Tropical Holiday Tails - Zoe Chant Page 0,25

during the static moments where the spotty long distance connection was lost.

“No, Mrs. Grant, I had not heard the rumor that the island had returned anyone’s hearing. You understand that we could of course not guarantee such results for any of our guests.”

Finally accepting the futility of the topic, Mrs. Grant turned the subject to flowers and rambled at some length regarding exact species and arrangements. Scarlet patiently repeated exactly the same information she had imparted several times, over several modes of communications.

“I assure you, there will be no problem in supplying exactly what you desire.”

Mrs. Grant clearly did not mind the expense of a rambling call to Costa Rica, which did not surprise Scarlet. Someone who was willing to reserve the entire resort for a wedding did not have budget concerns. It was worth indulging her desire to discuss every part of the upcoming nuptials in agonizing detail…for the second time that week.

When Mrs. Grant had finally wound down, Scarlet was only listening with half her attention, looking over the end of year expense sheets and bonus calculations.

“Of course, Mrs. Grant!” she said with enthusiasm that probably wouldn’t sound too false over the poor phone connection. “We are looking forward to serving you. Have a lovely evening.”

It was a relief to finally take the phone from her ear, and turn it off.

A glance at the battery indicator suggested that Mrs. Grant had used nearly half of the phone’s charge. Scarlet plugged it into the charger and returned to her paperwork with all of her attention until Graham appeared in the doorway.

Graham had not inherited his grandfather’s oratory skills; when he dropped the loose mail on Scarlet’s desk, it was without a single word of explanation. The box, however, he was handling with particular care, and he actually grinned when he put it in front of her, right on top of the financial statements she’d been checking over.

“What is this?” Scarlet demanded.

The side of the perforated box was emblazoned with ‘LIVE CARGO’ and ‘HANDLE WITH CARE.’

As she stared at it in consternation, it meowed.

Behind Graham came Travis, grinning even wider than the gardener. “Here’s the stuff you’ll need for those,” he said cheerfully, putting a stack of bulky boxes down in the corner of Scarlet’s office.

“Those?!” Scarlet exclaimed. “There’s more than one? What are they?” The box on her desk wiggled. “Oh, no,” she said, suspecting the worst.

Graham was already making a beeline for the door and Travis laughed over his shoulder as they made their escape. “Christmas kittens for Gizelle! Conall wanted you to take care of them for the next few days so it could be a surprise!”

Then they were both hastily gone, and Scarlet was left with a box that meowed at her again, this time in harmony.

She looked at it in uncertainty for several moments while its contents protested, then sighed and carefully opened the box. It wasn’t like she could leave them in there indefinitely.

Two curious faces greeted her, with big blinking eyes in juvenile furry faces. One appeared to be a fluffy cream-colored Siamese mix, the other was a faintly striped gray tabby with white feet and ear-tips. They meowed plaintively and reached tiny, furry paws up the sides of the box at her.

“I should have told Mrs. Grant that Conall would be playing an entire charity concert for her damned wedding,” Scarlet muttered. She ignored the urge to scoop the kittens out of their box to see if they were as soft as they looked and went to investigate the boxes that Travis had indicated she would also need.

One of them proved to have cans of kitten food and a selection of toys and dishes. The other had a shallow plastic tub and several bags of scented sand. As Scarlet puzzled over the instructions printed on the side of one of the bags, there was a crash and she turned to find that the kittens had toppled the box over on her desk and were spilling eagerly out of it.

“Oh, no,” she said, rising to her feet. “There’s important paperwork…”

Clearly understanding her, the cream-colored kitten squatted down and began to pee.

Scarlet was across the room in less than a heartbeat, picking the startled kitten up and holding it up off of her desk as it squawked and finished her business over the floor and on Scarlet’s shoes.

Swearing under her breath, Scarlet carried the squirming creature to the bathroom, where it could do the least harm, and closed it in.

When she turned back to