He laughed in surprise. “Go on.”
“Laine Francis?” said a tech who’d just appeared in the waiting room.
“That’s me,” I said, rising to my feet.
“Right this way,” she said, motioning for us to follow her down the hall.
The walls of the examination room were plastered with posters about cats, and there was a cat-size scale on the metal table. I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding. This wasn’t like Belle’s vet, and it was going to be okay.
The tech disappeared. Then a few minutes later, she returned with the vet, who introduced herself as Dr. Patricia. Unlike my vet, who was a tall, lissome redhead, Dr. Patricia was short and curvy, with a halo of dark curly hair and a berry-stained smile. I liked her on sight.
“So, what do we have here?” she said, peering into the carrier. She pulled out the tabby. “Oh! Gorgeous.”
Maybe if you like furry aliens, I thought, watching the thing squirm in her hands, but then I realized that it was awfully adorable.
“About eight to nine weeks old, I’d estimate.” She turned to me. “You said they were abandoned?”
I nodded. “My mom found them in Prospect Park.”
“They’re young to be without a mother, but with the right care, they should do just fine.” She handed the tabby to Ben, who was sitting beside the table. He looked surprised but put it on his lap. “Are you going to keep all three?”
“I wasn’t planning on keeping any of them,” I confessed.
“Not even this little one?” she said, retrieving the black-and-white one. “Oh, you’re a sweet thing.” She peered into the carrier. “Definitely the runt of the litter.”
Unexpected tears sprang to my eyes as I remembered my vet back home saying the same thing about Belle.
I blinked hard. “My mother’s dealing with some serious memory issues,” I explained.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Though sometimes having a pet can be good for older adults, even if they have memory issues. I understand, though, if that’s a burden for you—or whoever’s the caregiver for your mother.”
Caregiver. Had a word ever felt so loaded? “We’re trying to figure that out,” I said.
She nodded. “Cats tend to be a bit easier than dogs, on the whole, but a pet is still a responsibility, and no one would fault you if you weren’t up for it. We work with a local adoption agency to help find foster homes for cats, so just let the receptionist know if that’s something you’re interested in. Anyway, it’s good of you to bring them in.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I said, looking at the kitten. Her legs wiggled this way and that as Dr. Patricia lifted her up. “Definitely a girl!” she announced. “Since the other two seem to be doing fine, I think I’ll start with this little gal. Does she have a name?”
“Not yet,” I said. Yet? What was I saying? You didn’t name a pet unless you intended to keep it.
“What I like about animals is that they tell us what to call them when they’re good and ready.” She set the cat on the table and shone a light into her eyes, murmuring approving things. As she pried open her tiny mouth, the cat mewed in protest. Then Dr. Patricia put her stethoscope to its heart. The lines in her forehead deepened as she moved the stethoscope around. I was about to ask her what was wrong when she said brightly, “Well, I’m noticing a slight heart murmur.”
“Really?” Oh no—here came the tears again.
“It’s rarely a sign of a major problem,” she said, misunderstanding my response. “Especially when it’s this faint.”
I had to clear my throat to speak. “I know,” I said quietly. “My dog had one, too.”
“Is that so!” she said. “Well, then you know—nothing to be too concerned with, though we’ll keep an eye on it. Never a bad idea to be careful with your heart.”
My eyes landed on Ben, who was already smiling at me, and I smiled back at him.
“We’ll get her vaccinated today, along with the other two,” said Dr. Patricia. “But that’ll come at the end. Do you want to hold her while I examine the last kitten?”
I nodded and took her from the vet. For all my mother’s affinity for the species, I’d always found cats aloof and frankly kind of boring. But I couldn’t help but laugh as the kitten went to battle with a few stray strands of my hair. Then, just as I was wondering if I should put her back in the carrier before she ripped my flesh open with one of the tiny razors at the end of her paws, she climbed up my shirt, right over the left side of my chest, and put her head down. I felt a rumbling, then heard a faint whirring noise. Was something wrong with her? No, I realized. She was . . . purring. The way cats did when they felt safe and content.
“Hello there, you strange little thing,” I whispered. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
She rumbled in response.
I thought of the way my mother had laughed delightedly that morning as the cat played in her lap. Even the memory of it made me happy now.
“Joy,” I said, smiling down at the cat. “Of course your name is Joy.”
THIRTY-FOUR
LAINE
Hadley, Piper, and I had agreed to gather at her place the following afternoon to discuss plans for our mother. Josh offered to come with me, but I’d thanked him and said no. This was one conversation I needed to have on my own.
“Wine?” asked Hadley when she let me in. She’d just put the twins down for a nap and looked like she would’ve preferred to join them.
“No, thanks,” I said as I wandered into the living room.
“Suit yourself. I’m ready to drink the whole bottle, pump and dump be damned.”
“I’ll take some,” said Piper, who was sprawled across the sofa reading a magazine. She glanced at me. “You should have some, Lainey. Might make this a little less painful.”
“I would, but I really don’t like wine,” I said.
“Since when?” my sisters said in unison.
“Since . . . always,” I admitted. I usually said yes when it was offered to me because everyone else was drinking, and then I’d take the tiniest of sips to not be rude. But aside from the occasional margarita, I wasn’t one for alcohol.
“Oh,” said Piper, frowning. “Well, I feel dumb. Sorry—I should’ve picked up on that.”
“Me, too,” said Hadley. “Sparkling water, then?”
“Don’t apologize,” I said. To Hadley, I added, “That sounds perfect.”
“I thought maybe you’d bring Josh,” said Piper, pushing herself into a seated position as I took a seat on the sofa across from her.
“I figured it would be best if the three of us spoke first.” Hadley’s living room was enormous, especially by New York standards. Through the windows, the sun glinted off high-rises, and airplanes passed in the distance. “Hey—did you know Josh is thinking of moving here?”
Piper’s eyes lit up, and that was when it really hit me: whether she knew it or not, she brightened at the mere mention of him. I wondered if she had any idea that her affection for him might be less familial and more romantic. Once the dust settled on our divorce, I could almost imagine them being together—and the fact that this was peculiar yet not upsetting was nothing if not a sign that I’d made the right decision to end things. “But you’re divorcing,” she said suddenly. “So . . . wait. Would you be moving here separately?”
“It’s complicated,” I said carefully, “but for now, safe to say he’s ready for a fresh start.”
“Wow. The kids will be thrilled,” said Piper, but her smile told me she was the one who was especially excited about this development.
Hadley reappeared. “What’s this about?” she said, handing us each a glass.
“Josh is thinking of moving to the city,” I told her.
“Really?! That’s amazing. Maybe you two can pack up a van and move together. Two birds and whatnot.”
Maybe not, I thought.