Chapter Two
“Runaway cat!” Claire Brewer rallied her volunteers as she juggled two broken cat carriers.
Seizing its moment, one of the injured cats she’d rescued had burst out of its wonky carrier and now huddled near the wall of the sanctuary. The poor thing hissed any time one of the volunteers tried to get near it.
After gently setting the carriers on the ground, Claire pulled out a few cat treats from her pocket and sidled closer to the feline. “It’s okay, baby,” she crooned. “I’m know you’re scared, and I can see your back paw is hurting you. We’re going to make you feel better, I promise.”
Moving slowly, she made herself small by crouching, and neared the animal. When she was just a few feet away, she opened her hand and displayed the treats.
Hungry, the cat issued a pathetic meow.
As she inched closer, her volunteer David crept up behind the cat, armed with a blanket. Claire had faith that David would save the day. He was twice her age, but nimble, and he’d wrangled hundreds of cats in his time.
Although the cat was fully aware of the hulking man at its ass, its need for food won out. It hobbled toward Claire and her treats. Claire placed a few on the ground in front of the cat, and as it gobbled them down, David swooped in with his blanket and swaddled the ball of matted fluff.
She breathed a sigh of relief. The Haven Cat Sanctuary was surrounded by open fields, and if the injured kitty had run, they would have lost it in the tall grasses. With its bad leg, the little thing wouldn’t have made it far before becoming prey to a hawk.
“Awesome work, David. You should be in charge of this place,” Claire kidded.
“Don’t I know it?” David replied, tossing his head as he walked past. “Quick, someone tell the poor, overworked owner. Oh, wait. That’s you.”
As he marched the cat into the sanctuary, Claire ignored the gentle dig. David and the other volunteers were always telling her she needed to delegate more.
They weren’t wrong.
The other volunteers headed into the sanctuary office, and she took a moment to breathe. Alone, she looked to the sky. “Well, Arthur, another successful rescue. That was the last of a dozen cats from the same property. You would have been proud of me today, of all of us.”
Arthur had hated hoarding situations just as much as she did.
Her eyes burned, but she blinked until they stopped stinging. It had become part of her routine now, offering up a little update to Arthur each time they rescued a new cat. She liked to think he still watched over everything at Haven.
Mostly, she liked to think he still watched over her.
As the familiar cloud gathered in her head, she banished it. “Let’s go, girl. Too much to do today. No time for moping.”
As she walked into the main building of the sanctuary, a spacious ranch-style building comprised of a reception area, offices, kennels and examination rooms, Claire ran through the list of things she needed to address today.
A leaky faucet in exam room two, a washer and dryer that needed replacing and water damage in her office.
Of course, she couldn’t address any of those things until her sister Mia gave her the go-ahead.
Mia, a financial advisor and one of the many volunteers who helped Claire keep the place afloat, was going through the books right now.
Although Claire always had items on her sanctuary wish list, she rarely purchased them unless Mia agreed they were doable.
Claire checked on their new arrivals in the room they used to quarantine new cats.
Once they got a clean bill of health, they would be moved to the large room everyone affectionately called the B&B.
Consisting of numerous two-level caged ‘suites’, each furnished with a bed, blanket, cat toys, food and water bowls and a litter box, the room looked out over the back yard.
It was filled with light on sunny days, making it ideal for kitty lounging.
There were plants to give it an air of the outdoors, and a six-foot-wide fish tank stood sentry in the middle of the room.
The cats loved watching the fish dart around the tank.
David had already found kennels for the new cats, and they were all busy sniffing their surroundings. He was just getting the cat with the sore leg situated, but he didn’t look as if he’d emerged unscathed. As he shut the kennel door, he rubbed his arm.
“Has she left her mark on you?” asked Claire.
“Yup. A nasty scratch.”
“Ooh.” Claire handed him a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a package of cotton pads. She then held out her own arm, permanently scarred in several places by cat scratches. “I prefer to think of them as badges of honor.”
“You’re stronger than I am.”
“We’ll see how strong I am after I talk to Mia. Mama needs a new washer and dryer.” Claire peered at the injured cat. “Could you give Adele a call and see if she’s on her way? I don’t like the look of that paw.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Hey, baby girl.” Claire stuck a finger through the kennel.
The cat lifted its head to sniff her, but stayed in its corner.
She might recognize her as the human who gave her treats, but she had to be scared now that she was locked in the kennel.
“We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay? You’re in a safe place now.”
Her best friend, Adele Sanchez, was the on-call vet for Haven. She typically swung by once a week, but rescues from hoarders often brought her out sooner. It was important to act quickly due to some of the health issues that often resulted from those situations.
Claire headed into the back office, where her sister was frowning at the computer. “It smells like damp in here, Claire,” said Mia.
“That’s because it is damp. Don’t touch the walls. They’ll disintegrate.”
Mia indicated the threadbare chair opposite the desk. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”
Claire dropped into the chair that had once sat in Arthur’s bachelor pad. She ran her fingers along the bare armrests. “I guess that means I don’t get my new washer and dryer.”
“Claire, you know I’m on your side, but it’s time for some tough love.
” Mia rolled her chair around the desk so she sat directly in front of Claire.
She reached for her sister’s hand. “Your financial situation is precarious at best. As far as I can tell, you can maybe keep this place afloat for another few months, tops, and that’s only if half the cats get suddenly adopted. ”
Claire tried to swallow past the sour ball of disappointment in her esophagus. She understood her own finances, but hearing someone else say it made it real.
“There’s just not enough money coming in.”
“I know. The results of the last fundraising campaign were…discouraging.”
“Things are hard everywhere. No matter how much good you do, cat sanctuaries just aren’t a priority for many people.”
Claire almost laughed out loud. Most people didn’t think twice about buying animals from pet stores and puppy mills, but once they realized what was involved in taking care of a pet, some abandoned them.
Then they ended up in a place like Haven, where they became someone else’s problem, on someone else’s dime.
Claire was running out of dimes.
“I could lend you some money,” said Mia.
“I appreciate it, I really do, but I can’t accept it. I won’t.” Mia had a little boy, and there was no chance Claire was going to take money away from her nephew.
“Then I’m going to ask you one last time. Please sell the sanctuary. You’d make a mint on this property.”
“So some greedy developer can get his hands on it and turn it into condos? No.” The sanctuary was nestled in a rural area about forty minutes from Toronto.
Although legislation had been passed years ago to protect the green space, or Greenbelt, from urban sprawl, it didn’t mean developers didn’t still covet the properties nearby.
Even in the short time Claire had lived in the area, she’d seen it change.
Housing encroached on so many of the open spaces that used to be farmers’ fields.
“You sound just like Arthur.”
“Is it any wonder?”
“Claire, I admire you for keeping Arthur’s vision alive, but he’s gone. He wouldn’t blame you for moving on.”
“I have moved on, but Haven is important to me.”
“But this was never your dream. You’re only thirty-three years old. You can still make your dream a reality. Remember how you were going to be a photographer and travel the world?”
“My dream,” she began, closing her mouth when she realized she’d given up on it long ago. “My dream…can wait. I won’t let this business fold, Mia, not on my watch. It’s Arthur’s legacy.”
“And you did right by him. You kept it going for a long time, but you’re working yourself to the bone. When was the last time you had a break? A vacation? Hell, even a day to yourself? You work from morning until night and you fall asleep in your clothes.”
“But—”
“Don’t even try to argue with me. I found you asleep at your desk again just last week. It’s not healthy.”
“I won’t give up on the business, and I won’t give up on the cats. Until they get adopted out, they have no one but us.”
“Then you need to start accepting some help,” said Mia. “I know you’ve always had a problem with that, but it’s time.”
“I do have help. The volunteers are incredible.”
“I’m not talking about the volunteers. I mean real assistance.”
“Such as?”
Mia released her sister’s hand and sat back in her chair. “So…I did something.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“I filled in this application on your behalf a few months ago. I didn’t really think it would go anywhere. It was mostly just a lark.”
“Mia. You’re making me nervous.”
“It’s nothing terrible. Actually, it’s really cool. The application was for the Handymen show.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know, Handymen. Those cute Zorn brothers, the guys who come to people’s houses and help them renovate.”
Claire was aware of Handymen. It was one of the few TV shows she watched.
She always caught the reruns late at night, just before she fell into bed.
She was especially aware of Nick Zorn and his cheeky grin.
In fact, his handsome face had infiltrated a couple of her dreams. “I know the show. I just don’t see what it has to do with me. ”
“I got an email back this week, and I’ve been sitting on it because I wasn’t sure what you’d think.” Mia beamed. “They want to have you on the show, like, right away.”
“What?”
“The team from Handymen wants to help you renovate Haven. Isn’t that amazing?”
“But…but I don’t need help. This place doesn’t need renovations. It just needs a little kickstart and cat food. Lots of cat food.”
“Claire, if I touch your office wall, I’ll put a hole in it!”
Claire couldn’t argue there.
“Look,” said Mia. “If it was up to me, I’d still sell the place and start fresh.
But if that’s not an option, then I think the Handymen appearance is your only hope of saving this place.
They’ll help you fix all the things that are falling apart around here, so you can invest in the business.
And think of the exposure! You might get some new donors out of this. ”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t want a TV crew swanning in here, changing everything around.” Her eyes stung. “It’s all I have left of him.”
“Oh, sweetie, don’t you see? I think they might just be able to help you keep a piece of Arthur alive.”
Claire grabbed a tissue from the desk and blew her nose to pre-empt any errant tears. She blinked a few times and once again dismissed her emotions.
“Well?” asked Mia. “Should I call them back and tell them you’re interested?”
Claire got up and walked around to the other side of the room.
On the office windowsill, there was a framed photo of her and Arthur, hugging each other outside the sanctuary entrance, her long dark hair meshed with his unruly blond locks.
They’d been such opposites, and not just in looks.
He’d been a flower child inside and out, never concerned about money, ready with a hug for everyone.
Claire had always been more reserved, more suspicious of people and their agendas.
Arthur had tried desperately to get her to ‘loosen up’.
She’d adored him for his sense of adventure and gaiety, and she missed his belly laughs.
When was the last time she’d laughed? A really good, from-the-gut laugh. She couldn’t remember.
She touched his face in the photo, admiring the faint lines around his blue eyes.
She wouldn’t let his dream die, even if it meant she had to put up with the invasion of a TV crew.
Claire set the frame back on the windowsill. “Tell Handymen I’m ready when they are.”