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Sully looked into the blue eyes staring into his. There was, of course, another option. A crazy, stupid, completely irrational option.
He sighed. “You’re going to need a new name.”
Ch. 27 Alanna
ThePetuniasearchandrescue mission got off to an awkward start when Layla flung open the front door of their mother’s house and immediately pulled her older sister into a full-body hug.
“I’m sooooo sorry this happened,” Layla cooed, gently rocking Alanna from side to side. “But we’re going to get Petunia back. I just know we will.”
For a moment, Alanna wanted nothing more than to melt into her sister’s arms and allow her unshed tears to cascade down her cheeks. Instead, she pulled in a shaky breath filled with the citrus scent of her sister’s fruity shampoo and gently extricated herself from Layla’s hold.
“What’s our first move?” she asked.
Operation Recover Petunia launched in earnest at 10:22 AM when Layla logged onto her Nextdoor account and created a missing cat post. Alanna felt more than a little ashamed that she had no pictures of the cat to offer her sister. Then again, Petunia had preferred to spend most of her time shrouded in darkness under the bed.
Not always,Alanna reminded herself. Lately, Petunia had started spending more and more time sitting at the foot of the bed. Why hadn’t Alanna ever snapped a picture then?
Luckily, Layla was able to scrounge a picture of Petunia from the archives of the Yucca Hills Animal Rescue.
“This was actually her adoption profile photo,” Layla admitted as she and Alanna stared at the picture of Petunia in mid-hiss, her teeth bared, her eyes warm as daggers. “Believe it or not, that was the best one we got,” Layla added, then turned back to the post.
“Practically everyone in town is on Nextdoor,” she assured Alanna. “I’m sure someone will recognize Petunia.” Layla offered her a confident smile, though Alanna noticed her younger sister playing with the end of her braid. That was always Layla’s nervous tell.
“What’s next?” Alanna asked. From the kitchen, she could see her mother sitting at the kitchen table, phone to her ear. Dede had offered to call the neighbors and let them know about the missing cat.
Layla dropped the end of her braid. “Next we check the Yucca Hills Animal Rescue to see if anyone found Petunia and dropped her off.”
Godspeed to that poor, brave fool, Alanna thought. It might be a better idea to call the local emergency rooms looking for animal attack victims.
After a short conversation on her cell, Layla hung up and gave Alanna a sorrowful look. “Petunia hasn’t turned up at the shelter yet, but Val—she’s the director of the shelter—is going to keep an eye out for her. She said she’d call me the second she hears anything about Petunia.”
“Great.” Alanna felt antsy. Why were her palms suddenly so sweaty? “What do we do next? Just wait?”
“No, silly!” Layla slapped her arm playfully. “Next, we search.”
*
“Petunia!” Layla sang sweetly as she and Alanna walked down the sidewalk of their mother’s neighborhood. “Here kitty, kitty, kittttty.” Layla’s braid swung like a metronome, brushing along the back of her hips with each step. Today she wore a long, short-sleeved white blouse cinched with a wide red plastic red belt and leopard print leggings that ended in sensible sneakers. Sometimes Alanna wondered if her sister closed her eyes, spun around in a circle 10 times in front of her closet, then wore whatever random article of clothing she pointed at.
Alanna shook the thought away. Layla was out here helping her. The last thing Alanna should be doing is playing fashion police with her free-spirited sister. Dimly, she heard her mother’s voice rising in the distance. Their mom had taken the day off work, and Layla had dispatched her to walk in the opposite direction and search the other side of the neighborhood.
“Petunia,” Alanna called half-heartedly. What was the point of this farce? When did any cat in the known universe ever respond to their name?
The March day was warm, but a soft breeze eased the heat. Newcomers often assumed every day in Southern California was identical—clear skies and 75 degrees for eternity—but lifetime residents like Alanna knew the difference. The sun in spring was gentler, the plant life green and healthy from the winter rains.
Still feeling a little shame for judging her sister’s, uh, exuberant clothing choices, Alanna turned to Layla.
“Thanks for coming out with me,” she said, feeling weirdly shy. “For helping me find Petunia.”
“Of course,” Layla answered as if there was no question she’d take a day off work and put her heart and soul into helping her sister.
Because there was no question. Layla always put others before herself. Her kindness was her superpower. Sometimes Alanna seriously wondered how the two of them had emerged from the same womb. Too often she dismissed her sister or felt annoyed by Layla’s endless optimism in the face of this dumpster-fire reality. In the deepest layers of her heart, however, Alanna knew how lucky she was to have her sister in her life. Layla was her sunlight, her unflagging beacon of hope.
“Are you sure you don’t want to switch into tennis shoes?” Layla asked, pulling Alanna’s attention back to the present.
“These are fine,” she retorted. Her red Gucci wedges went perfectly with her white high-waisted Brunello Cucinelli crop pants and multicolored Chloé short-sleeved blouse.
Layla shrugged, but Alanna caught a look in her sister’s eyes that seemed to say,We’ll see.Instead of sharing that thought, Layla switched topics.
