“Connor Trevain, Commander Connor Trevain.” She said it in the tone of an awestruck groupie.
“Back for a visit, huh?” Commander Connor owns the fleet of cruise boats that sail Lake Zachary, although he’s never spent much time in Shoreside. He actually was a commander in the Navy, a graduate of the Naval Academy and served as a ship’s captain. It was well-known that he “came from money” as Auntie Lou would say. The fleet has some fabulous boats, the largest, the Zachary Zephyr is regularly rented for weddings, anniversaries and class reunions. The food and service are amazing and the surroundings romantic. It’s a très chic place to be married. The smaller boats take tourists sightseeing around Lake Zachary, sometimes stopping at Ziga’s, a supper club the Trevain family owns on the far side of the lake.
“No. That’s the best part!”
“I thought you said you saw him.”
“Not that. The best part is that he’s not here for a visit. He’s here to stay!”
That made about as much sense as wearing Bermuda shorts to shovel snow. Last I’d heard he was suffering away his time with some boating venture in Hawaii. “Why?”
“He’s decided to be ‘hands on’ with the business. Isn’t that exciting? He plans to captain the Zachary Zephyr.”
“Well, shiver me timbers, think of that.” I put my hands on my hips and stared at my friend. “So what?”
“So, he is rich and handsome and single, that’s what!”
The sun came out and the fog in my brain cleared. “And you have your eye on him?”
“Both eyes. He’s going to make the scenery around the lake more spectacular than ever.”
“Are you interested in dating him?” I asked, never quite sure what direction Lilly is going in with her rambling conversations. She’s a smart girl but fixated on clothes and, occasionally, men.
“Are you kidding? Of course, but he won’t look at the likes of me.” She grabbed my hands. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he asked me out?”
Her eyes got wide as two saucers. “I have to check to see what’s on order for the store. I’ll need new clothes. Who knows when I might run into him!” She eyed me up and down like a disapproving school marm. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get something new, either.” With a swirl of red, she shot back into her shop, where, I knew, she’d spend the rest of the day poring over fashion magazines and doodling with her own clothing designs.
I love Lilly. She’s funny, beautiful and my polar opposite. For every fashionista outfit she has, I have a pair of denim jeans and a sweatshirt. Of course, she doesn’t haul fifty-pound bags of dog food, change litter boxes or deal with untrained puppies in her business, either.
“And…”
I spun around to see Lilly poking her head out the door again.
“…the new cop is on duty. We can all sleep well tonight.” Then she disappeared again around the doorjamb and didn’t return.
Whew. Feeling as though I’d just been through a windstorm of trivia, I shook myself off and went back to tending to the only business I should be minding anyway.
Chapter Two
“Do you, Samantha Renée, promise to love and to care for this new member of your family? Do you promise to change his litter box, give him fresh water every day, be kind to him and protect him from harm? If so, answer, ‘I do.’”
“I do,” came a breathy little whisper.
I tried to stifle a smile as I looked at the pair across from me—a little girl with blond curls, pink overalls, a ruffled blouse and a white Persian kitten. Samantha held the kitten’s paw in the air with her hand and they both seemed to nod solemnly. I make sure everyone takes the Solemn Oath of Adoption seriously. Samantha’s parents stood behind her grinning widely.
“I now pronounce this adoption proceeding complete.” I whipped an embellished computer-generated adoption certificate off the counter and handed it to the little girl. Her blue eyes grew as wide as saucers at the official-looking paper to which I’d attached a gold seal, a few stars and a photo of the kitten. I always feel like the Wizard of Oz when I do my adoption spiel, like I’m handing out bravery, a heart, a brain or, in this case, a friend for life.
Then I began taking pictures with the Polaroid camera I have for just such auspicious occasions and doled them out to all the proud participants.
Samantha and the kitten, which she’d already named Squish because of the shape of his face, followed her father to the car to stow the litter box, litter, food, scratching post, toys and various and sundry necessities mandatory for a fourteen-ounce ball of fur to take over an entire household. Samantha’s mother hung behind.
“I can’t thank you enough.” She grabbed my hand and pumped it. “I’ve never seen our Sammie so excited…or so eager. I believe she is really committed to caring for that kitten. I may have to remind her of her responsibilities sometimes, but now she knows that kitten is hers. That ‘adoption’ ceremony makes it so real for her. What a brilliant concept!”
“That’s the idea,” I said modestly, although I, too, believed I’d thought of it in one of my more inspired moments. I did everything in my power to make sure the pets I sold were well cared for. The little adoption proceeding has been a clever and effective tool. Now parents drive across town to buy a pet from “the lady who makes my kid take it seriously.”
I can’t help it—taking animals seriously, I mean. It’s a direct command from the Big Book itself—right up front. “And God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over all the wild animals of the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.’” We are all His creations, and as those created in His image, we as humans have responsibility for His other creatures and handiwork. It’s way cool, of course, but also a big task and sometimes I don’t think we’re doing a very good job of it. If we were, every creature would be fat and happy and we wouldn’t have a need for rescue shelters. Until that happens, I’m just going to hang out here at Norah’s Ark and do what I can.
That thought reminded me that I’d promised Auntie Lou to help her find a kitten. She doesn’t care about pedigrees—“Pedigree, smedigree” she’d said once. “You love a pet ’cause it’s yours, not because you’ve got a list of its ancestors.” That means she needs to adopt the cat and buy only the trimmings from me rather than the other way around.
Auntie Lou is a bit of an anomaly on Pond Street. She lives above her store in a cozy little apartment. She doesn’t drive a car and I doubt she ever has. She’s been here as long as anyone can remember. Joe speculates that when she began selling things in her store, they weren’t actually antiques yet. Pond Street is home to Auntie Lou and we shopkeepers are her family. She never talks about having any other relatives and it’s assumed she has no one else. She’s a real throwback in this material world and that’s why I’m so fascinated by her.
The bell at the door stopped my musings as a tall blond man with rigid military bearing strode into the shop and glanced around with something akin to disapproval, as if the colorful parrot, a black-capped lory named
