A noise from the large parlor drew Munster’s attention. He leaped off Deanna’s lap and went off to investigate. Lara set the female kitten in Deanna’s lap.
Deanna bit down gently on her lower lip, then curled her free hand around the female kitten. Her voice grew soft. “I wasn’t sure about coming back to Whisker Jog,” she murmured, a pained look dimming her eyes. “But you’ve both made me feel so very welcome. I’m glad I’m here, and I’m grateful to both of you for giving me a private appointment. I know you’re not normally open on Thursdays.” She laughed. “Application process? Good! Bring it on. I assure you that once you check me out, you won’t have any reservations about letting me adopt.”
“Excellent,” Aunt Fran said.
The kittens had gotten antsy, so Deanna set them down. Their mom appeared suddenly and sat watching them from the doorway. Her other kitten hovered behind her.
“Here’s mama now,” Aunt Fran said. “We’ve been calling her Catalina and her other kitten Bitsy, but her new owners will probably change that.”
All white with one black ear and one black forepaw, Catalina looked up at Deanna. Her tail curled around her feet as she assessed the newcomer.
“So that’s the mama kitty,” Deanna said with a smile. “What beautiful markings.”
Bitsy, slightly smaller than her sibs, padded over to Deanna and sniffed at the toes of her purple sneakers.
“I think she’s checking me out.” Deanna winked at Lara.
Catalina was clearly comfortable around the actress. Deanna reached down and stroked her head, eliciting a soft purr from the cat. The kittens immediately went over to their mom. Introductions over, Catalina turned and strolled from the room, Bitsy, Noodle, and Doodle following in her wake.
After that, Deanna seemed to relax. She began regaling Lara and Aunt Fran with tales from her early days in Hollywood.
“Do you ever get tired of people intruding on your privacy?” Lara asked. “I’ll bet people are always trying to take selfies with you.”
The warmth in Deanna’s expression cooled, and her eyes narrowed. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, as they say, Lara. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve wanted to hide, to disappear. How often I’ve wanted to seek out a place where no one can bother me or hurt me.” Her thin nostrils flared slightly.
“I’m sorry,” Lara said. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to pry.”
The actress’ smile instantly returned, as if prompted by a cue card. “Don’t be silly. It was a fair question.” She swallowed the last of her iced tea, then pulled her cell phone out from the tiny purse she’d brought with her. “By the way, you’re both coming to the reception on Sunday, right?”
“Reception?” Lara asked.
Aunt Fran piped in. “I saw something in the paper about it. The Whisker Jog Ladies’ Association is holding a welcome tea and reception for Deanna this Sunday afternoon at the historical society. I’m not a member, so no, we’ve not been invited.”
“Bummer,” Lara said.
Deanna waved a hand. “Never mind that. You are invited, because I’m inviting you. I’ll speak to Evelyn Conley, the coordinator. Besides, I fully intend to support your shelter, and I want to make that known to everyone attending this little shindig.”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you,” Aunt Fran said.
Lara’s mind instantly flitted to her wardrobe. As a watercolor artist, she spent most of her days working in paint-splattered T-shirts and denim. She had no idea what to wear to an event like the one to which Deanna had invited them.
But that got her thinking. Gideon, the local attorney she’d been seeing for a few months, had asked her to dinner the following Saturday at a new restaurant just outside the town limits. She’d planned to splurge on something summery to wear, but hadn’t had a chance to shop. Maybe she could find something that would fit the bill for both events.
“Yes, thank you, Deanna,” Lara said. “I’d love to attend.”
“Fine. I’ll see that invitations are hand-delivered to you by tomorrow. As for that application, is it something you can send to my private email address?”
“It sure is,” Lara said. “If you give us your email address I’ll get it right off to you.”
Deanna’s smile was genuine. “I’m so pleased that I came here today. You’ve both been gracious and lovely. And I promise, those kittens will have a wonderful home.”
Chapter 2
The door to the white clapboard building that housed the Whisker Jog Historical Society had been propped open with a large brick. Painted barn red, the door boasted a patriotic folk art flag hanging directly below its brass knocker.
Voices drifted from inside the building. Aunt Fran went in first, Lara trailing behind her.
Lara felt good today, pleased that she’d found a flowery yellow sundress and matching espadrilles at a price she could almost afford. The dress flared at the bottom, and was adorned with two deep but discreet pockets. She’d splurged and bought the ensemble, dressing it up with the chunky gold necklace her aunt had bought at a yard sale a few months earlier. She’d tucked her cell in one of the pockets—just in case she wanted to snap a few celebrity pics.
“I’ve never been in here,” Lara said, gazing around the large entrance that had once served as a meeting room for the townspeople. In one corner, a portable air conditioner struggled to pump out enough chilled air to cool the surrounding area.
“The reception must be in the main room,” Aunt Fran said. “Since we’re early, why don’t you browse here for a bit. Some of the town’s artifacts are quite interesting. I’ll head to the back to see if anyone needs help setting things up.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll do that.”
Lara was glad to see that her aunt was walking far better than she had been before her knee-replacement surgery. And while Aunt Fran no longer used her cane, Lara knew that her right knee still troubled her. Lara looked forward to the day when both her aunt’s knees were back to normal and pain-free.
She wandered over to a large glass case that sat in the center of the room. Beneath the glass was a yellowed map of Whisker Jog, its edges brown and wrinkled. Lara peered at the handwritten paper tacked above the map. It explained how the town got its name.
Originally called Elbern’s Location, the town’s boundaries had once formed a precise rectangle. Then a local farmer had claimed that a narrow slice of land at the southwest corner was actually part of his cow pasture in the adjacent county. Founder Josiah Elbern, the land surveyor who’d painstakingly laid out the boundaries, railed at the farmer, calling him a scoundrel and a heathen. But the farmer persisted, so Elbern brought the matter before a magistrate. To his dismay, the farmer had his ducks—or rather his deeds—in a row, and proved title to the sliver. The boundary line was changed, spoiling the perfectly rectangular town. Livid over the decision, Elbern changed the town’s name to Whisker Jog, deeming the jog in the new boundary line a debauchery created by a sliver of land the “breadth of a cat’s whisker.”
Lara grinned at the story. How had she never known that?
“Lara?”
The familiar voice came from behind her. She turned to see Chris Newman, a local accountant who’d recently taken over as editor of the town’s weekly paper, the Whisker Gazette.
“Hey, Chris, how’s it going?”
Wearing