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Jess smiled. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “But if I find anybody who’d like one, I’ll send them over.”
“Wait! Somebody’s got kittens?” Jess’s mother, Francine, bustling past with a pitcher of juice, stopped in her tracks. “I’ve been pining for a cat since my old Sergeant Pepper crossed the rainbow bridge last summer. He was a ginger tabby. I’d love another one like him.”
“You may be in luck.” Tracy spoke up. “The kittens are at my house. One of them, the feistiest one, is a little ginger. They’re still nursing, but they should be ready to take home by Christmas.”
Francine’s smile broadened. “A little ginger, hmm? And feisty. I like that. Boy or girl?”
“He’s a boy,” Clara said. “And my daddy will give him free shots.”
“Well, that wraps it up!” Francine said. “Save that precious boy for me, and let me know when I can come and get him.” She hurried away, humming a Christmas tune.
“See? That was easy,” Clara said.
“And Ginger will have a great home,” Rush said. “Francine loved that old cat of hers. She’ll love her new cat, too. Come on, let’s get some food before you give away any more kittens.”
* * *
At the buffet table, they loaded their plates with airy scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and pancakes topped with strawberry sauce and whipped cream. When they returned to their table, cups of steaming coffee and a glass of orange juice for Clara were waiting for them.
“Good?” Rush asked Tracy.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She was eating, but she nodded. Her hazel eyes sparkled, reflecting the Christmas lights that decorated the ceiling overhead.
“I told you it would be good.” Rush liked watching her enjoy herself. And he liked being good to her. Tracy could use more of that, he mused. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone, and that somebody cared about her—even if she might not return his feelings.
“Hey, slow down, princess.” He patted Clara’s shoulder. He’
d remembered her as a picky eater, but this morning she was devouring her breakfast as if every bite might be her last. Rush knew enough to savor times like this. All too soon they would be over, maybe for good.
He’d had a reality flash last night when Cecil had called him from Oklahoma. Annie’s father had survived the stroke but would be disabled for the rest of his life. He and Annie’s mother wouldn’t be able to manage without help.
“I e-mailed our resignation to Sonya,” Cecil had told Rush. “And I let her know that you’ve taken Clara for the holidays.”
“What did she have to say about that?” Rush had asked him.
“As you can imagine, she wasn’t pleased.”
“So, are they coming home early?” The dreaded question needed to be asked.
“No. They know Clara’s in good hands. But I gave her your contact information. As soon as they’re back, you’ll be getting a call from her to arrange for Clara’s return.”
Rush had thanked the good man, ended the call, and lain awake for the rest of the night. Some ties were stronger than blood. For the first three years of her life, he’d been the only father Clara had ever known. How could he just hand her back to her parents and walk out of her life again?
If she never forgave him for that, he wouldn’t blame her.
“I’m getting full.” Clara’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“I believe I am, too,” Tracy said. “Thank you, Rush, for inviting me this morning. It’s been a treat—even though we may have turned a few heads.”
“Is that so bad?”
She laughed. “Maybe not. I could use a little scandal in my life.”
“That’s the spirit.” He wouldn’t mind creating a little scandal with her, Rush thought as he helped Tracy and Clara on with their jackets. Taking her out in public this morning with his little girl had felt almost like they were family. With her on his arm, and Clara holding his hand, he’d felt ten feet tall.
But he’d be a fool to believe anything would come of it. Tracy wasn’t his woman. Clara wasn’t his child—at least not biologically or legally.
“Can we go to Tracy’s house?” Clara asked as he helped her into her booster seat. “I want to play with the kittens.”
