Free The Christmas Cat by Melody Carlson Page A

about the two- and four-week visitations. “I know it sounds a little goofy,” he said quickly. “But my grandmother was really attached to her cats. They were like her children. She just wanted to ensure their future.”
    “I don’t mind a bit,” Vincent told him. “It’s been a little lonely at my house. I’d welcome your visits. And, like I said, I’m available to help with your home improvements. Just give me a call.”
    Garrison led Vincent to the cat pantry. “Feel free to take some things for Rusty.” He explained Rusty’s dietary preferences, removing an eight-pack of cat food cans as well as some other things. “And there’s a cat carrier out on the porch.”
    Before long, Vincent and Rusty were happily headed out the door. Garrison watched as Vincent drove the car away. “Three down, three to go,” he said as he closed the door. “Not bad for just over a week.”
    As he returned to painting, he knew he really owed Cara one. Make that two, since both Spooky and Rusty had found homes thanks to her intervention. He wondered how he could express his gratitude to her without offending her. He also wondered if there was any way to win her friendship . . . short of handing over Harry. As willing as he was to do just that—really there was no one else he’d rather give Harry to—he knew he had to honor Gram’s wishes.

7

    G arrison finished up the walls in the kitchen. After giving the cats each a kitty treat and promising to be back soon, he cleaned himself up and drove Gram’s old car to town. His goal was to get a nice bouquet of flowers for Cara. His way to thank her—both for Thanksgiving dinner and for her help finding homes for Rusty and Spooky.
    At the florist, he looked long and hard at the arrangements. He didn’t want to get anything too romantic—like roses—because he felt certain that would scare her off even more. He just wanted something pleasant and unassuming. Finally he decided on a sizeable pink poinsettia plant that was prettily potted in a large metallic green container. Very festive and Christmassy. It would look nice on her big, round dining table. He also found a card that he took the time to write inside. Nothing too familiar or presuming—but just casually friendly and grateful.
    “I’m going to make it a hood,” the saleswoman told him as he was pocketing his receipt.
    “A hood?”
    She pulled out a long strip of brown paper. “To protect it from the chilly air as you transport it to the car.”
    “Huh?” Sometimes he felt like an alien from a different planet. Since when did plants start wearing clothing?
    “Poinsettias are very sensitive to the cold. Make sure you get it directly into the house. Otherwise the petals will fall off.”
    He blinked. “The petals will fall off?”
    She nodded grimly. “Yes. And we have a no-return policy.”
    “Right . . .”
    “Is it a gift?” she asked as she taped the “hood” loosely around the plant.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
    “Well, whatever you do, don’t leave it by the front door. That would kill it for sure.”
    “Right.” He hadn’t realized a poinsettia was so temperamental.
    “Does the person you’re giving it to have pets or small children?”
    “No.”
    “Good. Poinsettia leaves are poisonous if ingested.”
    “Yeah, well, I doubt she will eat it.”
    The woman laughed.
    Garrison was tempted to tell the woman he had changed his mind. Who knew a simple plant could be such high maintenance? Almost as bad as a houseful of cats.
    “Well, I hope she enjoys it. It’s really a lovely gift.”
    Garrison carefully picked up the plant. “Thanks. I hope I can get it safely to her.”
    She waved her hand. “Don’t worry. I probably made it sound worse than it is. Just be careful with the cold air.”
    He hurried the delicate plant out to his car and, fastening the seatbelt around it, he quickly started the car and cranked up the heat. As he drove to Cara’s house, he wondered what he’d do