“No, I’m just a friend of Cara’s.” Okay, Garrison knew that was a stretch. “A relatively new acquaintance actually.”
“I’m David Landers.” He smiled as he extended his hand.
“I’m Garrison Brown. I live a few blocks from here.”
“Nice to meet you, neighbor.” David appeared to be about the same age as Garrison, but unlike Garrison, this guy oozed confidence.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Garrison held out the plant. “And thanks for taking—”
“Why don’t you come on in?” David opened the door wider.
“Okay.” Garrison was pleasantly surprised at this unexpected hospitality. “I didn’t realize poinsettias were so fragile when I bought this.”
“No problem.” David closed the door and pointed to a glass-topped table in the foyer. “Just set it there for now. I’ll get it to Cara as soon as she gets home. Probably around five.” He grinned. “I like having an excuse to run over and see her whenever I can. When she first moved in, she used to come over here a lot to borrow stuff. It’s her first time living in a real house and she’d need a potato peeler or some basil or whatever. I didn’t mind a bit. After she got settled, I missed her visits so I started making up reasons to pop in on her.” He chuckled. “But we’re beyond that now.”
“Right . . .” For some reason Garrison felt uncomfortable hearing this.
“How do you know Cara?” David gave him an overly curious look.
Garrison gauged his answer. “We met on the street just last week. And then my neighbor took me over to Cara’s for Thanksgiving—a get-together for the single folks in the neighborhood.” He studied David closely, trying to calculate his age. Somewhere between thirty-five and forty, he would estimate. “I don’t believe you were there.” He glanced around the homey-looking room. “But maybe you’re not single.”
“I’m divorced. Three years last summer. And I would’ve gone to Cara’s little shindig, but I had a previous commitment with my family in Spokane. My parents wanted to see Jackson.”
“Jackson?”
“That’s my son. I have full custody of the kid. Jackson just turned eight.” He called over his shoulder. “Hey, Jackson? You still in the kitchen? Come on out here.”
A young boy came shyly around a corner, peering into the living room.
“Say hello to Mr. Brown.” David looked uncertainly at Garrison. “It was Brown, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Garrison smiled at the boy. “Hello, Jackson.”
“He-hello,” the boy said with uncertainty.
“Mr. Brown brought a plant over for Miss Wilson,” David told his son.
Jackson just nodded as he moved toward the staircase, nervously grasping the banister with one hand. “I—uh—I’m going—to my room.”
“Okay,” David said easily.
“Nice to meet you, Jackson,” Garrison called out as the boy scurried up the stairs.
David frowned. “I like to give him every opportunity I can to interact.”
“Sure.” Garrison pretended to understand, although he wasn’t completely sure what David meant.
“Because, as you can probably see, Jackson has difficulty conversing,” David continued quietly. “They say he’s got a social anxiety disorder. But things got worse when kids at school started teasing him. So I took him out. I don’t mind homeschooling so much since I work from home anyway. And Jackson is really bright. But I do worry about his social interaction. I wish he had someone his own age to talk with.”
Garrison nodded, realizing that he could probably relate more to David’s insecure son than to the self-assured dad. “Yeah, that would probably be good for him.”
“I’m thinking about getting him a dog for Christmas. Although I need to make sure our budget can handle it. It hasn’t been exactly easy getting my home business up and running. And I know dogs can be expensive. But it might be worth it . . . for Jackson’s sake. Not that a dog can carry on a conversation exactly.” David pulled back a corner of the brown paper hood to peek in on the poinsettia. “Pretty.”
“How about a cat?” Garrison said suddenly.
“Huh?” David’s brow creased as he pushed the paper closed again. “A cat?”
Garrison quickly explained about Gram and her cats and the need to re-home them. “I still have this Seal Point Siamese. About eight years old. Nice and big. And she talks all the time.”
“She talks?” David looked skeptical.
“I know it sounds crazy, but this cat talks. In cat language, of course, but she’s really chatty. I have a feeling she carried on lengthy conversations with my grandmother.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I’m not great at conversing with cats. I’m sure poor Muzzy is completely fed up with me.”
“A Seal Point Siamese? I’ve seen pictures of those. Nice-looking cats.”
“Muzzy is really pretty. Nice, sleek dark coat. Big blue eyes. And like I said, she loves to talk.”
“Eight years? Is that very old? I mean, for a cat?”
“My grandmother had a cat named Genevieve that lived to be twenty-three.”
“No kidding.” David shook his head. “And Jackson is eight years old—just like Muzzy.”
“No worries that she’ll have kittens,” Garrison assured him. “And she’s in good health. I have the vet records.”
David narrowed his eyes as if really considering this. “You really think this cat could encourage Jackson to talk more?”
“I’m almost certain of it. The cat really wants to engage with someone. She’s a real chatterbox.” He didn’t add that she could drive a quiet person crazy. Let them discover this. Besides, it was clear that David liked to chat.
“And a cat wouldn’t pass judgment on Jackson.”
“Not at all. And she’d be a good companion for him too.”
“I like this idea.” David nodded. “I like it a lot.”
Garrison told David a bit about his grandmother’s will. “I know it sounds a little eccentric, but Gram’s cats were her family. She had to make sure they got good homes.”
“I don’t blame her a bit.” David invited Garrison to remove his coat and sit down to go over the details of Gram’s slightly eccentric requirements.
It didn’t take long for Garrison to realize that this would be a great home for Muzzy. “And I know my grandmother would be pleased to think that Muzzy could be an encouragement to your boy.”
“I want to do this,” David declared. “It makes perfect sense. Jackson isn’t getting a dog for Christmas. He’s getting a cat.”
“Great.” Garrison frowned. “But I hope you don’t want to wait until Christmas.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m trying to get things tied up before that. I actually hoped to get the cats placed this week. And then I have to head back to Seattle for a job. I’d been looking for months and finally got an offer. Can’t afford to let it go.”
“Sure.” David nodded. “I can understand that. And, come to think of it, I’ve heard that you should never give pets right at Christmas. Too much going on. They can get stressed out . . . or sick.”
“So would you be interested in getting Muzzy sooner then?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I could bring her by anytime you want,” Garrison offered. “Well, unless you’d like to meet her first. Or maybe you want to talk to Jackson—”
“No, I think I’d rather surprise him.”
“I can show you a picture.” Garrison pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got photos of all the cats on here.”
David peered over Garrison’s shoulder as he flicked through the photos. “There’s Muzzy.” Garrison held up the phone.
“She is a pretty cat.” David smiled with satisfaction. “And you mentioned the two-week policy . . . Can I assume it works both ways?”
“Both ways?”
“If Muzzy doesn’t fit in here. If she and Jackson don’t hit it off—I can send her back?”
Garrison considered this. �
��Sure, of course. I know that my grandmother would not want Muzzy placed in a home that didn’t work for everyone.”
David stuck out his hand. “Then it’s a deal.”
“Deal.” Garrison grinned.
“When can we have her?”
“If you like I can bring her over tonight.”
“That’d be great.”
Garrison felt like letting out a victory yell as he hurried out to his car. Finding a home for Muzzy—a cat whose constant “talking” was driving him up the walls—was fantastic. And if she could help Jackson with his social anxiety—well, it was a real win-win situation. At home, he felt slightly guilty as he gathered up a generous supply of cat things for Muzzy. It wasn’t that he disliked the loud Siamese so much. In fact, she’d actually grown on him the last few days. But at the same time, he knew she needed a good home. Just the right kind of home. And he felt fairly certain he had found it.
Using a special gluten-free kitty treat to entice Muzzy into a cat carrier, he assured her that she was going to a happy home with a young man who would adore her. With her safely away from the other cats, he took a moment to give the others their dinner. Then he packed a box with everything a new cat owner could possibly want, including a nearly full bag of her special cat food, and loaded it into the back of the Pontiac. With the cat carrier safely buckled into the seat next to him, he drove over to David’s. Was it really possible he was down to just two cats? Not to mention they were two of the most congenial cats. Finding them homes should be a piece of cake.
Feeling hopeful and optimistic, Garrison toted the cat carrier up to the front door of the Landerses’ house. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a car pulling into Cara’s driveway. Glancing over, he watched as the sky-blue Volkswagen Bug parked. While knocking on the door, he watched Cara climb out of her car and look curiously in his direction. Smiling, he waved, then knocked on the door again. It opened a moment later.
“Is this her? Is this Muzzy?” David asked expectantly.
“Is that the cat?” Jackson asked from behind his dad.
“This is Muzzy,” Garrison proclaimed.
“Here’s your early Christmas present, Jackson.” David took the carrier from Garrison and held it out in front of his son. “Your very own cat. Meet Muzzy.”
“I’m going back to the car for some things,” Garrison called out to them. As he turned away he could hear the happiness in Jackson’s voice. The boy was clearly thrilled to be getting a cat. It was like Christmas had come early.
“What’s going on over there?” Cara asked with a curious expression.
Garrison quickly explained about finding a home for a cat.
Her brows arched. “Really? Which cat?”
“Muzzy,” he said as he reached in for the box of cat supplies. “The Siamese.”
Cara smiled stiffly. “Well, that’s very nice.” She took a shopping bag out of her car. “Nice to see you, Garrison.” Then she turned and hurried up to her house. Friendly . . . but cool.
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 hello 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 relationship 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 gratitude.”
“Gratitude 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 asset 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-fashioned, 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 embarrassingly limited.
The Christmas Cat Page 7
