When We Found Home. Susan Mallery
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What? Oh, right. “The kitten.”
“Yes. I’ve been saving my allowance. I don’t know how much it costs to buy litter and stuff but maybe instead of giving me the money, you could use it to buy food and a scratchy post. Cats need to sharpen their claws.” Her jaw tightened and her chin raised ever so slightly. “Because I’m keeping the kitten.”
He was more taken aback by the gesture than the words. Not that it looked familiar, but because he knew what it felt like to do it, mostly because he did it himself when he was backed into a corner. The gesture was a combination of defiance and bravado—a message to himself and whoever had provoked the sensation of being trapped.
On the heels of that revelation, he was forced to deal with the reality of what her words meant. Keira was concerned about having to pay for a pet. The guilt knife turned a couple more times, reminding him that if there was a way to screw up relationships in his family, he’d probably done each at least twice.
“You’re welcome to keep the kitten—” he began, only to have her interrupt.
“It’s just a kitten. Even cats aren’t that big and I’ll totally take care of her. I’ll put the litter box in the alcove in my playroom and keep her in my rooms. She’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “Like I said, you’re welcome to keep the kitten.”
Her fierceness faded a little. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Tell Carmen what you need and she’ll get it. We’ll have to have it checked out by a vet.”
“Delaney already took her in. She texted me and told me and that she’s a girl and she’s pretty skinny but healthy otherwise. Lizzy is nine or ten weeks old. They think she was just abandoned.” Keira’s mouth trembled. She paused for a second, as if to gather self-control, then continued. “She’ll need vaccinations, though. Do you want my savings for that?”
He didn’t know if he should swear, throw something or take off for Bali. Instead he leaned toward his sister and did his best to look friendly rather than frustrated. “Keira, I will pay for whatever your kitten needs. Food, scratching posts, toys, vaccinations. Just tell Carmen, all right?”
“What if she needs surgery?”
“It’s covered.”
“Good, because she’ll need to be spayed when she’s six months old. It’s the responsible thing to do.”
“I’m glad you know that.”
“What if she needs a heart transplant? They’re expensive. Will you do that?”
He was fairly confident there was no such thing as a feline heart transplant, but that wasn’t the point.
He looked at Keira, meeting her wary gaze, and nodded. “Yes. I will pay for your cat to have a heart transplant.”
She visibly relaxed. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll take good care of Lizzy. I promise.”
“Why Lizzy? Why not Muffin or Fluffy or whatever else it is people call cats?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve, Malcolm, not five. It’s Lizzy for Elizabeth Taylor because she’s beautiful. I know it’s a cliché, but it reminds me of Angelina and I still miss her.”
He was having trouble following the conversation. “Angelina is your friend from Los Angeles. The, ah, person who took you in after you lost your mom?”
“I didn’t lose my mom. She took off and left me and then she overdosed.”
Keira was nothing like the sweet kids who had populated the sitcoms he’d watched when he’d been growing up. “But Angelina is the person who took you in?”
“Yes.”
“And he, ah, she is a transvestite?”
“Transgender. Do you know the difference?”
It was not his world, but he tried to stay relatively current. “Yes. He was born in the wrong body, so on the outside he’s a man but on the inside, she’s a woman.”
Keira looked impressed. “That’s right. Delaney is going to bring Lizzy by tomorrow. She wants to give me another day to rest.”
“Be sure to thank her for her help,” he said, thinking he would have to check with Delaney about the expenses she’d incurred taking care of the cat. “Do you know when she’s coming by?”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to her when you two are finished.” He thought about everything that had happened just over forty-eight hours ago. “She took care of you, went with you to the hospital. Without her, it might have been hours before anyone knew who you were. I want to thank her for all she did.”
“Oh, that’s okay then. She’s coming about three. You’ll still be at work.”
“I’ll come home early.”
Keira looked skeptical but didn’t say anything. Malcolm glanced at her tray.
“You’re not hungry? Do you want Carmen to fix something else?”
Keira reached for a piece of toast. “I’m hungry now. I have to get better so I can take care of Lizzy.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” He rose and returned the chair to the desk. “I’m working from home this morning. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m totally fine, Malcolm. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He nodded and went to his own suite of rooms. Once there, he couldn’t shake her words. She’d told him she was fine the first day he’d met her. He’d wanted to know about her time in foster care and what she needed before they flew up to Seattle. She’d repeated the sentiment when they’d arrived at the house and Carmen had shown her where she would sleep. Keira always said she was fine and except for Lizzy, never asked for anything. Until now, he’d always taken her at her word.
A prickling sensation along the back of his neck had him wondering if instead of assuming all was well, he should probe deeper and find out for himself. Which would mean getting more involved in her life, getting to know her, something that until now, he’d avoided. Not because he didn’t want to care, but because he didn’t want to disappoint. Unfortunately it seemed that was no longer an option.
* * *
Santiago waited for the last quarterly presentation to be finished before wrapping up the meeting. Alberto’s Alfresco had grown 4 percent in the previous quarter, thanks to an increase in prepared dinners. Not just entrées, but curated four-course meals that required the barest of preparation and yielded something even the fussiest of mothers-in-law would appreciate. Every sector was up, except for dried soups and powdered beverages—their sales had been flat, something Santiago hadn’t expected. He was going to have to do some research.
He left the conference room and headed to his corner office. April was still the rainy season in Seattle, but the skies had momentarily cleared, giving him a view of the city. His office faced east—not exactly the prime west, Sound-facing office that Malcolm had—but Santiago didn’t care. He could see the Sound anytime he wanted from his condo and he liked the relative quiet of his corner when he needed to number crunch.
He sat down at his desk and paused for a second, thinking he’d come a long way from the farm worker’s kid he’d been when he’d entered the University of Washington on a football scholarship. He’d barely gotten through high school with a C average—he’d known sports were his only way out and he’d done his best to excel. Football he understood. He didn’t love it the way some of the guys did, but he respected the opportunities it provided and he’d worked the program. Academically, he’d been terrified.
He remembered the first day he’d shown up in his dorm room. His roommate, some skinny kid with