That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(6)

“As you wish,” she said with great dignity and moved past him. Philip glared at her, then sighed, exasperated. He headed for the stairs, running down to the second floor.

When he reached Carrie Weston’s apartment, he was winded and short-tempered. She answered his knock almost immediately.

“Mr. Lark.” Her eyes widened with the appropriate amount of surprise, as though she’d spent the past five minutes standing in front of a mirror practicing.

“It seems you and I need to talk.”

“Now?” she asked.

“Right now.”

Three

Carrie Weston was lovely, Philip realized. For reasons he didn’t want to analyze, he hadn’t noticed how strikingly attractive she was when they’d met in the elevator. Her eyes were clear blue, almost aquamarine. Intense. Her expression warm and open.

It took him a moment to recall why he’d rushed down here to talk to her. Maybe, just maybe, what Mackenzie had been saying—that he was shriveling up emotionally—contained a grain of truth. The thought sobered him.

“I need to talk to you about Mackenzie,” he stammered out.

“She’s a delightful young lady. I hope I didn’t keep her too long.” Carrie’s words were apologetic as she reached into the hallway closet for her coat.

“It’s about your discussion with her this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry I can’t chat just now. I feed Maria’s cats on Wednesdays and I’m already late.”

It could be a convenient excuse to escape him, but he was determined to see this through. “Do you mind if I tag along?”

She looked mildly surprised, but agreed. “Sure, if you want.” She picked up a ten-pound bag of cat food. Ten pounds? Philip knew the older woman kept a ridiculous number of animals. Gene had complained to him more than once, but the retired schoolteacher had lived in the building for fifteen years and paid her rent on time. Gene tolerated her tendency to adopt cats, but he didn’t like it.

“You might want to get your coat,” she suggested as she locked her apartment.

“My coat?” She seemed to imply that the old lady kept her apartment at subzero temperatures. “All right,” he muttered.

She waited as he hurried up the stairs. Mackenzie leaped to her feet the second he walked in the door. “What’d you say to her?” she demanded.

“Nothing yet.” He yanked his coat off the hanger. “I’m helping her feed some cats.”

The worry left his daughter’s eyes. “Really? That’s almost a date, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think.” He jerked his arms into the jacket sleeves.

“She asked me if I wanted to bake Christmas cookies with her and her two brothers on Saturday. I can, can’t I?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Carrie Weston was wheedling her way into his daughter’s life. He didn’t like it.

Mackenzie didn’t look pleased but gave a quick nod. Her worried expression returned as he walked out the door.

Philip wasn’t sure why he’d decided to join Carrie. He needed to clarify the situation, but it wasn’t necessary to follow her around with a bag of cat food to do so.

“Maria has a special love for cats,” Carrie explained as they entered the elevator and rode to the ground floor. “I just don’t feel it’s a good idea for her to be going out alone at night to feed the strays.”

So that was what this was all about—feeding stray cats.

“Maria calls them her homeless babies.”

Philip sure hoped no one at the office heard about this. They stepped outside and his breath formed a small cloud. “How often does she do this?” he asked, walking beside Carrie.

“Every day,” she answered. Half a block later she turned into an almost-dark alley. Carrie had said she didn’t think it was safe for Maria to venture out alone at night. Philip wasn’t convinced it was any less risky for her. He glanced about and saw nothing but a row of green Dumpsters.

They were halfway down the dimly lit alley when he heard the welcoming meow of cats. Carrie removed a cardboard container from a Dumpster and left a large portion of food there. The cats eagerly raced toward it. One tabby wove his way around her feet, his tail slithering about Carrie’s slender calf. Squatting down, she ran her gloved hand down the back side of a large male. “This is Brutus,” she said, “Jim Dandy, Button Nose, Falcon and Queen Bee.”

“You named them?”

“Not me, Maria. They’re her friends. Most have been on their own so long that they’re unable to adapt to any other way of life. Maria’s paid to have them neutered, and she nursed Brutus back to health after he lost an eye in a fight. He was nearly dead when she found him. He let her look after him, but domesticated living wasn’t for Brutus. Actually, I think he’s the one that got Maria started on the care and feeding of the strays. I help out once a week. Arnold and a couple of the others do, too. And we all contribute what we can to the costs of cat food and vet care.”

All this talk about cats was fine, but Philip had other things on his mind. “As I explained earlier, I wanted to talk to you about Mackenzie.”

“Sure.” Carrie gave each of the cats a gentle touch, straightened and started out of the alley.