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Eloise

A month later, Jack was still on my mind.

Damn, that guy is hot.

I knew we’d be together someday. Maybe only for a night or two. Maybe longer. Either way, it was bound to happen. I saw the way he looked at me. I chuckled.

I glanced down at Rover, who was sprawled across the floor like he owned the place. “Looks like you’re officially mine since no one’s claimed you. I put up flyers everywhere.” I scratched his ears. “But that’s okay—I like having you around. Do you know why?”

Rover blinked at me, unimpressed.

“Because you don’t argue with me,” I answered. “And you’re a much better listener than Jenny,” I heard Jenny chuckle.

I was checking out a fifteen-year-old cat named Tinkle, whose owner, Mable, was not handling the situation well. Mable was already upset when she walked in, but after examining Tinkle, I knew the truth—she didn’t have much time left. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud to Mable.

When I stepped into the lobby, holding Tinkle, Mable was crying. My receptionist—and cousin—Jenny had an arm around her, patting her back awkwardly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I already knew.

“Jenny told me Tinkle is old and dying,” Mable sniffled. “She said I should be grateful I had her for this long.”

That was all it took—my own tears started falling. Like they always do when someone else cries. My sister constantly made fun of me for it, but it wasn’t something I could control. Believe me, I’d tried.

“I’m sorry, Mable,” I said gently. “Jenny’s right. Tinkle doesn’t have much longer. All you can do is take her home and let her live out her days peacefully.”

Mable stepped forward, kissed Tinkle’s head, and walked straight out the door.

Confused, I turned to Jenny. “Wait—where is she going?”

Jenny shrugged. “You should probably check.”

I hurried to the door. “Mable! Aren’t you taking Tinkle with you?”

“No,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t want a dead cat.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“I’m going to the pound to get a new kitten,” she announced. “One that won’t die on me.”

“Mable, you don’t even have a driver’s license ! You can’t drive anywhere. Who brought you here?”

I sighed as she climbed into my car and shut the door. Arms crossed. Waiting.

Jenny snorted. “What are you gonna do?”

I groaned. “Put Tinkle in a room. I’ll take Mable, and then I’m calling Grandma to deal with this.”

As I grabbed my purse, I walked out the door and shouted, “Mable, what are you doing? Put that cigarette out! When did you start smoking?”

“I started last week,” she said, taking another puff, thank God she didn’t inhale. “Henry says it’s good for your nerves.”

I nearly dropped my keys. “You’re eighty-two . Put it out! Smoking is terrible for you.” I shook my head. “Why would you listen to Henry? He’s been smoking his whole life, and now all he does is cough. His health is awful . Do you want your health to be awful?”

Mable grinned. “Henry’s my boyfriend.”

I turned to stare at her. “Since when ?”

“He wants to move in with me.”

“No! Do not let Henry move in with you!” I nearly choked. “He’s always drunk when I see him. Have you talked to your kids about this?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Eloise, why would I do that? They’d tell Henry to stay away from me! I like it when he comes over. He stays all night and—”

I held up a hand. “ Nope! Stop right there! I do not want to hear about what you two do!”

Mable just smirked. “Oh, honey. You should live a little.”

I snatched the cigarette from her fingers before she burned herself and frantically looked around. What do I do with it?

Then I remembered—my car had an ashtray.

I popped it open and shoved the cigarette inside before slamming it shut, praying it didn’t start a fire.

I sighed. “Why aren’t you taking Tinkle home with you?”

“Because I don’t want to take care of her anymore,” she said bluntly. “She pees everywhere now. No bladder control. You should just give her a shot and put her out of her misery.”

I gaped at her. “Mable!”

“What?” She waved a hand. “She had a good life.”

I stared. When had Mable gotten so… so… ruthless ? Was this what aging did to people?

“If you don’t want to take care of an animal,” I said carefully, “then why are we going to get another one?”

“A kitten is different ,” she huffed. “Kittens like to play. They pee in their box like they’re supposed to.” Then she shot me a look. “Eloise, if you found yourself a man , you wouldn’t have to live through other people’s lives. What’s taking you so long? Your grandma is worried you’ll be a spinster.”

I groaned. “Oh, not this again.”

“What about that boy you dated in high school? He was a nice young man.”

“He’s married , Mable.”

She waved dismissively. “Fine. What about some of Nate’s friends? I was at your sister’s wedding, and those Navy SEALs were extremely attractive. If I were twenty-five again, I’d give those young ladies a run for their money.”

I laughed. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously,” she continued. “You should consider it.”

“I don’t need a man, Mable. I need a vacation .”

She snorted. “Same thing.” I shook my head; she wasn’t making any sense.

By the time we got to the shelter, I was already regretting this trip.

“Mable, you know I hate coming here,” I reminded her as I parked under a tree. It’s depressing. I want to take all of the animals home.”

“I know,” she said. “Because you have so much compassion. You feel things other people don’t.” She patted my arm. “Why don’t you just stay in the car? I’ll run in and grab a kitty real quick.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I sighed, leaning back in my seat as she hurried inside. She wasn’t in there ten minutes before I saw her running back toward the car.

Running .

At eighty-two .

She was either about to collapse or she was guilty of something.

“That was fast,” I said as she slid into the seat. “Did you already fill out the adoption papers?”

She buckled her seatbelt. “Let’s go. I need to use the bathroom. I don’t like using other people’s bathrooms.”

My eyes narrowed. “Mable… where is the kitten?”

She grinned and opened her oversized purse.

Three kittens stuck their heads out.

“Mable,” I gasped, “you adopted three kittens?”

“They’re sisters,” she said innocently. “I didn’t want to separate them.”

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. “Mable… did you actually adopt them? Or did you just… take them?”

She didn’t answer.

I pulled into her driveway, still processing what had just happened. Before I could interrogate her further, she bolted out of the car, kittens in tow, and waved me off.

“Thanks for taking me to get a kitty!” she called over her shoulder.

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

I needed a vacation.

Or maybe just a drink .