“It all sounds good to me,” Gary said. “I think having both options is a smart idea. Something for everyone. And on that note, I’m heading home. I’ll see you both soon enough.”
Gary left and Emma took another sip of her chardonnay. She wasn’t in any hurry to get home. Jill was likely in bed as it was nearly eleven, but Emma was still wide awake. She knew once she got home and climbed into bed, exhaustion would take over and she’d go right to sleep but for now, she was still full of energy. Paul still had half a beer left and didn’t seem ready to rush off either.
“What was the name of that shelter you mentioned where you adopted your cat?”
Paul smiled. “Nantucket’s Safe Harbor for Animals.” A moment later he added, “I’m off during the day tomorrow and would be happy to go there with you.”
“That would be great, actually. Jill’s okay with it, so I am anxious to get a cat. I was thinking maybe an older one, five years or more. I know they aren’t adopted as often, and I’d love to give an older cat a good home. Plus, I’m thinking that they wouldn’t need as much attention as a lively kitten.”
“That’s true, and cats sleep a lot. I think the shelter is likely to have some older cats. I can swing by around eleven, if that works for you.” Paul finished his last sip of beer and put it in the bar dishwasher. Emma did the same with her now-empty glass of wine.
“That works for me. See you tomorrow.”
Paul came by at eleven sharp the next day, and Emma was ready for him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us and help me pick out our cat?” she asked Jill.
Jill shook her head as her phone started buzzing. “No, I’m slammed this morning. I trust you to pick out a good one. Have fun.”
Emma walked outside and Paul was waiting in his blue Ford pickup truck. She climbed into the passenger side and a few minutes later they turned onto Crooked Lane where the shelter was.
A volunteer had Emma fill out some paperwork, including references from her vet. She’d had several cats over the years, and they’d lost their last one just a few weeks before Emma learned about Tom. Losing Betty had been a blow, but she was an elderly girl at sixteen years old. They’d adopted her when she was nine. Emma knew her vet in Arizona would give her a good reference. Once she handed in the completed paperwork Mary, the volunteer, led them back to the area where the cats were held.
Emma always hated this part of going to a shelter. Her heart went out to all the animals and she wanted to gather them up and take them all home with her. But of course, that wasn’t possible. It turned out that her decision this time was easy. There were only four cats currently available. One was a kitten, two were both about a year old and then there was Izzy, a six-year-old beauty. She was a multi-colored Maine Coon cat, but a tiny one with a delicate face and a long, fluffy tail.
Izzy looked up as they walked into the room and Emma was glad to see that the cats weren’t in cages but were free to roam the room. The kitten was sound asleep while the two younger cats stretched in a patch of sunlight that came through the window. Izzy was perched on a carpeted cat stand, watching them. As they came closer, she lifted her head and closed her eyes, inviting Emma to pat her and scratch lightly under her chin. And then she hopped down and rubbed against Emma’s legs, weaving in and out. Emma wanted to scoop her up and take her right home.
“I’d love to adopt Izzy, if possible.”
Mary looked surprised, and hesitated a moment before saying, “She’s six years old, you know?”
“I know. She’s the one I want.”
Mary’s eyes grew damp, and she looked away before smiling and saying, “Bless you. She’s a doll, but we’ve had her for months now. Most people want to adopt the younger cats.”
“When can I take her home?” Izzy was still rubbing against her leg, and Emma bent down to talk to her. “I’ll be back for you soon.”
“I’ll process your application this morning and will call you as soon as I’m done. You might be able to swing by this afternoon to get her, if all goes well.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
Emma was still smiling as she followed Paul back to his truck and climbed in.
“Well, that was easy,” he said. “She’s a beautiful cat. Do you want to come by for lunch? I was planning to make a pot of seafood chowder, and you can meet my cat, Brody?”
“Sure.”
It didn’t take long to reach Paul’s cottage. It was small but neat, and Emma could see that it had everything he needed and was close to the restaurant. When they walked in, Brody ambled out to the kitchen to greet them. He was a big boy, and a vivid orange with white along his belly. When Emma scratched him under his chin, he purred so loudly that it startled her and Paul laughed. “I tell him he sounds like a train. He’s enthusiastic, that one.” Emma settled into one of the kitchen chairs and Brody hopped into her lap. They both watched as Paul got busy in the kitchen.