Lara sighed. It was true. The famous actress, best known recently for her starring role in the Broadway hit Take Me, I’m His, had often been dubbed Hollywood’s “late date.” Never married, she was known for her string of leading-man lovers, as well as for her generous good works.
She glanced around the back porch. The official meet-and-greet room for the shelter, it boasted a sturdy square table over which a cat-themed runner had been draped. The ceiling border depicted whimsical cats—hand-painted by Lara—frolicking over a background of cerulean blue. A pine corkboard hung on one wall. Photos of cats that had been successfully adopted covered the board. Lara was pleased that four kittens and two adult cats had found good homes since the shelter opened in January.
A furry body leaped soundlessly onto one of the four padded chairs. The Ragdoll cat, blue eyes sparkling, gave Lara a curious look.
Lara grinned at Blue, the cat that had the knack of popping in and out of the scenery like a puff of smoke.
“You’re always smiling at that chair,” Aunt Fran said. “It must remind you of something.”
If you only knew, Lara thought.
“It reminds me that I’d better get hustling and clean up. When our illustrious guest arrives, I don’t want to look like something a squirrel dug out of a hole in the ground.”
* * * *
It was the stroke of four thirty-five when Deanna Daltry arrived. The actress had driven herself to the shelter, her vintage cream-colored Mercedes spotless and gleaming under a mid-July sun.
Slender and silver-haired, Deanna wore her hair in a short, casual style combed away from her face. Clad in faded denim capris and a white halter top, she held out one hand.
“Forgive my bare face,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I find that the less makeup I wear, the less recognizable I am.”
“Ms. Daltry,” Lara said, trying valiantly not to gush. “I would know you anywhere. And you look beautiful, with or without makeup.” She took the woman’s outstretched hand, holding it a second or two longer than she should have.
Deanna’s gray eyes made a sweep of the room. “Is this room the shelter?” she asked Lara. “I’m loving the feline décor.”
“The shelter is actually our home,” Lara explained. “Three of the adult cats live here permanently. On adoption days, we outfit them with blue collars to indicate that they’re in-house cats. This room”—she waved a hand at the table—“is where we introduce ourselves, tell you about our shelter, and enjoy tea and snacks with those who wish to partake. Is iced tea all right? With the heat, we figured…”
The actress grinned and winked at Lara. “‘Those who wish to partake.’ You’re a dear young woman, do you know that? And yes, iced tea sounds like just the ticket on this sultry day.”
Inwardly, Lara slapped herself. Why did she have to sound so goofy in front of this legend? Why couldn’t she just be herself?
“Anyway,” Lara went on, “my aunt, Fran Clarkson, will be here any second. She’s—”
“I’m here,” Aunt Fran’s voice trilled from the doorway. Lara couldn’t hide her smile. Her aunt’s tone never warbled that way. Was she feeling a bit starstruck herself?
Aunt Fran set a pitcher of iced tea on the table, along with a small plate of cat-shaped cookies. “Ms. Daltry,” she said, offering her hand to the actress, “I’m Fran, and we’re honored that you’ve chosen our shelter. Please have a seat.”
The table had already been set with tall glasses, dishes, and spoons. Lara poured each of them a glass of iced tea. “I hope you like cookies,” she said. “Daisy Bowker at the local coffee shop made them especially for you. They’re flavored with lavender.”
Deanna’s smile widened. “To match the iconic gown I wore in Forever and a Century? How sweet of her.”
“That’s amazing, Ms. Daltry,” Lara said. “How did you know that?”
“First, I insist that you both call me Deanna.” The actress flashed a brilliant smile, but Lara spied a touch of sadness in her expressive eyes. Ignoring Lara’s question, she looked around. “Aside from these delightful cookies, I haven’t seen any cats yet.”
Lara laughed. “We close the door to the large parlor on adoption days, until we’re ready to let visitors in.” She pushed her chair back and left the room to open the door. Munster, an orange-striped darling, moved past her like a rocket. He knew that on days when that door closed and then opened again, he was about to meet new people.
Lara followed the cat to the back porch, where he promptly jumped onto their visitor’s lap.
“Oh, what a darling you are,” Deanna cooed, stroking his head. “But you’re wearing a blue collar, so I can’t adopt you, can I?” She pushed her chilled glass toward the center of the table.
“He’s our official greeter,” Aunt Fran said, then smiled at the slender gray cat eyeing them from the doorway. “But Bootsie here is ready for a nice quiet home, aren’t you sweetie?”
Bootsie dipped her head forward and moved cautiously into the room. Aunt Fran called to her, but Bootsie made a circuitous route and wound herself around Deanna’s ankle.
Deanna clucked over the cat, reaching down to run a hand along her soft body. “She’s a doll, for sure,” the actress said and then sighed. “I know I sound selfish saying this, but…well, I was actually hoping to adopt a pair of kittens.” She held up a slender hand. “And I already know what you’re thinking, that everyone prefers kittens over adult cats because they’re so cute and frisky. But for me, coming back here represents a new beginning, and—” She paused and gazed up at the ceiling, the fingers of one hand lightly touching her throat.
Aunt Fran spoke first. “Ms.—I mean, Deanna, you don’t need to explain. Your feelings are fully understandable. And, as it turns out, your timing is excellent.”
“Three weeks ago,” Lara said, “someone left a cardboard cage on our front porch. No note, no explanation—just a shy mama kitty and three very hungry kittens inside.”
“The kittens are about fourteen weeks old,” Aunt Fran explained, “so they’re definitely ready for adoption. We’ve already approved an application from a woman who wants to adopt the mom and one of the kittens. As soon as the woman’s recovered sufficiently from her hip surgery, she and her daughter are going to pick them up.”
Deanna’s gray eyes beamed. “So, the other two are still available?”
“They are,” Aunt Fran confirmed. “They’ve both had their vaccinations, but they’re due for a second round in a few weeks. We’ll give you a referral to our preferred vet, who will also do the neutering and spaying when each one is ready.”
Lara couldn’t suppress a smile. “They’re predominantly white, but the male has two black stripes above one paw that make him look like he’s wearing an armband, and the female has a brown, diamond-shaped mark next to her right eye. We’ve been calling them Noodle and Doodle, but of course you can name them anything you’d like.”
Deanna clasped her hands together. “Oh, I can’t wait to see them.”
Lara rose from her padded seat just as the elusive Ragdoll, Blue, slipped onto the vacant one. Blue set her chin on the table and gave a slow blink, her gaze coming to rest on Deanna. From the cat’s expression, Lara saw that she approved of the woman.
“I’ll get them for you,” Lara said. “Last I saw, they were napping on the cat tree in the large parlor.”
She scooted out of the room, returning a minute later clutching the kittens to her chest. Lara handed the male kitten to Deanna. Munster sniffed the kitten’s tail but didn’t vacate his comfy lap space.
“Oh,