Ink & Snow (Clair de la Lune #1)

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I woke up way too early. I’d ordered curtains, and they should have come with the movers, but finding them and putting them up hadn’t been a priority last night. Paying for my laziness, I blinked my eyes open, taking in the unfamiliar bedroom.

There was crown molding on the ceiling here too. The windows, tall, arched things that overlooked the back of the building, offered a view to some of the town’s roofs, though none were tall enough to steal much light. The winter-bare branches of trees reached upward, one of them looking like a cherry unless I was mistaken.

I stretched, remaining mostly under the covers. The apartment was still not really warm. Maybe I’d have to try out that fireplace, which the previous owner had said worked flawlessly. Learning how to make fire indoors was one more thing to add to my massive to-do list for the day.

I turned on my side, deciding I deserved five more minutes. My phone was on the mattress next to me. I woke the screen. Seven-fifty. That was disturbing. Too early for a tattoo parlor to be open probably, I thought, and saw Cecil’s texts in among all the business-related stuff.

Hey

Call me.

Call me?

Can we talk please

Soyer? Can we talk love

Please let’s talk

Soyer, I miss you. Let’s talk

And so forth. I didn’t even read the whole lot and instead muted him for the next seven days, which would hopefully give him the chance to move on like I was doing. If that didn’t teach him, I’d block his ass.

With Cecil-induced anger threatening to bubble up in me, I got up, winced when my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and got presentable as fast as possible.

I went through the remainder of my bagels, which were only mildly stale, as I walked around my new home and took stock.

As far as I could tell, Amory had managed to find the only thing that had broken during the move. One of my paperbacks had gotten snow or slush on the cover, and I’d have to replace it, but nothing else seemed amiss. The shop had a ladder, so I could hang the curtains no problem. The flowers in storage looked pretty good, though some of the roses would need to be cleaned, but I was confident I’d have enough stock until the next flower delivery on Monday.

I decided to spend some time unpacking first, maybe tinker a little more with the website I’d set up over the past two weeks to allow me to sell flowers beyond Clair de la Lune. I’d do that upstairs, lounging on my couch. That meant getting the fireplace running. It shared a wall with the kitchen and was pretty decently sized. Then again, the living room was big, almost as big as Cecil’s apartment. Well, one of them anyway.

I went downstairs, humming a tune I couldn’t place and heading to the back of the shop. Either in the property description or in one of Fran’s emails, I’d read that she had kept firewood there, and sure enough, I found the back door and a basket with old newspapers and kindling sitting conveniently in a corner. It was everything the YouTube video had said I’d need.

I had to go through a few of the keys—I’d have to change all the locks to proper security locks too—before finding the one that fit. The back of the shop came with a small garden, all of it pretty snowed in right now. I’d seen photos from spring or summer, and Fran had grown some flowers here that she used out front. Not a bad idea, but I’d have to experiment, see if it was actually worth my time.

The aged wood lay piled under an awning, covered with a tarp. I moved that aside, managing not to get snow on me, and piled some logs in the basket. After the third, I heard something off.

“Hello?” I said, not quite sure whether it had been a voice or what I’d heard.

Then the wail came again. Like a doomed spark in a snowstorm, the tiny sound rang through the cold air. It was a baby’s voice, a cat or dog. I listened. There it was, a meow, barely there, coming from the other side of the dried logs.

I stomped through snow to get there, which got my feet cold, but the small animal cried again, so I started shifting snow. I didn’t see any paw prints, but finally, I found the source.

Lying on its side next to three other baby cats who weren’t moving, there was a little black cat, eyes open and looking at me. It meowed, showing a pale, dry tongue. It was also trembling all over.

“You poor thing,” I said, wondering if compassion was the correct thing or if it would prolong the tiny creature’s suffering. It didn’t look like there was a mother coming to feed it. Its dead siblings were proof of that.

But the baby was looking at me. It was always in the eyes, that seed of sin that had taken root and started growing in me the longer I had done my old job. The baby cat wasn’t someone hurt by powerful people, but it needed help, and I was here. It had even called for me.

I did what I had never been able to do in my old job. I helped the vulnerable, the weak, the one who had no one. I picked up the baby, lifted it out of the nest of cooling bodies.

“Shh, it’s all right, I’m taking you inside. It’ll be fine.”

I’d have to find a vet. If it was necessary to put the baby down, I didn’t see why it couldn’t get warm one last time, know the succor and relief of gentle touch before the end.

I carried the basket of logs inside as well, left that downstairs, and took the baby cat who’d snuggled right into my arm up the stairs. I wrapped it in one of my towels and started looking for a vet on my phone. Surprisingly, there was one in town, not even that far away, but maybe a little too far for the black, furry icicle licking my towel.

“Fucking hell. Stupid car,” I said and just called the vet.

“Hi, this is Duncan,” said a man on the other end.

“The veterinarian?”

“Yup. What can I do for you?”

I stroked the tiny head, and the kitten leaned against my fingers.

“I found a litter of kittens. Four total, but three are dead, frozen to death, I think. I brought the one that lived inside, but I’m not sure what to do. I’d come to you, but my car died, and I’m not sure taking the kitten outside would be good for it. Is there any chance you can drop by and pick it up? I’m in the flower shop on Main.”

“Ah! With the electric car. That’s fine. I’ll call Dwayne to pick you two up and bring you over.”

“The sheriff?” I said, not even bothered by the speed at which news seemed to travel.

“Don’t call him that. He’ll think you’re in trouble. See you in ten.”

He hung up on me.

“This town is really weird,” I told the kitten. “But I guess you were born here so maybe it’s not weird for you. I’m sorry about your brothers and sisters.”

I picked the towel burrito up and carried the kitten over to the window that overlooked the front and gave me a nice view of the Village Green as Amory had called it.

It had snowed more. A fresh glaze had covered my car. Sure enough, two minutes later, a snowplow stopped out front, and Sheriff Dwayne got out.

“Let’s go down and meet him, shall we?” I asked the baby, who had at least stopped trembling. It’s tiny chest still moved, and behind my own ribs, hope stirred.

Dwayne was already at my door, peeking in through the glass. I unlocked for him.

“Morning. Duncan says you have an emergency delivery for the clinic. That it?”

“Yeah, it’s in there,” I said, holding the baby out.

“Nope. You’re coming.” He gestured to the counter on which I’d left my jacket after walking Amory home last night. “Grab that and let’s go.”

“But—”

“Now. Duncan doesn’t mess around with his patients.”

Dwayne certainly had that sheriff voice down.

Duncan had salt-and-pepper hair, a five-o’clock shadow, and a finders-keepers mentality he applied to rescues.

“She’s around four weeks old I guess, and she’ll need you to give her formula. I have that in the back.”

He went to get the formula, came back with it, and showed me how to mix it with water.

“I’m not a cat owner,” I told him, standing on the other side of a metal slab in a room that smelled of disinfectant and had a medical cross section of both a dog and a cat on the wall. I watched him feed the baby and explain how it was done.

“Well, congratulations.” He wiped her little mouth clean.

“Let me rephrase. I can’t be a cat owner.”

He looked at me, stroking the kitten behind her tiny ears. “Allergies?”

“No, I just don’t take care of things.”

Duncan’s eyebrows shot up. “But you own a flower shop. Once she grows up, she’ll hunt bugs and such for you.”

“But…I just can’t.”

That seemed to register finally, and Duncan sighed. “Listen, how about you keep her until after the holidays? Or until I can find someone else who can take care of her. Just two or three weeks. Should get you on Santa’s nice list.”

I looked down, and of course the kitten looked right up me and wobbled toward my hand on the tiniest of baby paws, her tail stretched out for balance.

“Fine, okay. But if you find someone who can take her sooner, call me.”

Duncan smiled. “Sure. What do you call her?”

I looked at him. “Why do I have to call her anything?”

He shrugged. “You found her. Seems right. And it might help find her a foster if you give her a cute name.”

I snorted. “What the fuck is a cute name for a kitten?”

“Language. Don’t curse in front of her.”

He grinned at me. I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m not keeping the kitten.”

“I never said you would. Just asking for a name for her file. And make it cute.”

I sighed, scratched her behind the ears, and yeah, she definitely started purring.

“Cherry. Short for Cherry Pie. Because everyone loves cherry pie.”

“Cherry. Okay. I’ll set you up with everything you’ll need. Mind the regular feedings, and if she gets lethargic or something doesn’t feel right, call me or Dwayne. Any time of day or night.” He scribbled something on a Post-it and handed it to me.

Kitty emergency, he’d written, followed by his number.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Cherry meowed as if to agree. For someone so tiny, she had a strong voice.

Sheriff Dwayne had a unicorn rubber duck stuck to his dashboard. Also a police radio, which made sense. The cup holders between us overflowed with very healthy-looking granola bars.

“You settling in okay?” he asked me on the short ride back to the store, plowing the inch or so that had fallen in the past hour as he went.

“I’m not sure. I think I met every medical professional in this town. And the law. Some might call that a bad omen.”

The sheriff grunted, looked at the bundle on my lap. “People used to say black cats are a bad omen. Idiots. Speaking of, you should get that car of yours charged. And get a proper winter jacket.”

I wasn’t going to pick a fight with the sheriff and accuse him of calling me an idiot, but I gave him a moderate amount of side-eye.

“I just got here last night, and this little stray sort of ruined my plans for the morning. Give me a break, Sheriff.”

“Dwayne. Just don’t want anyone to freeze to death out in the streets. Oh, the theme for this Sunday is ‘Illumination.’”

“Excuse me? Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

Dwayne hummed. “I thought Fran would have left you the paper with the schedule. We do a get-together in the park right across from your shop every Sunday before the holidays. It’s always themed. City council arranges most of it, but the volunteers carry the event. The first Sunday in December, Fran would usually sell her mistletoe wreaths there. Thought you might want to carry on the tradition.”

“Yeah, I had no idea. Thanks for bringing it up. I suppose I can make that happen in four days. You think I could sell the kitten too?”

The sheriff frowned at me as he came to a stop in front of the shop. “You want to sell Cherry? Why?”

“I’m not looking to be a pet owner. Your vet simply roped me into caring for her for a few days, but I wouldn’t mind shortening that period.”

Dwayne’s nostrils flared, and his beard moved as if he were pursing his lips. “Duncan would have to approve if you want to give her away. Look, I’ll deliver the formula to you if you’re busy.”

If there was one thing I really didn’t want, it was the sheriff-slash-road-maintenance-person dropping by my shop every other day.

“I think I’ll manage, but thanks.”

He turned off the engine. “I’ll help carry your stuff in. Cherry’s stuff.”

And he did, grabbing everything and getting out before I could. It struck me as wrong that such a small, trembling kitten came with no less than four bags of stuff, blankets, even toys, and special tiny animal food for when she could handle that.

“You’re not moving in with me,” I told the tiny kitten, who’d seemingly fallen asleep on my lap.

Well, fuck.