, he didn’t actually like all of them. Muzzy’s obnoxious Siamese howling was truly disturbing and Spooky’s moodiness was irritating, but he attributed their bad manners to their general displeasure with him . . . and missing their previous owner. However, Rusty and Oreo were fairly easy to get along with. And then there was Harry . . . that big, slightly wild-looking animal had the best feline manners, not to mention intelligence. Harry was clearly his favorite. Even so Garrison knew he needed to find homes for all five of them. Good homes. No regrets.
This was driven even more firmly home when his phone rang on Friday morning. The man who had interviewed him last week, the same day that Gram had died, was calling to offer him the job. Garrison explained about his grandmother. “So I really need to see to some things regarding her estate,”he told him. “I might be able to tie it up in a week. Maybe two if I’m lucky.”
“No problem. December is always a slow month for the foundation. Although I would like to get you in the office for some important meetings before Christmas.” He listed some specific dates. “That’s when we start planning for the upcoming year. We
“That’s right,” her sister agreed. “Winifred had a bad experience as a child. She abhors cats.”
“To be honest, I’m not terribly fond of cats myself, but I’m trying to adapt to them. I tell myself it’s mind over matter. I hope that if I don’t think about it too much, it won’t matter.” He chuckled and then explained about his allergies. “If I forget to take my antihistamines I am a complete mess.”
“You should eat ginger,” the older sister said. “It helps with my hay fever.”
“Really?” Garrison nodded at them as he glanced over to where Cara was welcoming an older man into her home, hugging him and taking his coat. The perfect hostess . . . to everyone else.
Garrison put great effort into acting natural and relaxed as he chatted and dined with his neighbors, but the whole while he felt uneasy. Plus he was distracted with keeping one eye on the pretty hostess. Partly because he couldn’t help himself, and partly because he sensed that Cara was purposely avoiding him. She was never rude, but at the same time she never exchanged more than the briefest of conversation with him. Yet she remained friendly and warm and congenial to everyone else. It was unnerving.
For that reason, Garrison made an excuse to leave early—even before dessert was served. He knew it was bad manners as he abruptly thanked his hostess, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. After being reassured that Ruby could get a ride home, he explained his need to see to his cats. Naturally, this led to some goodhearted teasing at his expense. Particularly from some of the younger guests that, due to the Dorchester sisters, he’d not had the opportunity to get acquainted with.
He forced a smile, waved goodbye, and tried to take the whole social fiasco in stride as he left. So what if they shared some laughs at his expense after he was gone. He was just relieved to get away from there. Not only had that “charming” little gingerbread house been overly small and overly crowded, it had literally felt as if the walls had been closing in on him.
As he drove home, he thought about Cara. She had looked so pretty in that deep-red dress. And she had such an engaging smile. An endearing laugh. Yet it was obvious that the girl was harboring a serious grudge against him. She must’ve taken it personally when he’d refused to hand over Harry. He wished he could explain the will dilemma to her again—to somehow make her understand—but really, what more could he say? Perhaps it was best to let sleeping dogs lie . . . or should he say sleeping cats ?
6
G arrison knew that his heart was softening toward Gram’s small herd of cats. Okay, he didn’t actually like all of them. Muzzy’s obnoxious Siamese howling was truly disturbing and Spooky’s moodiness was irritating, but he attributed their bad manners to their general displeasure with him . . . and missing their previous owner. However, Rusty and Oreo were fairly easy to get along with. And then there was Harry . . . that big, slightly wild-looking animal had the best feline manners, not to mention intelligence. Harry was clearly his favorite. Even so Garrison knew he needed to find homes for all five of them. Good homes. No regrets.
This was driven even more firmly home when his phone rang on Friday morning. The man who had interviewed him last week, the same day that Gram had died, was calling to offer him the job. Garrison explained about his grandmother. “So I really need to see to some things regarding her estate,”he told him. “I might be able to tie it up in a week. Maybe two if I’m lucky.”
“No problem. December is always a slow month for the foundation. Although I would like to get you in the office for some important meetings before Christmas.” He listed some specific dates. “That’s when we start planning for the upcoming year. We
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