25. Chapter 25 #3
A familiar voice cuts through our stunned silence.
“Is there a reason you’re shouting profanities at my adoption fair, Sarah?
” Beatrix appears beside us, clipboard in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose.
Her gaze travels from Sarah’s defensive stance to Julian’s careful neutrality to my obvious confusion.
“There are children here with sensitive dispositions.”
“Sorry, Beatrix.” Sarah has the grace to look abashed. “I was expressing my concerns about Mr. Plaza’s unexpected visit.”
“Loudly,” Beatrix observes dryly. “And with vocabulary that would make Buttons crinkle his nose.”
“And mine!” Leo shouts. I walk the few feet to Leo and place my hand on his head.
“I apologize for the disruption,” Julian says, turning to Beatrix with what appears to be genuine respect.
Beatrix studies him. “I’ve only seen good things so far. Keep it up.”
Sarah’s mouth actually drops open.
“O’Malley, close your mouth before flies get in,” Beatrix says. “And show Mr. Plaza where the truck is parked. You were complaining about having to move those bags yourself ten minutes ago.”
Sarah looks like she’s been asked to escort a bank robber to the vault. “Fine,” she says after a beat. “But I’m watching you, Plaza.”
“I would expect nothing less, O’Malley,” Julian replies, the ghost of that unfamiliar smile still playing around his mouth.
As they walk away, Julian pauses briefly beside me. “You and the kids will be okay?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “We’re fine.”
He nods, looking relieved and disappointed simultaneously. Then he follows Sarah toward the parking lot, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Twenty minutes later, I’m helping another potential adopter fill out paperwork for a beautiful tuxedo when Sarah reappears at my elbow.
“Your estranged hubby carried twelve forty-pound bags of cat litter without complaining,” she reports, sounding personally offended by this development. “And he asked semi-intelligent questions about the shelter’s intake process.”
“Maybe he’s been body-snatched,” I suggest with a joking gasp.
“I asked him that.” Sarah’s eyes narrow. “He said aliens rejected him for being too uptight, but they’re reconsidering after he offered to reorganize their ship.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. Julian making self-deprecating jokes? Julian acknowledging his own rigid personality? It would be great if Julian finally understood that while he may prefer to do things certain ways—i.e. rigidly—there are other ways.
The adoption fair continues, busier than expected for a Thursday afternoon.
I lose track of Julian for a while as I help match families with pets and explain the adoption process to newcomers.
Leo stays close to his gray tabby friend, proudly telling visitors about the cat’s progress.
Meredith appoints herself “kitten ambassador,” introducing Pepper to anyone who will listen.
I don’t think she realizes Pepper is unlikely to get adopted while in her arms.
As the fair winds down and visitors thin out, Sarah and I begin packing up the information pamphlets and adoption forms. Julian approaches, carrying a cat carrier that contains a sleeping orange tabby.
“Where does this one go?” he asks, holding out the carrier as far away from his body as possible.
“My truck,” Sarah replies. “He’s going to the vet.”
“Good. Thing has been sneezing non-stop. I was seconds from contacting the CDC.”
We head toward Sarah’s truck together. She’s leaving for the vet immediately, and since Julian is effectively under my supervision, I’m not taking any chances.
I need to make sure he doesn’t step into the path of a car when the gravel dust kicks up, or worse, fumbles the carrier if the cat sneezes.
Luckily, Beatrix is sending our last dog off to its new family, so I’ll have backup if needed.
Sarah climbs into her truck with a final warning to Julian about showing up uninvited again. This one lacks her earlier venom, but the message is clear as he turns to me in the driveway.
“The children enjoyed themselves today,” he says, carefully neutral. “Leo mentioned the next adoption fair is in three months. I could help again, if that wouldn’t be intrusive. Maybe plan ahead this time?”
Beatrix must have heard him because she says, “That won’t be necessary.
” I cock my head to the side, surprised, considering Julian has done exceptionally well today.
Meanwhile, Julian sighs. “If the grant is approved, Elowen will have her hands busy as the director of the cat sanctuary. I assume she’d want to host her own adoption fairs and will need all the volunteers at her own location she can get. ”
“Really?” I ask. “You mean it? I’ll be a director?”
“Well, Sarah has a full-time job, and I’m getting too old to commute between two different places. You fit right in, Elowen.” She pauses. “Though I suppose you’ll need a salary.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure when Julian and I divorce, my alimony will be more than enough to live on. Right, Julian?” I don’t ask him to be cruel, but to gauge if he is going to fight the idea of alimony.
Surprisingly, he makes this choked noise in his throat before avoiding my eyes. It pains him. “Yes, Elowen,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want, you’ll have.”
“Nonsense,” Beatrix says. “Formulating a cat sanctuary from scratch is no easy feat. You deserve to get paid for your work. Granted, it won’t be a lot, but it’ll be something, at least.”
I shake her hand. “Deal. Twenty percent below market. For the cats.”
“For the cats,” she mumbles.