And The Cat Came Back

By Christiane France

Seth Lawley is ready to settle down if the right man comes along, but he’s cautious. He believes he who hesitates saves himself a whole lot of heartbreak. Grant Kenyon, on the other hand, is ready to take a chance. He figures anyone who hesitates when it comes to grabbing what he wants from life risks losing out.

            Foofuss, Grant’s bossy, matchmaking Persian cat, has decided his master needs company and Seth is IT…that’s if he can figure out the perfect plan to bring the two of them together.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christiane France
• Release date: Apr 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533777935

Book preview

For My Boys

And The Cat Came Back

I parked my truck in front of the ancient six-bedroom fixer-upper my partner and I had just bought and wished the poor thing could tell me what had brought it to this sorry state.

Years ago—I was maybe around ten or a little older—my dad first showed me the old sea captains’ homes on Beach Boulevard. They’d whispered to me of romance and adventure, and I spent every spare minute imagining the lives of the seafaring men who’d built their homes around Lake Ontario. I spun magical tales for myself of their adventures in foreign ports, along with the hazards they’d endured navigating the Great Lakes in a winter storm.

From the moment I first saw them, I’d harbored a secret wish to have one of those houses for myself. I’d even gone so far as to take a glass jar, label it The House, and put in a percentage of my pocket money each week. And I dreamed about my house as only a young boy could.

I’d eventually spent the money on something else, but now, through pure chance, I finally owned one of the old captain’s houses, or rather fifty percent of one. My ownership was temporary for a whole bunch of reasons, all of them practical, but that wouldn’t stop me enjoying it temporarily. I could spend time inside, wandering from room to room, while I listened to it breathe. And if I was really lucky, the walls would share their secrets with me from long, long ago. I might even see—

I administered a mental smack upside the head; told myself to get real and put my dreams on hold.

The siding was in urgent need of repainting as were the doors and the window frames, and the garden surrounding the house was a total mess. There was a ton of stuff needed doing. But that was what I enjoyed most about being a renovator—taking a battered old beauty like this and restoring it to its former glory.

I hummed a couple of bars of The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald as I checked the front steps and surrounding area, looking for the cat I’d observed sitting there yesterday. It had given the impression it belonged here, and I figured it probably did. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had left a pet behind to fend for itself.

Maybe the neighbors were feeding it; maybe not. Just in case, I’d stopped at the store for a few emergency supplies. I got out of the truck. I still couldn’t see the cat, but I collected the bag of kibble from the back, along with a couple of small plastic dishes I’d brought from home, and headed for the house.

Here kitty, kitty. I’ve brought you some breakfast, I called, then I waited.

Almost immediately, there was a flash of white and black. The cat dashed out of the shrubbery and bounded up the steps ahead of me, its bushy black tail waving like a flag.

I unlocked the door and it hurried inside, heading straight for the kitchen. I followed along behind.

I’d barely had time to fill one of the dishes with water and put it on the floor when I heard a vehicle door slam outside, followed by footsteps coming down the hallway.

What in heck are you up to, Seth? Ben Ryling, my best friend since kindergarten and now my business partner, inquired as he came into the kitchen and took a look at what I was doing.

I gave a quick sigh of exasperation to cover my feelings of guilt, then bent down and poured a large scoop of the kibble into the other plastic dish and set it before my new friend. So what if I like animals and they like me. It’s not a crime. Feeding the cat. What does it look like? When I came by yesterday, I saw him outside, sitting on the step. He looked hungry.

Hungry, my ass. Ben gave a long-suffering sigh. Looks to me like you’re creating another problem. The house has been standing empty for more than a year, so there’s bound to be a ton of bats, rats, mice, squirrels, and who knows what else we’ll need to get rid of. Now here you are encouraging another freeloader.

The cat was tucking into the kibble like it was his first meal in a week. Look at him. Poor thing is hungry.

Oh, please. Ben rolled his eyes. Any fool can see that cat needs food like it needs another head. It must weigh at least fifteen pounds.

I think most of it’s fur. I checked the cat’s body. His bones didn’t stand out like he was in imminent danger of starvation, but he was far from fat. I’d say he’s fine right now, but if he’s living rough with winter coming on, he’ll need the extra weight. I figure either he’s lost or he’s been abandoned. Ever since I saw the puss sitting on the steps, I’d had nasty pictures running through my head of pets who’d been left behind when the owner moved on, or tossed out of cars because they were too much trouble and too expensive to take care of. If I feed him, maybe he’ll show his gratitude by dealing with the rodent population for us.

Ben gave me one of his you-have-gotta-be-kidding looks. In your dreams, buddy. That guy’s a hustler, not a hunter. If he met up with a mouse, I just betcha he’d yell for help.

You think? I ran a hand down the long, silky white fur on the cat’s back. He—I assumed it was a he—was gorgeous. Mostly all white with a band of black partway around his middle, a black tail, black head and a triangle of white on his face starting above his eyes that gave him the rakish look of a bandido.

I don’t think, I know. Ben laughed and bent down beside me. Take a good look at him. That’s not your everyday house cat. I’d say he’s got a pedigree long as your arm, and fancy pets like that cost a bomb. He’s well groomed, confident as hell, and spoiled rotten, too, I guarantee. If he were a stray, his coat would be a mess, all straggly, dirty and full of mats. He gave the cat a pat on the head and straightened up.

Sorry, Seth. That guy’s not some poor homeless little street cat, trying to survive in a cruel, cold world. He’s a clever opportunist who knew a soft touch the moment he met up with you.

That true, kid? I inquired.

The cat lifted its head to stare at me with soulful, golden eyes. Then he turned and shot Ben a look that clearly told him to butt out and mind his business before returning to the bowl of kibble.

Ben smiled his acknowledgment of the message. Told ya. But he’s a cutie, I’ll give him that.

If the cat wasn’t a stray—and I had a feeling Ben was right—what was the owner thinking to allow a beautiful animal like this to wander around by himself? He could be injured, stolen, or even lost. I’d considered getting pet for a while now, and if the owner couldn’t be bothered to take proper care of him... I gave him a pat on the head and pushed myself upright. Think I should put up a few notices and see if anyone comes to claim him?

You have got to be joking. Ben