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“Are we?” I realized she was giving me a sly smile.

“Are we what?”

She didn’t reply, merely gestured me over to the counter, which still held the old jewelry shop’s ornate bronze-and-walnut cash register with a floral design that matched the floor. She pulled the handle and the drawer slid open, and she handed me a cheque.

“What’s this?” My eyes bulged as I read the number scrawled in expensive ink. “Mina! How did you—?”

“It’s a donation,” she said, laughing at my expression. “It came in yesterday. A nice woman who was quite taken with the shelter when she passed by on her way to the bank. It’s the third we’ve received this week. The other two aren’t anywhere near as large, but—”

She didn’t finish the sentence, because I’d pulled her in for a hug. She laughed again, and when I drew back, wiping my eyes, she offered me a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” I said, blowing my nose. “You’re wonderful, Mina. I hope you know that.”

She made a dismissive gesture, but I could tell she was pleased. “I had nothing to do with it! Shall I send a telegram to Dr. Para?”

“You had better—it seems we can pay off our debt now, with a little left over.”

We spent the next quarter hour discussing our finances, during which I couldn’t help noticing that Mina appeared more animated than I had ever seen her. She was still a woman of few words, but the many trials we’d faced in recent weeks had brought out the fierce determination in her that I had only glimpsed before. I wondered if it was because we’d been placing more trust in her, or if Mina, like most, simply felt her best when presented with visible evidence of her usefulness.

Afterwards, I wandered through the shelter, greeting our visitors and saying hello to the cats. Most I had not met before, including a voluminous tabby that Mina had named Champlain. At the sight of me, he began to rub his side enthusiastically against the bars, which made it impossible not to open the cage and give him a proper greeting. Champlain, though, was the sort of cat Élise and I referred to as a dine-and-dasher, possessed of a disposition so desperately affectionate that they remained at the shelter only long enough to partake in a meal or two before someone fell in love with them. As soon as the cage door swung open, he was clambering into my arms and rubbing his head against my chin, purring.

“Here, Maman!” one of the children exclaimed, pointing at Champlain. I gave a quiet laugh and placed the big cat in the girl’s arms.

Anya, a university friend of Mina’s and our newest volunteer, approached as I was petting a tuxedo named King Francis. “That man was asking for you,” she said, gesturing. “He came by yesterday as well.”

I turned, though I already knew who it would be—Laurent had stopped in at the other shelter a few days before, when I had been down in the basement. Sure enough, he stood by the register, chatting with Mina while his dark gaze studied me.

I felt my heart speed up—mostly from nervousness, I think, but it was also possible there was excitement there. I could hear Élise’s words in my head: That detective obviously likes you, and you like him, too. And he at least is an ordinary man, and quite possibly a decent one.

She had been convinced that Laurent would invite me to dinner, and that I should say yes, because I needed to forget about Havelock. And she was correct about that, but I couldn’t say if she was correct about my feelings. Certainly I found Laurent attractive, but was there more to it than that? I couldn’t say.

Is it Robin? Élise had asked, watching me closely.

I had shaken my head, and she hadn’t pressed the matter. No, it wasn’t thoughts of Robin that kept me from entertaining thoughts of Laurent. The truth was that I had always assumed I would find someone else eventually, and this had never aroused any turmoil within me. Not because I was content to replace Robin, but because I knew he would never be replaced. Someone else might take up space in my heart, but they would never encroach upon the largest space, as quiet and cavernous as a cathedral, which would always belong to him.

I made my way towards Laurent, but before I’d taken three steps, an older man with abundant grey eyebrows stepped in front of me, thrusting his hand out.

“Roger Fairwood,” the man said, shaking my hand. “I just dropped by to thank you again. Never have I slept so well in my life. What a wonderful organization this is!”

“You adopted Juliette,” I said, smiling in recognition. But my smile faded as I heard his words again. “Wait—was it you who told Rémy you had adopted an enchanted cat?”

Fairwood laughed. “I don’t know that I used those words. I don’t wish to get you into any trouble.” He glanced over his shoulder at Laurent, grimacing slightly. “But I simply had to thank you for dear Juliette.”

I forced myself to smile. From the look the man was giving me, he was convinced I was a magician and had enchanted Juliette myself. I didn’t think Laurent could hear our conversation; he was still regarding me, though.

“I’m convinced it was her,” Fairwood continued. “And of course I have additional cause now—I hear others have also benefited from your cats. Is that not so? I was chatting with one of the librarians at the main branch, and she told me her joints have never felt so spry since she took home a delightful little thing called Tapioca. I will not ask how you do it, but I do wonder—how do you know what each person needs?”

I hadn’t the slightest idea how to respond to this, particularly as he stood there gazing at me with a kind of quiet reverence. Fortunately, when I only stuttered, he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said. “No doubt it’s beyond my comprehension. Thank you, Agnes. I have seen many things in this life, you know. Too many, I sometimes think. I did not believe I could be surprised anymore, let alone awed.”

He tipped his hat to me and departed, and I was able to make my way to Laurent, feeling more than a little discombobulated. It wasn’t just that Fairwood had taken me for a magician, it had been his uncomplicated, almost childlike reaction to magic. Yes, he thought my supposed magic had benefited him, but had he forgotten all the ills magic could bring about? He had not seemed to fear me at all.

“You’re a difficult woman to pin down,” Laurent said, turning from the cage to smile at me. “Been busy?”

“Very.” I was only too happy to tell him about the success of our new shelter—I was ever aware of his scrutinizing gaze, which seemed to perceive more than it revealed, and was eager to discuss something I could be honest about.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “You’ve managed to make friends in high places. Fairwood seems a great admirer of your charity.”