Aunt Fran scooted from the room. She returned moments later with a roll of paper towels. The mess got cleaned up quickly, but Lara was in a mental tizzy.
A knock at the shelter door interrupted her thoughts. Kayla peeked her head in. “Hi,” she said shyly. “May I come in?”
Lara was relieved to see her. It gave her something else to focus on. “Of course. Come right in, Kayla. Would you like some lemonade?”
Kayla nodded and stepped inside, handing Lara a sheaf of papers. Introductions were made, both human and feline. Lara poured her a glass of lemonade and invited her to sit.
“I guess I better go,” Hesty said, “before something else spills on me.” He kissed Frankie’s furry head so sweetly that it made Lara’s throat tighten.
“Let me print another application for you,” Lara offered and left the room. She returned a few minutes later and gave the form to Hesty. He rolled it into a tube and rose from his chair.
“I’ll be back for you, Frankie. Ladies, I’ll have my granddaughter drop off the application later today.” Reluctantly he handed over the cat to Kayla, who immediately took him into her arms. Frankie’s gaze never left Hesty—he watched the man until he was out the door.
“He seems like a nice man,” Kayla said in her soft voice. “Frankie sure liked him.” The cat squirmed in her arms, and she set him gently on the floor.
“Yes, he did,” Aunt Fran said, sliding a glance over at Lara.
The remainder of the afternoon went by quickly. No other visitors arrived, which didn’t surprise Lara. The day had turned out to be perfect beach weather—which is probably where most people had spent the day.
Kayla worked neatly and efficiently, cleaning litter boxes and taking out the trash to the barrel behind the house. After that she spent time with the cats, getting to know each of their personalities.
“Should I come back tomorrow?” Kayla asked, pushing her glasses higher on her nose.
“Absolutely, if that works for you. I assume you read over the materials we gave you about the shelter?”
“I did. I think it’s unbelievable what you’re doing here.”
“Thanks. Since tomorrow is not an adoption day, we’ll work on some other projects. Catalina and her one remaining kitten have a vet appointment tomorrow. Do you think you can handle taking them? We have a large-sized carrier that will fit them both. I’ll help you get it in and out of the car.”
“I’d love to.” Kayla clasped her hands under her chin. “Thank you, both of you, for having me here. This is going to be a wonderful summer—and such good experience for me.”
Kayla left a little after four. Aunt Fran pounced on Lara.
“What in heaven’s name was going on with you when Hesty was here, Lara?” she said, an edge to her voice. “You acted as if you didn’t like the poor man.”
With no way to explain about Blue, Lara hedged. “I-I can’t put my finger on it, Aunt Fran. I was just getting a weird feeling about him.” She held up a hand before her aunt could interject. “I know, Frankie obviously swooned over the man. The two looked like a match made in heaven.”
“I called Jerry while you were working with Kayla. He’s known Mr. Heston—Hesty—forever. He might not be the most polished of individuals, but he and his wife have always had cats. They gave every one of them a loving home.”
“Okay, I concede,” Lara said. She threw up her arms. “We’ll review his application, if he ever delivers it, and check out his references. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Agreed,” her aunt said, but she still looked a bit miffed.
Lara went over and kissed Aunt Fran’s cheek. In an attempt to lighten the tension, she said, “Don’t mind me. You should know by now I have paranoid tendencies.”
Her aunt laughed. “I won’t argue with that. But so long as it’s for the good of the cats, I suppose I can overlook it.”
The porch table now wiped down and the floor washed, Lara prepared an early supper for the two of them. She grilled two marinated chicken breasts while Aunt Fran whipped up a salad of romaine lettuce and fresh, local tomatoes. For dessert, they splurged on strawberry shortcake with strawberries from Daisy Bowker’s garden.
After the dishes were done, they watched the news for a while. Reports of Donald Waitt’s murder monopolized almost every major network. As if his death wasn’t bad enough, veiled references to a prior relationship with Deanna Daltry gave the story a tawdry angle.
“I can’t watch anymore,” Aunt Fran eventually said.
“I’m with you,” Lara said. “I’m going to work in the small parlor for a while. Catch up on some correspondence. Maybe do a little painting.”
And try to figure out why Blue was so dead set against Hesty.
* * * *
Lara sat at the card table in the small parlor and pulled up Google on her tablet. The room, which had been her favorite when she was a child, served as both her office and art studio.
She started by searching Curtis Heston—a name, she was surprised to see, that popped up with some frequency. In his heyday, he’d been a captain on the Whisker Jog Fire Department. Given the town’s size, it had been only a part-time job. He’d also worked as a home inspector until he retired several years earlier. Exactly as he’d told them.
A slew of commendations appeared online, including one from a grateful owner whose puppy Hesty had rescued from a drain pipe back in the late 1990s.
Lara sighed. If his application looked good and his references checked out, he’d be eligible to adopt Frankie. Maybe she could stall him while she tried to figure out Blue’s objection to the man.
Or maybe she was crazy, seeing a cat no one else could see. Maybe she was the problem and not Hesty.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she Googled Donald Waitt. Aside from the news blasts about the murder, there was little to learn about the man. He’d been married with two grown kids. If he had any social media accounts, Lara didn’t trip over them.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have secrets.
Why had he been so anxious to talk to Deanna at the tea party on Sunday? Lara suspected Deanna knew more than she was saying. She also sensed that the actress had returned to her hometown to find peace and solitude. Scratch that, she thought. Deanna’s privacy—to the extent she’d had any—had already been shattered.
Anxious about the kittens, Lara snatched up her cell. She sent off a quick text to Deanna.
Are N and D enjoying their new space?
She wanted it to sound casual, not as worried as she felt. Almost immediately, a return text came through.
Kittens loving it here. Haven’t eaten much yet, but curled up together in cat bed. Love these darlings! We’re lying low. Media crawling everywhere!
Hmm. Haven’t eaten much yet? Lara didn’t like the sound of that. And who did she mean by “we”? She’d forgotten to ask Deanna if Nancy Sherman lived at the mansion.
As for the media and the looky-loos who’d camped out in front of Deanna’s, Lara knew they weren’t going away any time soon. Deanna would have to endure it for as long as it lasted. Lara felt bad for the woman, but it was, unfortunately, the price of fame.
Aunt Fran knocked lightly at the door and popped into the room. She handed a folder to Lara. “Hesty’s granddaughter just dropped this off.” She winked at her niece. “Oh, and I meant to give you this earlier,” she said and gave her a sheet of pink paper. “I picked it up today at the library. There’s a community book-slash-yard sale in their parking lot on Saturday.