Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(24)

When he was relatively clean and kempt, it was nearly one o'clock. All three cats had gone to sleep and Sammy was obviously worn out. Still, she knew he was appreciative because he turned his head just once and licked her face.

"I'd let you sleep on the bed, but I don't think that's a good idea," she said as she gathered up all the wet towels. "Snowball tends to be the jealous sort. Sorry about that." Back in the kitchen, she made a comfortable bed out of an old blanket. The dog immediately curled up on it, sighed and closed his eyes.

"Night, Sammy," she said with a yawn and turned off the light.

Exhausted, Macy fell asleep right away and woke with the alarm. The sun was shining through the bedroom window and onto her face. Her cats had settled, the three of them, on her pillows, surrounding her head.

Snowball jumped down and left the room. Macy assumed he'd gone to investigate whether Sammy was still in the house. A couple of minutes later she heard him voice his opinion of their houseguest and then race back, yowling a long list of complaints.

"He isn't staying," she promised. "He's lost. How would you feel if you were lost?"

In response, Snowball turned his back and ignored her completely.

"Fine, if that's how you're going to be."

Macy dressed in white jeans and an olive-green sweater, then ran a brush--not the one she'd used on Sammy-- through her tangle of red curls. The makeup people would see to her hair and face later. This assignment, a photo shoot for a yarn company catalog, was scheduled for eleven. Radio was more fun, but the money she made from modeling put food in the cats' dishes.

She let Sammy into the yard, where he relieved himself against the fence--good thing Harvey wasn't out yet. A moment later he came back in and she refilled bowls and made a pot of coffee. Taking her cup, she wandered outside, which was part of her morning ritual. Sammy was busy wolfing down his breakfast.

Harvey had come into the backyard by now, a hoe in his hands, weeding his garden. She sat down on the step, savoring the cool spring air.

"Good morning, Harvey," she greeted him cheerfully.

He ignored her and continued hoeing. After a minute or two he muttered, "Don't see anything good about it. Seems like every other morning to me."

"I had company last night," she told him.

"Anybody I know?"

"Don't think so. He's a real sweetheart, though."

Harvey straightened and leaned against the hoe. He frowned. "You hiding a man inside your little house?"

"Definitely a male."

"I suppose you took in another stray. How many cats are you feeding, anyway? Your grandmother would be shocked if she knew you've turned her home into a cat house." He grumbled some other remark that she couldn't quite hear.

"I need a favor."

"Can't do it," he said and returned to weeding his garden. He lowered his hat over his eyes as if to shut her out completely.

"It's not a cat," she said as she walked to the fence and sipped her coffee. Sammy needed a place to stay until she could locate his owner or find a new one, and Harvey needed a friend. As far as she was concerned, it was meant to be. A perfect match.

"I'll bet it isn't a man, either," Harvey said. "Now that's something you could use. I don't understand what's wrong with you."

Admittedly, she had problems with relationships. She'd dated lots of men and even fallen in love a time or two. But eventually the men in her life seemed to grow disenchanted with her. They found her too disorganized, too eccentric, too impulsive. Initially her unconventional nature appealed to them, but then they decided they wanted a more "nine-tofive kind of woman," as one of them had put it.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

He snorted.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Not."

"I'm counting on you, Harvey."

"Don't care, I'm not doing it. You aren't getting me involved in one of your schemes, so don't even ask."

Sammy poked his head out the back door and padded carefully down the four back steps.

"Harvey, meet Sammy," she said, gesturing toward the dog.

Harvey glanced in her direction, then rolled his eyes. "It isn't bad enough that you're feeding cats. Now you've added a dog to your menagerie."

"He's a stray. Look at him. Doesn't he just melt your heart?" "Are you the one who gave him that ridiculous haircut?" "I didn't have a choice, his hair was so matted." "You bathed him, too?"

"I had to. He was filthy."

"Probably infested with fleas."

"Probably, but I got rid of them last night."

"So you say."

"Listen, I have to leave in a few minutes. I'm doing a photo shoot for that yarn company I was telling you about. They need me for hair and makeup at ten."

"Don't let me hold you up. Go." He waved her away.

"I can't leave Sammy here alone."

"Why not?"

Macy edged her way along the fence line, following him as he hoed. "Snowball's taken a dislike to him."

"At least one of your cats shows some intelligence."

"Harvey, will you watch him while I'm gone? Please?"