A home. Like this one. That was what he wanted. A place to come to, with the right woman in it, a place that gave meaning to a hard day of checking up on contractors and arguing over record drawings.
Funny how it could take some guys almost half a lifetime to figure out something so simple, while other guys—guys like Andy—knew it from the first.
Andy. Nick shook his head. Still, even after four years, he felt a certain tightness across his chest when Andy came to mind. The tall, skinny kid with the chemistry book under one arm and the basketball in the other had been the best kind of friend. Someone a guy could talk to. About anything. Someone who had a lot of stuff figured out early, but would never rub your face in what he knew.
The truth was, Nick still talked to Andy. Not that he would admit such a thing to anyone else. People would think he was a few cans short of a six-pack, if they knew. So Nick kept his mouth shut about it. The way he saw it, his little talks with Andy did him a hell of a lot of good. And they were nobody's business but his own.
Jenny pulled a mushroom from a plastic bag, rinsed it quickly, wiped the water off with a paper towel and went to work on it with her knife.
Nick wondered, was Sasha cooking dinner right now?
He'd never actually seen Sasha cook anything. In the short time they were together, they'd always eaten out. But she wanted a husband, just as he wanted a wife. And maybe it didn't matter who did the cooking, as long as it got done. He could cook a little himself, as a matter of fact. The important thing was that they sat down together, as he did now almost every night, with Jen and Polly. The sitting down together, passing the food around, gave a real feeling of completeness to the day.
Jenny was slicing green onions now. She glanced at him again, a questioning kind of look, as if she didn't know what he was up to, just standing there, watching her.
He thought of the little ball of fur, crouched out there in the ivy. "Any of your neighbors got a kitten? A scroungy-looking orange one?"
She set the knife aside, gathered up the sliced onions in both hands and dropped them into the bowl. Then she rinsed her hands and reached for a towel. "A kitten?" She wiped her hands dry. "Not that I know of. Why?"
"There's one out in the ivy, under the living-room window."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
Jenny hung up the towel. "Show me."
He led her out the way he'd come, pulling open the front door and gesturing her through ahead of him. They went down the single step to the walk and he pointed at the spot in the ivy, where he'd seen the kitten. "It was right there, all curled up under the leaves. It stuck out its head and meowed at me."
Jenny peered where he pointed. "I suppose it's wandered off. Maybe back wherever it came from."
Right then, behind them, the front door opened and Polly demanded, "What's going on, you guys?"
Jen said, "Nick saw a kitten out here. But it looks like it's gone now."
"A kitten?" Polly's green eyes started gleaming. She might be thirteen and always claiming how grownup she was, but the thought of a kitten turned her into a real kid again. Slamming the door behind her, she hurried to join them at the edge of the walk. "How big was it? What color was it? Where did you say you saw it?" Not waiting for any answers, she moved out onto the lawn. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty," she sang out in that high, nerve-slicing voice all females seemed to use instinctively when it came to calling cats.
She got halfway to the edge of the house when the kitten answered, "Rreow?"
"Come on, come on, kitty, kitty, kitty…"
Ivy rustled. They watched the leaves move, as the animal came around the corner of the house, headed straight for Polly.
"Kitty, kitty, kitty…"
The orange ball of fur popped out at Polly's feet and sat down, those pointy ears straight up. "Rreow?"
"Oh, you little sweetie. Oh, you darling thing…" Polly knelt and scooped the kitten into her arms. "Oh, just look at her." Polly rose to her feet and turned to face Nick and Jen. "Isn't she the most adorable little sweetheart of a cat?" The kitten, clearly no fool when it came to grabbing its chance, rubbed its pointy-eared head against Polly's stroking hand. Polly glanced up. Her eyes found Jen. "Mom. Look at her. She doesn't even have a collar. It's obvious she really needs a home." Polly cradled the kitten close, as if she'd just yanked it from the jaws of death.
Jen looked pained. "Polly…"
Polly started bargaining. "I'll take care of her. I promise. I'll do everything she needs. I'll be the one who feeds her. And the litter box—I can handle that, too. You won't have to do a thing, Mom, I swear you won't. I'll be responsible for everything…"
"Honey, she probably belongs to one of the neighbors."
"She doesn't. She's homeless. I know it. Her fur's all matted. Nobody loves her. The poor little thing."
Jen sighed. "Well, come on. It's cold out here. Let's go in the house to talk about this."
Polly nuzzled the kitten. "She'll have to come in, too. We can't just leave her out here, in the cold and the dark, for some big dog to eat."
Nick smiled to himself. Polly had once owned both a big gray cat and a little, yippy brown dog. Andy had got them for her, a few days after they moved into this house. But the cat had gone to that big scratching post in the sky a couple of years ago and the dog had died not long after. No doubt Jen had let herself imagine that Polly's pet-owning days were through.
No such luck. Polly was looking very noble. "Mom. You know I'm right. We cannot just leave a poor, defenseless animal out here in the cold."
Jen glanced at Nick, a what-can-I-do kind of look. Nick lifted an eyebrow at her. He understood her dilemma. He'd seen how Polly operated with Jen sometimes. The kid could be downright relentless. And Jen too often gave in to her. And then there was the damn kitten. Cute. Pitiful. Just the kind of thing Jen couldn't turn away, even if all of Polly's big promises to take care of the animal would be forgotten in a week.
"Mom…" Polly pleaded, using only the one word. "Mom…"
Jen sighed again. "Oh, all right. Bring the kitten with you."
Polly grinned hugely for once, showing the braces she usually tried to hide. And then she hurried to join them. Jen went through the front door first. Nick hung back to let Polly go through before him. That way he could close the door and it wouldn't get slammed.
Polly headed straight for the kitchen.
Jen stopped her. "Hold it. Where are you going?"
"The kitchen, where the light is nice and bright, so I can look her over and see if she's hurt or anything."
"On the floor," Jen said. "Not on my counters."
"Oh, all right. Can you get me a towel or something comfortable to put her on, at least."
The three of them ended up crouched on the kitchen floor around the kitten, which Polly put down carefully on the towel Jen brought her from one of the hall cabinets.
"She is pretty dirty," Jen said. The orange fur looked grimy in the bright light, and dark trails ran down from the big golden eyes.
"But she doesn't seem to have fleas." Polly pushed her fingers through the orange fur, pulling the hair aside enough to see the skin in spots.
Nick couldn't resist teasing a little, "You keep calling it a she? How do you know it's a she?"
Polly sent a really snooty look his way. And then she laid the kitten on its back and checked in the right spot. She looked up in triumph. "It's a female. So there."
"You're sure?"
"Nick. I am not an idiot. I know the difference between a male and a female."
Jen had to get into it then. "All right. Let me see." She bent down and had a look for herself. By then, the cat was getting pretty tired of being on its back. It started squirming. Jen said, "All right. Let her up."
Polly grinned, a smug, tight grin, with her lips together. It was an expression she put on pretty often, since she could do it without showing any metal. "See. I'm right." She lifted the kitten into her arms again and rubbed her cheek a
gainst the small, fuzzy head. "She's a girl. And I've checked her over good. She's not going to give us any diseases, I'm sure of it."
Jen made a low sound in her throat. "Polly, you are hardly a veterinarian."
"Then we'll take her to a veterinarian. And see what he says."
"No, what we will do is call a few of the neighbors and ask if they've lost a cat. In fact, you can do that. Right now. While Nick sets the table for dinner."
Polly made seven or eight phone calls. None of the neighbors she talked to knew anything about a lost cat.
"We'll keep asking around," Jenny said. She was definitely feeling trapped. She knew Polly would hit the roof if she suggested that they take the kitten to the animal shelter.
Polly kept up the pressure. "Okay, Mom. We'll keep asking around. But in the meantime, can we keep her? Please. She really needs us, Mom and—"
"Right now, dinner's ready."
"Dinner." Polly looked down at the cat, which she'd hardly let go of since it emerged from the ivy out in the front yard. "That's right. She's probably starving. We have to feed her something. You hold her while I get some milk and warm it up a little and then—"
"Polly. Put her in the bathroom. Make a nice little bed for her with that towel and—"
"But she's probably hungry. We can't just sit down and eat without feeding her something."
Jenny cast a glance at Nick, who had started all this. He was standing over by the table, behind the chair he always sat in now. He saw her look at him and swiftly cut his eyes away, toward the chicken casserole she'd just carried from the oven and set down on a trivet, ready to serve, between the wooden bowl of green salad and the basket of rolls. She felt fondness, and a little stab of irritating attraction—and impatience that he wasn't doing a darn thing to help her out here.
"Mom. She must be hungry," Polly insisted again.
"If she eats now, she'll just need to do her business. And we don't even have a litter box."
Polly's eyes widened. "That's right. We've got to get over to a pet shop right away. We've got to—"
"After dinner."
Polly blinked as she registered the implication in her mother's words. "We can go, then?"
"I suppose we'll have to."
"Good." Polly thought for a moment, then added, "Mom. I really think we ought to just go now."
"Put her in the bathroom, Polly. Make her as comfortable as you can. And then shut the door."
"But Mom…"
"Polly." Nick finally spoke up. "Come on. Let's eat. The quicker we eat, the quicker you'll get to that pet store."
Polly let out a frustrated moan. But she did give in at last—more or less. "She has to have water."
"Fine," Jenny conceded. "Make her comfortable on her towel and fill a cereal bowl with water, close the door so she can't get out—and wash your hands. Now."
The dinner was a rushed affair. Polly shoveled the food in, eager to get on to the next order of business: the trip to the pet store. Periodically, from the bathroom, the little kitten meowed, which only caused Polly to stuff the food in faster. She was up and eager to get going within six minutes of when she sat down.
"Hey." Nick batted her arm away when she tried to snatch his plate. "Back off. I'm not done."
"Nick. We have to get going. We have a lot to do, you know. We've got to get Daisy's things, get her all settled in and comfy and then you and I have to get to work."
He scoffed, "Daisy?"
"Yes." Polly sniffed. "I'm going to call her Daisy. I think it's a cute name and it fits her, she's so … sunny-looking."
"Scroungy-looking is what she is."
"She won't be, once I get her cleaned up. And now, eat that if you're going to. We have to leave." She glanced at Jenny. "Mom. I've been thinking."
Uh-oh, Jenny thought, but had the good sense not to say.
Polly continued, "We'd better take Daisy along with us. She'll be just terrified, all alone in a strange bathroom, starving, probably needing to use a litter box, crying out to no one, wondering what will happen to her."
Jenny spoke clearly and slowly. "I am not taking that kitten anywhere in my car tonight."
"We can take Nick's—"
"Stop. No. The kitten stays here."
"Oh, Mother." Polly looked thoroughly miffed. She stuck her nose in the air. "Then I'll just have to stay here, I guess. I simply refuse to leave her alone."
"Fine. Stay here. And don't give her any milk while I'm gone."
"But if she's hungry…"
"No milk. First of all, cow's milk is not really that good for a cat."
"But all cats drink—"
"Polly. Stop interrupting me."
Polly glared mutinously—but did keep her mouth shut.
Jenny explained, "Cow's milk isn't that good for cats. And I want her to have a litter box available before we feed her anything. Clear?"
"Sure, Mom. All right."
Nick stood then and picked up his plate. "I'll help Polly clear off the table, and then we can go."
At his offhanded words, a forbidden thrill shivered through Jenny. She pictured the two of them, walking the aisles of the pet store together. Choosing a cat litter, grabbing cans of cat food, picking out a cute little cat bed and a scratching post, while all the while her knees felt weak and her heart beat disconcertingly hard inside her chest.
"No, really, Nick. I can do it myself. It's not a problem at all."
He stopped halfway to the kitchen. "You sure?"
She nodded. "Make yourself useful. Get the dishes cleaned up."
Jenny went to a store called the Pet Emporium. It was as big as a supermarket and open until midnight. A brilliant idea came to her as she was standing at the cat food shelves, trying to choose from about fifty different brands.
This could be good, she thought. This could be … perfect.
As she loaded several cans and a small bag of dry kitten food into her cart, she was smiling to herself.
Yes, this situation with the kitten would work out fine, after all.
At home, Jenny parked in the garage and entered the house through the kitchen. Polly was waiting for her, still holding the kitten, which looked a bit cleaner than when Jenny had left. "I brushed her and washed the gunk out of her eyes," Polly announced. "Did you get the food? And the litter?"
Jenny set down the big bag she'd carried in from the garage with her. "I got everything she'll need. The rest is in the trunk."
"I'll get it," Nick volunteered. He went out and came back with everything else piled in his arms: litter and the cat box and the cute, soft cat bed.
Polly had put the kitten down on the kitchen floor, where it sat quite patiently, waiting, as Polly fumbled in a drawer, looking for the can opener so she could give her a meal.
Nick said, "Where do you want all this?"
And Jenny said, "Actually, while I was at the pet store, I had an idea."
Something in her voice must have alerted the two of them, because they both froze and turned to look at her wearing expressions of distrust.
"What?" said Polly.
"Idea?" asked Nick.
"Yes," Jenny told them cheerfully. "I think Nick is the one who should keep little Daisy."
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Polly had the can opener in her hand. She plunked it on the counter, hard. "What? Nick? Oh, Mother."
Nick chimed in. "Yeah, Jen. That's nuts. The last thing I need is a cat."
But Jenny had it all figured out. "Listen, you two. Think. Here you are, every night, discussing Wuthering Heights and How-I-Found-True-Love-And-Kept-It articles from Woman's Day. You're supposed to be working to get Nick in touch with the gentler, more sensitive side of himself."
Frowning, Polly bent down. She picked up Daisy, stood again and began rubbing the kitten under its fuzzy chin.
Jenny gestured at the kitten. "And here we have little Daisy, who shows up on our doorstep. Needing love. Needing someone to care for
her…"
Nick dropped all the cat paraphernalia on the section of counter at the pass-through to the family room. "Uh-uh. No way. I've got no room in my life for a damn cat. Tell your mother, Pol. Tell her there is no way I can—"
Polly gazed down at the kitten. "You know, maybe Mom's right."
Nick blinked. "Huh?"
Polly met Nick's eyes. She looked a little sad—but determined. "I said, maybe Mom's right."
Nick backed a step toward the door he'd just come through. "Hey. Wait. You never think your mother's right. And you want that cat. I can see it. You're crazy about that cat."
Polly nodded. "Maybe I am. But you need her more than I do."
"Need her? I don't need her. What the hell would I do with her?"
"Love her. Treat her gently. Show her how much you care."
Nick actually groaned. "Look. I'm not even home most of the time. She'd spend her whole damn life alone."
Polly tipped her head, considering that. Then she advised, "Well, if she ends up seeming too lonely, we can always go to the animal shelter and pick out a friend to keep her company while you're at work."
Nick scowled. "Great. Then I'll have two damn cats I don't need."
Shamelessly, Jenny threw in the argument she'd been saving. "Nick. I seem to recall you mentioning that Sasha loves cats."
"That's right." Polly's eyes lit up. "You said she's got a cat. A cat that she really loves."
"She loves it. Not me. I'm no cat-lover. If I had to get a pet, it would be a dog. A big, mean one with lots of sharp teeth."
Polly made a tongue-clucking sound. "Nick. You have to face this. You need Daisy. And Daisy needs you."
"Uh-uh. No way."
Jenny found that she rather enjoyed seeing Nick on the run. "Nick, remember your goal here. You keep saying you want to develop some common ground with Sasha. Learning to love and care for a cat would be a very effective way to do that."
He looked so pathetic as he cast desperately about for more excuses. "Well, I'm reading the books, aren't I? And studying all those magazine articles. And listening to that Enya woman wail on those CDs. Isn't it enough?"
Husband in Training Page 7
