Kaylee was laughing out loud at the memory, but tears were running down her cheeks as well. When she thought of Meredith, that sort of thing happened. So many good times, lost.

“Oh, Jesus,” she muttered, wiping her cheeks.

She remembered that Mel said something about grief never getting smaller but how her world could get bigger. She wasn’t sure how that was done, but it was time to try. After she considered it for a few minutes she slid her laptop into her shoulder bag and headed for her car. She’d drive into Virgin River, which you could miss if you blinked, maybe have another coffee and whatever breakfast sandwich Jack offered. She’d try to write at the bar for an hour. Before her mom got sick Kaylee used to go to a coffee shop or a neighborhood restaurant called Carlisle’s where she could have a glass of wine and a New York–style pizza slice. She felt less like she was in detention if she wrote for a while in a coffee shop or bar.

As she walked to her car she heard the smallest peep and slowed her steps. She looked up first. Then down. Right there by her front tire was the tiniest black-and-white kitten. What was a person to do? She scooped it up in her hands and instinctively held it close to her cheek. “Aww. You are lost, little one.” She wasted a good ten minutes looking around for more kittens or at least a mother, but this guy was alone.

And then she did the one thing everyone cautioned against. She took him into her casita and gave him a bowl of milk and told him she’d be back in an hour or so.

* * *

“Well, well, Kaylee Sloan, just the person I wanted to see. I was going to give you a call a little later,” Jack said as she walked in the door.

“Do you need the casita sooner?” she asked.

“Nah, you’re fine. But I talked to an agent who leases rentals. Her name is Gloria, very nice lady, and she’s going to see what they have. I gave her your number. She’ll probably be calling soon.”

“Oh, thank you! Um, did you lose a kitten?”

“A kitten? No. A kitten?” he repeated.

“Cutest thing, all by himself. Or herself. I don’t know much about cats.”

“How big is this kitten?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“He could fit in a cup,” she said. “Black and white.”

“There are feral cats around, but we have a dog. And with the wildlife in the mountains, kittens without a mother don’t survive long and if they do, they’re fighting cats. Where is it?”

“In the casita,” she said. “I couldn’t leave it alone. You have a dog?”

Jack nodded. “Ralph. He’s a border collie. My son found him under the Christmas tree we put up in town every year so we had to keep him. He’s kind of lazy but he’d probably try to herd a kitten. He’s still herding us into the kitchen whenever he can.”

“I never saw a dog,” she said nervously. “I’m a little wary around dogs. I was bitten when I was a child. Pretty badly. Badly enough to set up a good-size phobia.”

“Ralph won’t bite you. He stays close to David, my son. Besides, Ralph’s partying days are over. Did you, um, feed that stray kitten?”

“No. I just gave him some milk and left him in the casita so he wouldn’t get hurt or lost.”

“You fed him. And what are you going to do with him now?”

“There must be a no-kill shelter around here somewhere,” she said.

“Nah, you should keep him. You two need each other.”

“I’ve never had a cat...”

“I hear cats are easy. Sometimes they’re independent and couldn’t give a shit about you, but some people claim to have very affectionate cats. And he or she’s a baby. That should give you an edge. Plus, you fed him—that’s commitment in his eyes. There’s a pet store in Clear River where you can get some supplies. I’ll give you directions.”

“I won’t even know what to buy!”

“It’s a pet store,” Jack repeated. “Tell them you don’t know what to buy and they’ll load you up. How was the casita? You sleep okay?”

“It was very nice, thank you,” she said in a somewhat frustrated tone. Had he just sold her a kitten? “Do you have some kind of breakfast sandwich? And coffee?”

“You bet. Preacher’s in the kitchen. What do you want on it?”

“Sausage, egg and cheese, please.”

“Sounds easy. Stay tuned.” He turned and went to the kitchen. A moment, and only a moment later, he placed before her a perfect sandwich, cut on the diagonal, with some home fries and a tomato slice on the side. “Anything else? Ranch? Mayo? Ketchup?”

“Cholula hot sauce?”

“A girl after my own heart,” he said, producing the desired hot sauce. Next came a mug of coffee and an ice water. “Be careful, now,” he said. “After a couple of Preacher’s meals, you’ll never cook for yourself again.”

She added her sauce, took a bite and let her eyelids drop in heavenly wonder. It was fabulous. “There are onions and peppers in here,” she said. “Brilliant!”

Before she finished the first half, the magic that was Jack’s Bar began to happen. People wandered in, recognized her as the girl from the fire, introduced themselves and tried to think of a house she could rent. She met Connie from the store across the street, Tom Cavanaugh from a local orchard, Jillian, who ran a small farm of specialty fruits and vegetables, Luke Riordan, who owned some cabins on the river, and Dr. Michaels, who worked with Mel. They all mentioned other neighbors and in no time at all she felt she’d met or heard about everyone in the town. When she finished her breakfast, she dabbed her lips and pushed her plate away. “I was going to see if I could write for a little while, but I think I have to go to the pet store.”

“Congratulations,” Jack said with a grin. “You’re a kitty mother.”

“I haven’t decided I’m going to keep him,” she said.

“But why not? Everyone needs a companion. Especially a writer. So, what kind of stuff do you write?”

“Well, mysteries. Scary mysteries.”

“Are you famous?”

She paused before giving her standard answer. Only to my mother. “Hardly anyone knows me. Thanks, Jack. That was absolutely great.”

“I’m hoping you’ll be a regular,” he said.

She gave him some money and he gave her directions written on a napkin. “Try not to find any more kittens. My daughter is almost six. Very vulnerable to small, cute animals.”

“I’ll keep my eyes closed,” she said with a laugh.

And she thought, In eight months nothing has changed and suddenly, in one day, I feel like life could be interesting again.

* * *

Kaylee had never had a pet. When she was quite small it was because her parents worked and there was no time to take care of a pet. When she was six, not long after her father left them, she got that nasty dog bite. He was just some wayward dog loose in the park and of all the children there, he bit Kaylee. That eliminated the puppy notion, plus there was even one fewer person to take care of a pet. Her mother liked cats but when she was around Grandma’s cats, her sinuses plugged up and she sneezed a lot. Grandma had to put the cats in a room when they visited, but that didn’t help too much because the dander was everywhere.

Kaylee had a girlfriend who had two cats—one was sweet and cuddly and the other one seemed to think she was leasing her space to the humans. Her friend’s cats didn’t bother her sinuses at all, so that was one issue she wasn’t worried about. But because of her closeness with her mother, a cat as a companion had never occurred to her.

“So, I found a kitten,” she said at the pet store.

“How old?”

“I have no idea,” she said. And she made her hands into a small cup.

“Boy or girl?”

“I also have no idea,” she said.

“It’s a little hard to tell when they’re babies, but... Well, you better see the vet right away—it might need formula. You’ll want to have it neutered because if you don’t, you’ll have a batch of new kittens before you can say ‘here-kitty-kitty.’ Now, what do you need?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

An hour later she was on her way back to Virgin River with the back of her SUV full of supplies from kitty litter and food to a scratching post. She had a cat carrier so she could take the kitten to the vet. And once she got back, she spent the better part of an hour on her hands and knees looking everywhere for that kitten. She called for it over and over, but there wasn’t a sound. She was just about to give up when she pulled her head out from under the bed and something landed splat on her head, claws bared. And she screamed as if someone had come after her with a bloody knife.

She held on to the kitten with one hand and ran her fingers through her hair with the other, fully expecting to find blood. “You’re an evil little thing, aren’t you?” she said to the kitten.

Ah, but she had a sweet face. Or he did. She turned the cat over and gave it a close look-see. She thought it must be a girl, but she wasn’t completely sure. She decided she hoped it was a girl and she pressed her face into her soft black-and-white fur. And the kitten bit her nose. “Jesus!” she swore. “Maybe that means you’re hungry. Or maybe you’re just plain mean! My luck. I hear there’s a no-kill shelter nearby so watch it!”

Then she put out the pan and kitty litter, having no confidence at all that would work. She opened a can of food and put out a bowl of water. To her surprise, the kitten went right to it. Kaylee crouched down to get a better look at the kitten’s delicate bites and heard a little purr. “Aww,” she said, giving the kitty a stroke.

When the kitten was done eating, Kaylee placed her carefully in the litter pan, hoping for the best. The saleswoman at the pet store said, “It’s going to take quite a few tries but eventually she’ll do her business in the litter box because cats prefer that—they like to bury the evidence.”