Dream 3 - Finding the Dream (10 page)

Laughing, she turned into the drive at Templeton House. So foolish, she realized, not to have done this before. Old habits, she mused. Peter hadn't wanted pets, so there had been no pets. But Peter had been gone nearly two years. And that was two years too long not to have made some simple adjustments.

After parking the car, she glanced around at her menagerie and blew out a breath. "How the hell am I going to manage to get you all inside?"

She had a leash for the pup, which she attached to his brand-new collar. She held out no hope that he would understand the purpose. For a brief moment, she considered laying on the horn until someone came out to give her a hand. Which, she assumed, would send her new petting zoo into a frenzy.

So she'd deal with it herself. "You first," she decided, and opened the door. The puppy cowered, sniffed at the empty space on the other side of her lap. Then, gathering his courage, he jumped. If she hadn't been laughing so hard, she would have held on to the leash. But the pup landed in a sprawl and looked so surprised that she roared with laughter and the leather slid out of her hands.

He was off and running.

"Oh, damn it." Still laughing, she sprang out of the car. "Come back here, you idiot."

Instead, he raced in circles, then cut through old Joe's pampered bed of narcissus, yapping joyously all the way.

"Oh, that's going to be a problem," she realized. Wincing, she walked around the car to retrieve the sleepy kittens. In the back, the toms continued to complain at the top of their lungs. "All right, all right. Give me a minute here."

Inspired, she tucked a kitten in each of her jacket pockets, then hauled out the cat boxes. "You two are Michael's problem." Following the excited barks, she headed toward the stables.

The sight that greeted her when she stepped through the arbor of wisteria was worth every moment of annoyance. In the far yard, her daughters were kneeling on the ground embracing and being embraced by a wildly enthusiastic spotted mutt.

She took the picture in her mind, slipped it into her heart.

"Look, Mama!" Kayla was already shouting as Laura started toward them. "Come quick and look at the little puppy. He must be lost."

"He doesn't look lost to me."

"He has a leash." Ali giggled—a sound Laura could never hear often enough—as he scrambled into her lap. "Maybe he ran away from home."

"I don't think so. He is home. He's ours."

Ali simply stared. "But we can't have pets."

With a smile, Laura adjusted her boxes. "He doesn't seem to agree with you."

"Do you mean it?" Kayla rose. The expression of stunned joy on her face carved itself into Laura's heart. "Do you mean he can be our puppy and we can keep him? Forever?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Mama!" In one leap, Kayla had her arms wrapped around her mother's waist. She clung hard, fierce. "Mama, thank you. I'll take such good care of him. You'll see."

"I know you will, honey." She looked over at Ali, who remained still, staring. "We all will. He needs a good home and lots of love. We'll give him that, won't we, Ali?"

Inner conflict held her back. Her father had said pets were a nuisance, messy. They shed hair all over the rug. But the puppy was sniffing at her leg, wagging his tail and trying to jump into her arms.

"We'll take good care of him," she said solemnly. She started to step forward, stopped. Her mouth went lax in shock. "Mama, your pockets are moving."

"Oh." With a laugh, Laura set her boxes down, reached in and plucked out two furry balls, one silken gray and the other sassy orange, from her pockets. "What have we here?"

"Kittens?" Kayla squealed, grabbed. "Kittens. We have kittens, too! Look, Ali, we have everything."

"They're so tiny." Gently, cautiously, Ali took the mewling gray. "Mama, they're so tiny."

"They're just babies. Just over six weeks old." Every bit as much in love as her daughters were, Laura stroked a fingertip down the sleepy gray. "They needed a home too."

"It's really all right?" Half afraid to hope, Ali looked up into her mother's eyes. "It's really all right for us to keep them all?"

"It's really all right."

"More!" Tuning in to the sounds coming from the cardboard boxes, Kayla pounced.

"No, those aren't ours. Those are barn cats, for Michael."

"I'll take them to him." Desperate to share her fabulous news with anyone who would listen, Kayla handed her kitten to Ali and hefted both boxes by the straps. Grunting a little, she headed toward the stables. "Come on, cats. Come on, I'll take you home."

"Do they have names?"

"Hmm." Absently Laura stroked her daughter's hair, then made herself look away from the comical picture of Kayla, bobbling along with two boxes full of impatient felines and a puppy racing around her legs in clumsy, big-footed circles. "They will have, when we pick them out."

"Can I name one myself? Pick out the name all by myself? For the little gray kitten?" Ali lifted it to her cheek.

"Of course you can. What name would you like?''

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's—I don't know," Laura realized. "I forgot to ask. It's probably on one of the papers I filled out." With one arm around Ali's shoulders, she walked after Kayla. "The puppy's a boy, and both big cats are boys because that's what Michael wanted."

"Because he likes boys better?"

Uh-oh. "No, honey. I guess he figured tomcats would be meaner, and he wanted mousers."

Her eyes went huge. "He's going to let them eat mice?"

"Baby, I'm afraid that's what cats do."

Ali pressed the little ball of fluff to her cheek. "Mine won't."

Kayla's voice was already echoing in high, excited chirps, accented by the yaps of the pup, who had raced inside the stables with her. When Laura stepped in and her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw Michael and Kayla crouched together on the brick floor, taking stock of Templeton House's new mutt.

"Looks like a good dog to me," Michael stated, giving the pup an energetic scratch between the ears.

"So you can teach him tricks, right, Mr. Fury? How to sit and play dead and shake?"

"I expect."

The pup sniffed curiously at one of the cat boxes and was rewarded with a spitting hiss. Yelping, he streaked away and cringed behind Laura's legs.

"He's already learned something." With a grin, Michael opened the first box. "Don't mess with a cornered torn. No, honey." Michael took Kayla's hand before she could reach in to pet the cat. "I doubt he's in a friendly mood at the moment. Don't like being cooped up there, do you, big guy? Let's get you and your pal out."

He opened the other box, then drew Kayla back. "We'll just let them get the lay of the land. Once they've catted around some, they'll settle in." His eyes skimmed over Laura, lingered, then moved on. "Whatcha got there, Ali?"

"Kittens." Ali's hands and heart were full of them already. "Mama brought us kittens too."

"Fuzzy little kitties." As he walked to them, he ran his tongue around his teeth. "Cute."

"Mama said I could name the gray one myself."

"Then I get to name the orange one." Staking her claim, Kayla took the orange kitten out of Ali's hand and nuzzled it against her cheek. "Don't I, Mama?"

"Fair enough. We'll have a naming marathon after dinner. We'll just get out of Mr. Fury's way—"

"Can't we show the kittens to Max? Can't we?"

"Sure you can." Michael winked at Kayla. "He's a real softie." When the girls raced off, the pup at their heels, Michael shook his head. "What the hell have you done, Laura?"

"Made my girls very happy." She pushed back her hair. "And saved five lives in the bargain. Do you have a problem with kittens and puppies?"

"Nope." The cats had leaped out of their boxes and were slinking around, growling softly. Michael reached over and stroked the nose of his sober gelding. "You ever do anything halfway?"

"I've been known to." She unbent enough to smile. "I couldn't stop myself. If you'd seen the girls' faces when I told them that silly little dog was theirs… I'll never forget it."

With the same absent affection he'd shown the gelding, Michael stroked her cheek. He didn't know if he was amused or annoyed when she jerked like a spring. "You need some training yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You shy easy. I appreciate you picking up the cats for me," he said before she could think of a response.

"No trouble. The whole lot of them need to go to the vet. Shots. Neutering."

"Ouch!" In a knee-jerk male reaction, he winced. "Yeah, I guess that's the deal."

"It's the responsible choice—and it's required when you adopt from the shelter. I have all the paperwork. Except I—"

"What?"

"Well, I didn't think to ask about the sex of the kittens. I don't know if they told me. It started to get complicated and confusing, and I think I've heard that it's difficult to tell with young kittens."

It took an effort, but he kept his eyes solemn. "I've always heard you shake 'em. If they don't rattle, they're female."

It took her a moment. Then she broke into easy, appreciative laughter. "I'll be sure to try it. When the girls aren't around."

"There you are. I don't suppose I've heard you laugh like that more than a half a dozen times since I've known you. You were always being too dignified when I was around."

"I'm sure you're mistaken."

"Sugar, I don't make many mistakes when it comes to women."

"No, I don't imagine you would." To give herself a moment to make her retreat—yes, damn it, a dignified retreat—she turned to the gelding. "This is a handsome horse."

"He's smart. Quiet-natured. Jack?"

At his name the horse pricked his ears. Soberly, he turned his head to Michael. "How old are you, Jack?"

In response, the horse stomped a foot four times.

"What do you think of the lady here?"

Jack rolled his eyes toward Laura and let out a quiet and undeniably roguish whinny.

Charmed, Laura laughed again. "How do you get him to do that?"

"Jack? He understands every word you say. Want to take the lady for a ride, Jack?" The response was a decisive nod. "See?" Michael turned his own swift—and undeniably roguish grin—on Laura. "Want a ride, lady?"

"I—" God, she would love one, love to feel a horse beneath her again, let it have its head. Let herself lose hers. "I'd enjoy that, but I don't have the time." She offered Michael a polite, distant smile. "I'll take a rain check."

"Cash it in whenever you like." Too used to Thoroughbreds, he assumed, and shrugged. He'd take Jack over some finicky purebred any day.

"Thank you. I'd better get my motley crew inside. That is, if Annie lets us inside."

"She's a tough nut, Mrs. Sullivan."

"She's family," Laura corrected. "But I should have warned her before I started a small zoo."

"That small zoo is going to keep you up most of the night."

"I'll manage."

She managed, but it wasn't a walk in the park. The puppy whimpered and whined and, despite Kayla's lavish love, was satisfied with nothing less than Laura's bed. She knew it was a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to banish him when he cuddled so hopefully against her side.

The kittens mewed, fretted, cried, and eventually were comforted by each other, and the hot water bottle that an already doting Annie provided.

As a result, Laura was gritty-eyed and foggy-brained the next morning.

She fumbled at the keyboard in her office at the hotel, cursed herself, then focused on the file for an upcoming writers' convention. Twelve hundred people checking in at approximately the same time, certainly on the same day, were going to present a challenge. Then there were the hospitality suites, banquet and seminar rooms, audio equipment, pitchers of water, requests for coffee services, catering demands.

Cartons of books were already arriving by the truckload. She appreciated the spirit of the planned book signing for literacy, as well as the headaches it was going to cause her and her staff.

Composing a memo one-handed, she picked up her ringing phone. At the sound of the conference coordinator's voice, she straggled not to wince. "Yes, Melissa, it's Laura Templeton. How can I help you today?"

And tomorrow, and for the rest of my natural life, she thought as the woman requested more additions, more changes, just a few more little adjustments.

"Naturally, if the weather's inclement and we're unable to hold your welcoming party at poolside, we'll provide you with an alternate space. The Garden Ballroom is lovely. We often hold wedding receptions there. It's still available for that date."

She listened, rubbed fingers against her temple. "No, I'm not able to do that, Melissa, but if we do book the ballroom, we'll provide another alternate. I realize we're talking more than a thousand people. We'll accommodate you."

She continued to listen, made notes that somehow became mindless doodles. "Yes, I'm looking forward to seeing you again, too. I'll be in touch."

Taking one breath, one moment to clear her mind again, she got back to her memo.

"Laura."

She didn't groan, but she wanted to. "Byron, did we have a meeting?"

"No." He stepped in, seemed to fill her small office with his size. "Aren't you taking lunch?"

"Lunch? It can't be noon."

"No, it can't," he said mildly as she looked at her watch. "It's half past noon."

"The morning got away from me. I'm due at the shop in an hour. I have to finish this. Is there something urgent?''

Eyeing her, he closed the door at his back. "Take a break."

"I really can't. I need—"

"Take a break," he repeated. "That's an order." To ensure that she obeyed it, he sat down. "Now, Ms. Templeton, let's talk about delegating."

"Byron, I do delegate. It's just that Fitz is running ragged over the Milhouse-Drury wedding reception, and Robyn's swamped. The pharmaceutical convention and a kid with chicken pox. And—"

"And it all comes down to you," he finished. "You look exhausted, honey."

She pouted. "Are you speaking as my brother-in-law or as executive director?"

"Both. If you're not going to take care of yourself—"