“They’re our roommates.” Charlotte was pulling out ingredients. “They’ve been here two weeks and you still don’t know their names.”
“Sure I do.”
Charlotte put a pan on the stove top and gave her an I’m waiting look.
Shit. “Um . . .”
Charlotte snorted. “Michelle and Stacey.”
“Yes! You took their names right out of my mouth.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlotte was cracking eggs into a bowl. “Or is it Chloe and Emma . . .”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
“You’re an easy mark. And FYI, it’s Zoe and Mariella.”
“I knew that.”
Charlotte poured the eggs into the hot pan, making them sizzle. “Honey, you’re taking lone wolf to a whole new level this time.”
“I know. I’m a jerk.”
“No. You’re an introvert. There’s nothing wrong with that. But even a lone wolf has to come inside and get warm once in a while.” She added peppers and onions to the eggs, which made the kitchen smell like heaven. Then she pointed the spatula at Jane. “You’re so great with your patients—I’ve seen it. Sweet and personal and caring. They rave over you. But when it comes to making any real connections, you turn all thumbs. Why is that?”
Jane pulled some leftover bacon and chicken from the fridge and crumbled it into a small bowl. “I don’t see the point of making connections. Not when I’m going to be gone soon.”
“Ah. Right. Your favorite motto.”
Jane ignored this and headed to the back door, where she found herself caught in the cross hairs of the biggest cat she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Cat, as she called him—short for Alley Cat—sat on the back stoop, looking quite at home. Big but not overfed, a sleek, dark gray predator with slightly crossed light gray eyes. He eyed Jane for a long moment, letting her know she was in some sort of disfavor for being late with his breakfast.
“Sorry,” she said, setting down the bowl. “I nearly almost died, but don’t you worry, I’ve got your food.”
“Let him in,” Charlotte called out.
“He doesn’t want to come in. He likes being free, living how he wants.” Jane watched as Cat began to inhale the meat from the bowl, making some yummy yummy noises deep in his throat.
As far as she knew, he belonged to no one but himself. He made the rounds through the neighborhood daily, but seemed to spend the most time with Jane. She sat on the step at his side and stroked his fur in thanks for his blessing her with his presence. It was ridiculous how much she cared about him after only a few weeks, but as she kept telling everyone, she was leaving at the end of the season. It really would be cruel to introduce him to the fine life of indoor living, only to have to put him back out on the streets when she was gone.
She stayed with him until he’d finished his food and sat back on his haunches, washing his face. Done with that, he gave her another look, one she liked to think meant thank you, turned, and with a flick of his tail, was gone.
Other than Charlotte, it was the best relationship she’d ever had.
Back in the kitchen, Charlotte was still working on the food, and since Jane was starving, she revisited the fridge and this time came out cradling a glass container labeled JANE’S. “You’re my very own personal angel,” she told Charlotte, grabbing a fork for the vegetable lasagna.
“That was for last night, which of course you missed, and you really should heat it up first—” Charlotte broke off with a grimace of distaste, but didn’t further waste her breath as Jane dug into it cold.