Part 4 (1/2)
”If you know anyone who wants to adopt a cat,” he said quickly. ”Someone who lives in my grandmother's neighborhood.”
”I do know of a good no-kill animal shelter. Perhaps you could-”
”No, no. It's my grandmother's last wish that I make sure they find good homes.”
Her thin brows arched. ”Oh, my. Well, I wish you luck with that. Last I heard there was an abundance of cats in the Northwest.”
As Garrison drove home, he wondered if it was time to revamp his feline relocation plan. The attorney had discouraged him from letting the word out about the monetary reward that would go to adoptive homes. But perhaps he could drop some subtle hints in a revised cla.s.sified ad. Sweeten the deal, so to speak.
5.
The morning after Gram's memorial service, Garrison called Mr. Miller. ”I have some questions I hadn't considered when I spoke to you last week,” he told him.
”Yes, I expected you would. Any luck finding homes for the cats?”
”I placed one right next door.” Then he explained about his ads and posters and how he'd almost found a home for another cat. ”But the woman didn't fit Gram's criteria. She'd only lived in the neighborhood a few months. But she seemed like a good choice, I wish I could've given-”
”Sorry, Garrison. My job is to respect your grandmother's final wishes. I'm sure you can understand that.”
”Yes, well, that's not really why I called. Mostly I wanted to know what's to become of my grandmother's house. I know she'd had that reverse mortgage on it. But since I'm kind of stuck here for a while-I mean, until I get the cats resettled-I hoped I could empty it out a little. Also, there are some family things I'd like to keep if that's all right.”
”It's all yours, Garrison. Other than what your grandmother set aside for the cats, the remaining estate is yours. However, you won't officially inherit it until you get the cats successfully placed in new homes. It's all spelled out in the packet I gave you.”
”Oh . . . yeah . . . I haven't read through the whole thing yet.”
”So feel free to do as you like with the house. As I mentioned in my office, your grandmother paid off the reverse mortgage. The house is free and clear.”
”Free and clear?”
”Absolutely. I have the t.i.tle on file here. When your task is finished, it will be signed over to you.”
”So this is my house?” Garrison looked around the cluttered and run-down kitchen with wonder as reality set in.
”It will be. When the cats are re-homed.”
”Right.” Garrison considered this. ”That's really great. Thanks!”
”Thank your grandmother.”
”Yeah, of course.”
When Garrison hung up, he walked through the somewhat shabby four-bedroom house, taking it all in and suddenly seeing it with a fresh set of eyes. This place had real potential. If he fixed it up and sold it, he might get enough capital to start the halfway house he'd been dreaming of creating. He closed his eyes and sent a silent thank-you to his grandmother. She really hadn't forgotten him. Not at all.
For the rest of the day, Garrison threw himself into cleaning, sorting, repairing, and disposing. It was good therapy, and the results were making themselves visible by Wednesday.
”My goodness!” Ruby exclaimed when she came in to see what was happening. ”I hardly recognize the place. What's going on?”
”It started with removing some of the furnis.h.i.+ngs that were beyond hope,” he confessed.
”Yes, I saw the mess in the front yard.”
”Sorry about that. I've got someone coming to pick them up on Friday.” He adjusted his particle mask, wiping a streak of sweat from his upper lip. ”After that I just kept going. One thing led to another.” He glanced around the somewhat vacant living room. Other than the scratching posts and a couple pieces of furniture, the place looked stark. ”I'm afraid I've upset some of the cats.” He nodded to an old chair where Rusty and Oreo were nestled together. ”I hauled this piece back inside so they'd have something familiar.”
Ruby pointed over to where Spooky was sitting on the stairway, looking at them through the banister with what seemed a disgruntled expression. ”That one does not look happy.”
He shook his head. ”Yeah. Spooky is pretty mad at me. And Muzzy has been very loudly expressing herself too. Harry's the only one who seems to still like me.” He made a sheepish grin. ”But I figure I'm doing them all a favor . . . making it easier for them to go.”
”Any responses to your ads?”
”A couple of calls, but the people didn't fit Gram's criteria.”
”Too bad. Viola is settling in very nicely at my place. She doesn't even seem to miss the other cats.”
”Good to know.” He considered mentioning the bonus Ruby would receive in a few weeks. ”Any interest in taking on a second cat?”
”Oh, no. Viola is plenty of cat for me. And I do believe she's happier having me all to herself.” Ruby chuckled. ”She's already decided that my bed is her bed and truth be told, I don't mind a bit.”
”That's great. Well, I guess I should write up another ad for the cats. Maybe I can put some kind of Christmas spin on it. Give your loved one a cat for Christmas?”
Ruby looked uncertain. ”Speaking of Christmas, I came over to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Some single folks in the neighborhood are getting together to share potluck.”
”Right, I almost forgot about Thanksgiving. That sounds great. What can I bring?”
”Nothing.” She waved her hand. ”I just saw the condition of your kitchen. Doesn't look like any real cooking is gonna happen in there.”
”I'm getting ready to paint in there. But I could pick something up at the-”
”Never you mind. These old gals are already cooking up a storm.”
”If they cook half as good as you, it should be delicious.”
”Dinner is at two,” she said as she was leaving. ”You can drive us.”
”It's not at your house?”
”No. But I have directions. We'll leave a little before two.”
After working all Thursday morning, Garrison showered and shaved and dressed in his favorite black pullover sweater and tan cords. As he pulled on his jacket, he felt Harry rubbing himself against his legs. Realizing that he'd forgotten to put on a fresh particle mask after shaving, Garrison was surprised that he wasn't having another sneezing fit. Maybe his allergy meds were working better these days. Or maybe he was building some resistance. He bent down and scratched Harry's head. ”You're a good old boy,” he told him. ”More like a dog than a cat.”
Harry seemed to nod, almost as if he understood and agreed.
”Take care of things, buddy. I'll be back in a few hours.” He chuckled. ”I'm off to dine with-a bunch of old ladies.”
Ruby directed Garrison several blocks away. ”There, that's it. The little brown house with the gingerbread trim. Inviting, isn't it?”