Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(56)

Around seven she decided to check on her new guest. Mrs. Bennet had moved to the big box Sophie had placed in the corner. Three tiny kittens were huddled next to their mother and as Sophie knelt on the floor next to the box, a fourth was born.

Mrs. Bennet immediately went to work, licking it all over, nosing it until it gave a little squeak of protest. Sophie’s chest tightened as she watched the skinny tabby guide the newborn to her belly where the kitten latched on.

“You must have been in labor when Jessica brought you here,” Sophie whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’ll be safe here. I’ll take care of you and your babies until they’re old enough to be adopted.”

She shifted to a sitting position, not sure how to tell when Mrs. Bennet was done giving birth or what she should do to help. She pulled out her phone and read a couple of articles and thought about the “birthing kit” she’d left in the garage. Not that there seemed to be anything for her to do.

About thirty minutes later another kitten was born. Sophie waited anxiously until she heard the tiny squeak that announced it was alive. Once it was nursing, Mrs. Bennet seemed to relax, as if she was done for the night. Sophie waited another half hour before checking to see if there were any discarded kittens in the corner of the box. Luckily, all the kittens had been born alive.

Around eight thirty, Mrs. Bennet got up to use the litter box and drink some water. Sophie put on plastic gloves and moved the kittens to a warm towel while she cleaned up the box. She put down fresh bedding and returned the kittens just as Mrs. Bennet finished eating a little dry food. The thin tabby paused by Sophie and looked at her.

“You did great,” Sophie told her. “You’re a good mom.” She reached out to pet the cat and was surprised when Mrs. Bennet leaned into her and started purring.

When the cat returned to her family, Sophie stood and backed out of the bedroom.

“I’ll check on you in a few hours,” she told the cat.

She made sure the door was shut, then let out Lily, who wanted to sniff all around the second bedroom door. Sophie left her to her explorations, showered and was in bed by nine thirty.

She woke twice in the night, checked on Mrs. Bennet and finally got up at four. She fed both mama cats, cleaned out the litter boxes, then dressed and was at the office before five. By six she’d left her jumbo sticky notes everywhere and was already unloading a shipment that had arrived after she’d left. Because it was always something, wasn’t it?



Chapter Sixteen


Heather hated herself for even going into the garage, but she had to know. Even as she told herself there was no way Amber would take stuff from the CK warehouse and sell it online, she shifted boxes and looked on shelves and behind old bicycles.

Over the years the garage had turned into a giant storage area-slash-junk room. If no one knew where to put something, it went into the garage. Christmas ornaments butted up against a broken toaster oven that really should have been tossed ages ago.

Heather poked through the most likely hiding spaces, knowing her mother wouldn’t be interested in making more work for herself. She didn’t find anything, which was both good and bad. She told herself maybe that meant Amber wasn’t stealing from her cousin’s company and she should be happy about that. The worry was either Amber was better at hiding her crime than Heather thought or Heather was a hideous daughter for even considering the possibility that her mother was a thief.

She retreated to the house. She would assume her mother wasn’t stealing and accept she was an awful person. In a way the guilt would be easier to deal with than Amber’s life of crime. To be honest, if she had found out Amber was taking stuff from CK, Heather had no idea what she would have done about it.

She walked into the kitchen and found her mother waiting for her. Guilt flared, making her stumble as she struggled for an excuse for what she’d been doing.

“I was looking at the garage,” she managed. “In case, um, oh! The house being sold. We’re going to have to empty it. That’s going to be a big job. I wonder if we should have a garage sale.”

Amber waved off her comment. “My mother isn’t going to sell the house. Come see what I’ve been doing. You’re not the only one who’s creative. In fact, any skills you have now, you got from me. God knows your biological father was useless.”

She opened the door to their small craft room. “Look!”

The space was a cross between a glorified closet and a tiny bedroom. Years ago Heather’s stepfather had installed long counters and shelves on the walls. There were bins for yarn and fabrics, drawers for all kinds of notions, and good lighting.

When Heather had been little, she and her mom had often made things together. Amber had been the one to teach her to knit and crochet and even quilt. The two of them had haunted garage sales, looking for inexpensive lamps they could fix up and make pretty again, or items that just needed a quick coat of paint to be serviceable.

Somehow all that had gotten lost, Heather thought. She supposed it had started after the divorce. Amber had been angry and bitter, and the closeness and fun had faded.

Amber pointed to several pillows on the long table. “See what I did? I downloaded the CK logo onto a thumb drive, then took it over to that craft store on the mainland. They printed it out on fabric for me. It’s really cheap and easy. Then I made the pillows.”