Part 4
“I told Marian she could have Pip.”
Lena closed the foster notebook.
“Did she submit an application?”
“Not yet. She said she would.”
“Does Sophie’s mother know?”
“Yes. They agreed to one cat.”
“And we may recommend that Pip and June stay together.”
“May recommend. You haven’t decided.”
“That isn’t your decision either.”
Nora crossed her arms. “Marian’s family has owned cats for years.”
“Then she may be an excellent applicant. But she still has to apply, and Riverbend still has to approve the placement.”
“I know her.”
“You know part of her life.”
“The part that has shown up here reliably for fifteen years.”
Lena rubbed one hand across her forehead. “You signed the agreement, Nora.”
“I haven’t handed Pip over.”
“You reserved her before the placement team finished evaluating the litter.”
Nora looked toward the calendar. “I wanted to know where she was going.”
“I know.”
The absence of an accusation made Nora angrier than one would have.
“So you’re reporting me?”
“I’m telling Marcy what happened. Riverbend is responsible for these kittens.”
“And what happens to me?”
“That depends on whether this was a mistake or whether you still think the agreement applies only when you like the outcome.”
From the guest room came a crash, followed by the rapid drum of kitten feet.
Lena picked up her bag. “Marcy will call you.”
After she left, Nora found the water dish overturned and Milo sitting in the empty bowl. Pip and June were asleep together beneath the chair, Pip’s chin resting across her sister’s back.
Clover watched from the windowsill.
Nora spent the rest of the day angry. She was angry while shortening a lace sleeve, angry while replacing a zipper and still angry when Marian called to ask whether the adoption date had been confirmed.
“There’s a problem,” Nora said.
“Is Pip ill?”
“No. I promised her before the rescue finished reviewing the litter.”
“I said I would complete the application.”
“I know. But they may require Pip and June to be adopted together.”
Marian went quiet.
“My daughter agreed to one cat,” she said. “Two would be too much.”
“They may approve you for another kitten.”
“Sophie asked about Pip.”
“And I should not have told you she was yours.”
“That is rather different from what you said in your workroom.”
Nora looked at the pageant dress hanging beside her pressing table. Three more dresses from Marian’s family were scheduled for the following month.
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
Another silence followed.
“I’ll have someone collect the pageant dress tomorrow,” Marian said. “Unfinished. I would rather take the rest of the work elsewhere.”
Nora closed her eyes. Marian was not wrong about the broken promise, even if the promise should never have been made.
“I understand.”
The line went dead.
Losing Marian’s work did not ruin Nora. It did, however, leave a painful empty column in the appointment book and a deposit she would have to return. The cost was real enough to keep the decision from feeling noble.
She called Riverbend next.
Marcy, the foster coordinator, listened without interrupting.
“I made a private commitment before the applications were reviewed,” Nora said. “I’ve withdrawn it. Pip and June should remain listed together if that is what the placement team recommends.”
“They do appear closely bonded,” Marcy said. “We have a couple interested in both.”
Nora pressed her palm against the kitchen counter.
“All right.”
“Lena said you were attentive with the medical care.”
Nora did not know whether the comment was meant as comfort.
“She was also right about the agreement.”
“Yes,” Marcy said. “She was.”
That evening Nora emailed Lena a three-line message.
I canceled the promise. Marian took her work elsewhere. Pip and June are listed together again.
I’m sorry I made you responsible for stopping me.
Lena did not respond that night.
For the next four days, Nora managed alone. Riverbend remained involved, but another volunteer delivered supplies. Nora completed the weight records, washed bedding, cleaned litter from corners she had not known existed and worked after midnight to finish her remaining alterations.
The kittens grew faster than seemed reasonable. Their bodies lengthened. Their eyes changed from hazy blue to clearer shades. They tore through the guest room in bursts, collapsed together, then woke ready to begin again.
Clover had started refusing some nursing attempts and walking away when the kittens became too rough. Nora’s first impulse was to return her to them. Instead, she gave the mother a high shelf and let her rest.
Pip became bolder when June was beside her. Alone, she still crouched at sudden sounds. Together they investigated the hallway, stalked the edge of the blue towel and attacked Nora’s shoelaces while she tried to work.
On Saturday morning, Nora found Lena sitting on the back step.
A paper cup rested beside her.
Nora sat down.
For a while they watched Clover wash one paw on the other side of the screen.
“I was wrong,” Nora said.
Lena picked at the cardboard seam of her cup.
“I liked that Clover came to me. I didn’t want to hand that trust to anyone else.”
“You could have come with me when we trapped her.”
“I know.”
“You knew then. You just didn’t trust me.”
Nora accepted the correction. “That too.”
Lena looked toward the yard. “I could have explained better. I was tired, and I talked to you like you were another person leaving bowls behind a dumpster and calling it rescue.”
“You called my feeding station a raccoon buffet.”
“It was a raccoon buffet.”
Despite herself, Nora smiled.
Lena did not smile back immediately. “I’m still angry.”
“I know.”
“And if it happens again, Riverbend will move the kittens.”
“I know.”
A moment later Lena reached for her coffee. “The couple interested in Pip and June is coming tomorrow. They’ve been approved, and the final veterinary check is this morning. If the meeting goes well, the kittens can leave with them.”
“Tomorrow,” Nora said.
Anne and David arrived ten minutes late, apologizing over each other. David carried a feather toy even though the email had asked them not to bring anything into the room.
“I thought it might help,” he said.
“It might eventually,” Nora replied. “For now, just sit.”
They obeyed, although David reached toward Pip too soon. The kitten retreated beneath the chair.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I moved too fast.”
Anne lowered one hand to the rug and turned her face away. June approached first and attacked the lace of her shoe.
Pip remained hidden.
Nora sat near the closet. Every part of her wanted to lift the kitten out and place her in Anne’s lap—to make the meeting succeed, to decide what happened and when.
Instead, she waited.
After several minutes, Pip crept forward. She sniffed Anne’s fingers, retreated and returned. Then she moved beside June and sat on the hem of Anne’s coat.
Anne stayed still.
David looked at Nora. “Should we do something?”
“Not yet.”
Pip settled against her sister.
Nora brought the carrier into the room and placed it on the floor. Then she opened the door…
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