“You’re bothering these young ladies,” he says, now holding the guy’s arm behind his back. The cop is not in uniform, but dressed head to toe in black. “Did you not hear her say she wasn’t interested?”

The guy winces. “I was just talkin’ to her.”

“Bull. I heard the woman ask you to leave her alone.” He turns to me. “Do you want to have a drink with this guy?”

“Hell no.”

He looks at my friends. “Do any of you want a drink with this guy?”

“No!” A chorus from the girls.

The cop turns back to him. “Now, here’s a life skill for you to learn that applies to women. No means no. What part of no do you not understand, the N or the O?”

I can’t help but laugh at the line.

“Now apologize to the young ladies.”

“Sorry.”

“That didn’t sound terribly sincere.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Good. Now we’re gonna take a little walk outside and I’m going to give you directions to the dive across town where I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” The cop turns and shoves the guy toward the door, following him out.

“Cute bouncer,” says A.J., watching him the whole way.

Rory smiles. “He’s a cop.”

Tish turns to her. “What, you know the guy?”

She nods and points at me. “The other night he pulled Freckles over in front of her house ‘cause she was speeding to get home to the kittens but he didn’t believe her story. So she invited him in to prove her case and he let her off with a warning after he saw the kittens. Of course, she gave him the Strawberry Shortcake look.”

Tish rolls her eyes. “Her trump card.”

“Hey, give me a break,” I say, stealing a quick look at the door. He still hasn’t returned. “He’s really nice.”

“Damn, a hot cop,” says A.J. “So invite him over to play stop and frisk. I’d jump on that if I were you.”

“You’d jump on anything,” says Rory.

A.J. waves her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “Pffft.”

“Anyway,” says Rory, “they had this big eye contact thing going and when he left he gave her his card, told her to call him if she needed anything. He’s definitely interested.”

I hear the door open and see Officer Marino come back inside and head toward our table. I slide my chair over to make room for him. “Thank you, kind sir. Appreciate the rescue from, as you put it, one of those ne’er-do-wells harassing me.”

“Not a problem.”

I pull an empty chair over from the next table and pat the seat. “Please, join us. I’m buying.”

“Sorry, I’m working. Hope that guy didn’t ruin your evening.”

“Thanks to you he didn’t.” I hear one of my friends clear her throat. “Oh, I’m being rude. Officer Marino, you already know Rory. That’s Tish and A.J.”

He nods at them. “Pleasure. We’ll if you guys are okay, I’d better get back to my duties.”

“So, you moonlight here?”

“Yeah, pick up some extra bucks. Saving up for a house. Well, see you around the neighborhood.”

“Sure. Thanks again.”

He starts to leave, then stops and turns back to me. “Oh, by the way, how are the kittens?”

“They’re doing fine. Fat and happy.”

He gives me a smile. “Good. Most people would have just dumped them at a shelter. It’s great that you didn’t abandon those little guys.”

Annddd … cue the guilt.

He heads back toward the bar while I turn back to my friends.

Rory locks eyes with me. “So … that clear things up a bit for ya?”

Kelly looks up from her textbook as I get home. “Have a nice time?”

“Yeah. Any problems?”

“Nope. They’re fed and cleaned up. All asleep but one.”

Suddenly I pick up the pace toward the box. “Something wrong?”

Kelly smiles. “Nah. I think your favorite is waiting up for you.”

I look at the box and see three kittens curled up together in a ball while the tortoiseshell sits in front of them. It starts to meow the moment it sees me and paws at the air, wanting to be picked up. “You okay, little guy?” I crouch down and pick up the kitten, resting it on my chest. It keeps talking, then begins to purr.

“I think he just missed you. He’s quiet when you’re not here.”

“He does demand more attention than the others.”

“I don’t think that’s it. He’s not that way with me. I think the tortoiseshell is a one-person cat, and you’re his person.”

I’m on my third cup of coffee at my usual corner table in A.J.’s family deli. The Saturday morning rush finally ends and she moves out from behind the counter to join me, sliding an Italian pastry in front of me as she sits with her own cup of java. “You get any sleep last night?”

I shake my head. “Hell no. Couldn’t stop thinking about my big decision. Kittens versus Air Force One.”

“So the wheels are still spinnin’?”

“Yeah.”

“What direction are they going?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay. What’s the story on the hot cop?”

“Rory already told you.”

“So, you gonna call him?”

“Huh?”

“I thought he gave you his card?”

“Yeah.” I reach in my purse and hand it to her.

She looks at it and rolls her eyes. “Marino. It figures.”

“What?”

“You guys get all the good paisans.”

“What do you mean, you guys?”

“You Irish girls. Italian men can’t resist you. They see the red hair and the freckles and it’s game over for the rest of us. You’re like their damn kryptonite.”

“Oh, stop it. You have men beating down your door.”

“All named Smith and Jones. I can’t ever find a good guy with a vowel at the end of his last name. So, you gonna call this cop, or what? You obviously like him.”

“You know I don’t call men.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we miss the Sadie Hawkins dance? For God’s sake, it’s not nineteen-fifty. You can ask a guy out.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

“You pick up the phone and say, Hey, I think you’re smoking hot and wanna jump your bones.”

“Very funny. Seriously, I’ve never asked a guy out for a date. I’m not sure I could do it. It’s a little scary for me.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re a network reporter, you take no prisoners with major politicians, you go on live television in front of millions of people, and you’re afraid to pick up the phone and call a guy?”

“The microphone and camera give me license to do all those things on TV. Without it … well … it’s just me.”

“Okay, so here’s what you do. Use a back door method of getting a date. You call the guy and tell him you want to thank him for saving you at the bar by cooking him dinner.”

“That might chase him away. You know I can burn a salad.”

“I’ll give you some simple recipes. Or how about this … I can simply box up some cannolis and you can drop by the police station to thank him personally. The precinct is right down the street from your house.”

I shake my head not wanting to deal with this right now. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, right. Coward.” She starts clucking like a chicken.

I shove the pastry in my mouth, take a big bite and talk through the crumbs. “Leave me alone.”

“Of course, if you take the Air Force One thing, you can’t ask him out. He thinks a lot of you because you’re taking care of those kittens. How would it look if you ditched them?”

“I think ditched is a rather strong term.”

“You like abandoned better?”

“I don’t believe this is happening. I’m considering turning down the dream job of a lifetime because of a bunch of cats and a guy who might like me. And I’m actually conflicted about it.”

She flashes a big smile. “Yep. And I must tell you, this is fun to watch.”

“I’m glad you find my current situation so amusing.”

The bell above the door rings announcing a customer. A little blonde girl carrying a bunch of papers who is trailed by her mother moves toward our table. “Excuse me … I need some help.”

A.J. turns to the girl, who is maybe eight years old. “What can I do for you, sweetie?”

She hands each of us a sheet of paper. “Would it be okay if I put this in your window?”

What’s on the paper tugs at my heart.

LOST CAT

Our beloved cat, Snowflake, got out of the house and is missing. She’s an indoor cat and not used to taking care of herself. She’s all white with one blue eye and one green eye, is wearing a red collar and answers to her name. She is very friendly. If you see her please call.

Below that is a photo of the girl hugging the cat.

A.J. smiles at her. “Sure, honey, put it right on the front door.”

“Thank you.”

The mom thanks A.J. as the girl moves to the glass door and tapes the flyer on the inside. I can’t stop looking at the picture. “Poor kid, lost her pet.”

“Poor cat,” says A.J. “Not sure how long an indoor cat can survive outside.”

“Hopefully one of your customers will see her.”

As previously mentioned Tish is my most logical friend and the one whose advice I seek when I’m stuck. (Though I didn’t take it regarding Jeremy.) We’re both dateless tonight while A.J. and Rory are out, so we’re sharing a bottle of wine and binge watching Justified on Netflix. Watching Timothy Olyphant waste a bunch of dumb rednecks is an enjoyable pastime of ours. (Okay, even if he didn’t shoot anyone we’d watch. Mea culpa.)

A soft meow makes me hit the pause button as I see the kittens are up, with their spokesman the tortoiseshell announcing the arrival of feeding time. I look at the clock and see they’re right on schedule. “I think they can tell time.”

Tish laughs. “Their stomachs can. You want help?”

“Sure.” I bring the box into the kitchen and prepare the bottles as Tish takes a seat. “Honestly, I don’t know how people with babies do this for a couple of years. This is wearing me out. I have new respect for working moms. And moms in general.”

“Well, this is a good experience if you ever become a real mom, though that is a helluva lot harder. I remember helping my mom take care of my little sister.” She picks up a kitten and starts to stroke its fur. “Speaking of which, did you ever talk about having children with Jeremy?”

“Why are you bringing up he-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Just curious. Since your date at the wedding made it clear he didn’t like kids. I was just wondering since you were talking about marrying the guy. It’s an obvious subject for a couple to discuss.”

“Now that I think about it, Jeremy never really talked about it much. Then again neither did I. Our careers were pretty much dominating our lives.” I hand her a bottle while I sit and grab the tortoiseshell. Tish starts feeding her kitten while I do the same.

“And now?”

“You’re starting, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Doing your lawyer thing where you ask a question when you already know the answer. I know all your tricks.”

“So you admit you’ve changed.”

“What, am I on the witness stand here? Stop cross-examining me. But yes, I’ve changed.”

“Isn’t it true that despite the lack of sleep you are enjoying taking care of these kittens?”

I don’t respond and look away.

“The witness is directed to answer the question. And may I remind her that she’s under oath.”

I shake my head and look back at her. “Fine. I like having them depend on me. And the way this one looks right into my heart …”

The kitten meows. I swear the furry little thing understands English.

Tish laughs. “I think we’ve just heard from the jury. You have been found guilty of caring.”

“So, you ever gonna give me your opinion on what I should do?”

“Asked and answered last night.”

“C’mon, Tish. I need help here.”

“Okay, fine. Sidebar. Let me ask you this. What’s the best story you ever did as a reporter?”

“That’s easy. The series I did on the veterans’ facility on Long Island that was run down.”

“Why do you consider that one your best?”

“Because it changed lives. The government got embarrassed and fixed the place up, the vets got the care they needed and the people who were embezzling funds are still in jail. And I felt really good after all that happened knowing I was responsible. I still have all the letters from veterans thanking me.”

“So, basically, would you agree that as a reporter the most important stories you do are the ones that make the world a better place?”

“Right. And I had to do a lot of old school journalism on that one. A ton of legwork and digging. I like investigative stuff. It’s like putting a really difficult puzzle together and you’re missing some pieces, but you can find them if you work hard.”

“And if you follow the President around on his campaign for a few months, will that take any investigative work?”

“Probably not. You’re part of a pool of reporters and just report what he does, get the best sound bites and do nightly live shots. I would ask strong questions, but the guy is a master at filibustering so you never get a straight answer. The odds of getting anything but his memorized talking points are slim.”

“Will your work on that assignment make the world a better place?”

I don’t answer as I look at the kitten.

“And will it make you a better person?”

I look up at her, my eyes a little wet. “I can see why you rarely lose a case.” I finish feeding the kitten, burp it, then pick up another one. “Tish, you know the worst thing about this decision?”

“No. What?”

“No matter what I choose, I’m going to feel bad about it. And always wonder if I did the right thing.”

“Something tells me you won’t.”

I finally get up around ten on Sunday morning, feeling like crap after too much wine and too little sleep. The middle of the night kitten feedings are catching up with me, but that will be over soon when they can feed themselves.

And of course, I still haven’t resolved my big dilemma.

A.J. made it worse throwing the cop into the mix.

Tish hit me with logic like a damn Vulcan on Star Trek.

Rory? She just gives me a look that tells me which way I should go.

A few weeks ago my life was simple. Decisions were easy. Black and white.

Now I’ve added gray and tortoiseshell and stripes into the equation.

I stagger into the kitchen to prepare the bottles for the kittens when I see something that makes me wide awake.

The box of kittens is empty.

They’re gone!

“What the hell?”

My eyes widen as try to replay the events of the evening. I fed them at two in the morning and put them back in the box.

Didn’t I?

A loud meow distracts me and I whip my head toward the noise.

And see the tortoiseshell halfway up the dining room curtains. “Oh, for God’s sake. There you are. Where are your friends?”

The doorbell rings as the tortoiseshell continues talking, as if to say, “Hey, look at me, I can climb!” I head to the door, shuffling my feet so as not to step on a kitten along the way.

It’s Rory, carrying a grocery bag of food for Sunday brunch. “Watch where you walk!”

She studies my face. “Huh?”

“The kittens got out of the box and I don’t know where they are.” The tortoiseshell meows and I cock my head in his direction. “Well, I know where one is.”

“Oooh, I love what you’ve done with the curtains.” Rory comes in and we start looking for the kittens. She finds one under the couch while the other two are busy playing on a chair with a hair scrunchy.

The tortoiseshell protests as I pull him off the curtains. “Okay, I need a bigger cardboard box.”

Rory rolls her eyes as she holds two of the kittens. “Uh, you do know that cats can climb trees, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“They’ll just climb out of a bigger box. They have claws.”

“Oh, right.”

“They’re obviously bored and tired of being cooped up. They want to play and explore. Cats have that curiosity thing hardwired into them. You’re gonna have to let them out.”

“Well I can’t have them running around the house getting underfoot. I might accidentally step on one. And I can’t have them climbing up the curtains.”

“Put ‘em in that spare room. All you’ve got in there is exercise equipment. It’s a warm, sunny room and they can run around and play. But make a bed for them so they can snuggle.”

“So now the kittens are getting their own room.”

Rory nods and shoots me a smile. “They’re like the camel asking to stick its nose under the tent. Pretty soon you’ll be asking them for space.”

Chapter Five

Befitting my mood, it’s raining heavily as I drive home on Monday evening.

Below the speed limit. (Not a good thing to do in New York if you don’t want the bird flipped at you.)

My emotional roller coaster has sucked the life out of me. And my lead foot. I’ve become like those zombies I see in Grand Central about to go home on the train, one of the commuting undead.

The moment I gave my boss my decision, I began to second guess myself.

Back and forth all day.

I did the right thing.

Or did I?

I pull into my driveway and trudge up the steps, head down. Inside I find Rory working on her laptop. She looks up and studies my face. “Uh-oh. I know that look.”

I shake my head as I attempt to hang up my raincoat, but I miss the hook and it falls to the floor.

I roll my eyes and leave it there.

She gets up and moves toward me. “Well? What did you decide?” She grabs my raincoat off the floor and hangs it up.

“I’m not on Air Force One, am I?”

She flashes a wide smile, then gives me a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Are you still proud of me if I tell you I’ve been wondering if I made the wrong decision all day?”

She breaks the embrace and leans back. “Yep. You can replay it all you want. Bottom line, you did the right thing. Freckles, you’ve got nothing to prove. You’ve already reached the top of the food chain in your career. Covering the guy in the White House for several months cannot be that appealing.”

“I guess. Y’know, funny thing I discovered about my chosen profession today that I never noticed before. People will eat their young for a promotion. Right after I told my boss I was turning down the assignment he threw it open to anyone who wanted to toss his hat in the ring.”

“I thought he was gonna give it to that woman you hate?”

“Perhaps the higher-ups realized she’s a brainless bimbo. Anyway, you should have heard my cohorts bad-mouthing one another all day, trying to get the assignment.”

“So who got it?”

“They hadn’t decided when I left.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking it’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m thinking that the people in the news business need souls.”

“Well, you’re okay in that department, Freckles. Yours is beautiful.”

A loud meow from behind distracts me. “Aren’t the kittens in the spare room?”

Rory looks past me and points. “That’s not one of your kittens.”

I turn and see a soaking wet cat in the window, shivering and crying. “Awww. Poor thing got stuck in the rain.” I move to the window and open it. The cat dashes in and immediately shakes, sending a spray of water everywhere. But it’s still shivering. I grab a towel from the bathroom and kneel down to begin drying it off. “Talk about a drowned rat. Okay, kitty, you can stay here till the rain stops.”

And then it hits me.

White cat with one blue eye and one green eye.

And a red collar.

“Rory, I know this cat!”

“Huh?”

“She’s been lost. Belongs to a little girl I met at A.J.’s deli.” I quickly run to the kitchen and grab the flyer I’d put on the bulletin board, then head back to the living room and hand it to Rory, who has taken over cat drying duties. “Her name is Snowflake.”

The cat meows and looks up at me when I say her name.

Rory looks at the flyer. “Well, one little girl is gonna be real happy.”

I grab my phone and call the number on the flyer. It goes to voicemail so I leave a message. “Nobody’s home.”

“The cat is probably hungry.”

“I don’t have any adult cat food. I’ve got a can of salmon. Think she’d eat that?”

“Geez, Freckles, I dunno if cats like fish.”

Palm slap. “Duh.”

Three hours later Snowflake is dry and curled up at my feet as the doorbell rings. I answer the door and find the little girl and her parents wearing big smiles. The girl yells “Snowflake!” and runs past me. The cat immediately perks up, runs to the girl and jumps in her arms, then starts licking her. The girl hugs her tight.

I feel my eyes well up a bit as I usher her parents inside.

“Thank you so much,” says her mother, the spitting image of her daughter. “By the way, I’m Joanne and he’s Jonathan. My daughter has been devastated since the cat went missing. How did you find her?”

“I saw her in the window when it was raining, so I brought her in. Then I realized she was the lost cat on the flyer. I was in the deli when you guys came by.”

“Really nice of you,” says her dad, a tall, sandy-haired man around thirty who looks like a young Robert Redford. He smiles as he watches the girl and the cat.

“Looks like your daughter and Snowflake have a special bond.”

The guy turns back to me. “Oh, I’m not her dad. I’m her uncle. Joanne’s brother.”

The woman drops her voice a bit. “My ex is out of the picture.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. Samantha and I are doing fine. And Jonathan is a big help.”

I hear the tortoiseshell crying from the spare room.

The little girl looks at the door. “Oh, you have a cat too?”

“Right now I have four little kittens. You wanna see them?”

“Yeah!”

I lead everyone to the spare room where I find the tortoiseshell sitting up in front of the other three, as it’s feeding time. The little girl kneels down and begins petting them. “Where’s the mother cat?” she asks.

“Well, unfortunately she went to cat heaven.”

“Oh no.”

I tell them the story of finding the kittens. “Anyway, I’m taking her place until they’re old enough to feed themselves. Would you like to help me bottle feed them?”

The little girl turns to her mother. “Can I, mom? Please?”

“Sure, honey.”

I go to the kitchen and return with the bottles of formula. I sit on the floor next to Samantha and show her how it’s done. “Okay, now, hold your kitten very gently and put the bottle in front of it. It knows what to do.”

The child follows my instructions and beams as the kitten latches onto the bottle and begins draining it.

Her mother pulls out a cell phone. “Oh, this is too cute. I have to get a picture and some video of this.” She crouches down and aims the phone.

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