have been Russell’s choice, but somehow it had survived anyway.
Cynthia put her finger to her lips, then motioned Shannon over. As she came around the desk, she saw a furry butterscotch-colored cat lying on the top of the copy machine, upside down with all four paws in the air, sound asleep.
“I have things to copy,” Cynthia whispered, “but I’ll wait until she finishes her nap.”
Shannon smiled. Cynthia hadn’t lived there long, but she’d already become a friend, and her love of animals was a big reason why.
“Okay,” Shannon whispered back, holding up the sack. “Here’s one more thing to try. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what we’re going to—”
“Cynthia!”
All at once Jessie jerked her head up, flipped over, and came to attention. The two women looked at each other.
“Uh-oh,” Cynthia said, and rose from her desk. Shannon followed her down the hall. They walked into Russell’s office, where Shannon saw him on his knees behind the desk, peering under it.
“What’s the matter?” Cynthia said.
“She did it again.”
“She?”
“The cat! Right there under my desk!”
Cynthia peered beneath the desk. “Oh. Hairball.”
“Yes, hairball!”
Russell came to his feet, saw Shannon, and froze. “Oh. Shannon. I didn’t know you were here.”
Cynthia saw Jessie sitting near the door. She scooped her up, cradling her in one arm and scratching behind her ears with her other hand. “Shame on you! Mustn’t barf on Dr. Morgensen’s rug. You’re such a bad, bad kitty!”
But Jessie was more interested in Cynthia’s magic fingernails than she was the halfhearted admonition. She raised her chin to allow better access, cat body language for You’re wonderful. I love you. Do that some more.
Shannon handed the sack to Russell. “Here. Lola says a hairball inside a wooly mammoth wouldn’t stand a chance with this stuff.”
Russell immediately handed the sack to Cynthia. Cynthia raised an eyebrow in Russell’s direction, then turned to Shannon. “My job description gets longer all the time.”
“Use the carpet cleaner with the pine scent his time,” Russell said.
Cynthia crinkled her nose. “The lavender smells better.”
“Pine,” he said, and looked at Jessie. “Maybe I should just keep my door shut.”
“No!” Cynthia said. “Don’t lock her out. She loves the morning sun in your office. And she’ll only scratch on your door, anyway.”
Russell looked glumly at the cat, as if trying to decide which would be harder—cleaning the carpet or repairing the door.
Cynthia carried Jessie out of Russell’s office, and he leaned over to brush invisible carpet fibers from the knees of his slacks.
“I did warn you about her being a long-haired cat,” Shannon said. “They’re more prone to hairballs.”
“No. It’s fine. Cats will be cats, right?” He put a smile with his words, but the whole presentation was just a tad too cheerful. “Thanks for the medicine.”
“Thanks for adopting Jessie. She really is a sweet cat.”
“Yes. She is.”
But Shannon wasn’t entirely convinced that Russell was convinced of that. But with Cynthia there to spoil her, Shannon didn’t worry.
“I’m looking forward to dinner on Thursday,” Russell said.
Oh, God. Please don’t remind me.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the evening with Russell. It was the fact that they were doing it at her parents’ house that made Shannon a little apprehensive. Her mother was angling for a son-in-law with “Dr.” in front of his name, which meant she’d insisted Shannon invite Russell to dinner. Eve, Shannon’s sister, would be there, too. Eve always kept the conversation moving, which was a good thing. It was what she chose to talk about that could make the evening go downhill in a hurry.
“I’m looking forward to it, too,” Shannon said.
“Well then,” Russell said, “I’ll pick you up at six o’clock on Thursday.”
“Sounds good,” she said, even though it didn’t. But as long as her mother didn’t invite Father Andrews, his Bible, and “the power vested in him by the State of Texas” to join them, maybe Shannon could escape the evening a single woman.
Late Thursday afternoon, Shannon opened the back door of the barn, hoping for some cross ventilation. But August in Texas could be hell on earth. Even at four thirty it was pushing a hundred degrees, and the air was so still it was as if not a molecule moved. The whole day had felt thick and sluggish, complete with dust and horseflies and the maddening buzz of cicadas. She wiped her forehead on the shoulder of her T-shirt, swiping strands of sweat-soaked hair away from her face.
She dipped the scoop into the grain bin and dumped it through the opening