Oh, for the love of catnip, kiss her. Ambrose watched from the end of the hallway. What was wrong with Zach anyway? He wanted this woman. It was so obvious even a dog could see it. Zach had scared off his rival and somehow lured Merilee back here, but instead of doing what he'd been made to do the stupid man was still acting like he'd been neutered.

He flicked his tail irritably as he watched Zach walk Merilee out of the house. Talk about a lost opportunity. At least a cat had nine lives to get things right. Humans got only one, and Zach was sure wasting his.

And that was not good, because someone else's life depended on Zach getting smart, someone's ninth and final life. Ambrose trotted anxiously back to the room where Zach had stowed their surprise visitor.

And what a wonderful surprise! That little white face peering out of the cage-he'd looked into those eyes and seen right into her soul.

He stood on his hind legs and scratched at the door. Aphrodite, can you hear me?

An indignant response drifted back to him. Get lost, Blackie, you beast!

Of course, what else would she think him? One moment they'd been mating and the next he'd been gone for good.

You left without so much as a meow good-bye.

He'd meant to come back. He'd planned to come back ... until that horrible Blair Baby had taken him out with her car and her cell phone. That had been the end of both his sixth life and his first and only great love.

Aphrodite, I couldn't help it. I was. .h.i.t by a car.

Silence.

I'll make it up to you.

More silence. Ambrose sat down and flicked his tail. Humans. Look how they messed things up for everyone else!

Merilee arrived to pick up Queenie promptly at nine the next morning.

"Oh, I didn't even think of bringing over her cat box," she said as she followed Zach into the laundry room where he'd outfitted Queenie with her own food, water bowl, and litter box. What a dork to forget something so basic. But with Mrs. Winnamucker breathing down her neck she hadn't thought much of anything except that she needed help and Zach was just the man to give her what she needed.

"I had one, so no big deal," he said. "I got it for Tom but he's been using his cat door and going outside." Queenie was enthroned on a pile of laundry sitting on top of the dryer. He picked her up and she draped herself over his shoulder and started purring. "She's a sweet cat," he said, stroking the animal's back.

Tom had slipped into the laundry room now and was looking up with interest at their guest. He meowed and, when Zach ignored him, stood on his hind legs and almost clawed at Zach's pants.

"I guess they would have gotten along fine," Merilee said with a smile.

"Sorry, dude," said Zach. "She's going to find a new home."

"I hope so," Merilee said. "I just can't stand to think of her being destroyed."

Tom jumped up onto the dryer and yowled.

"Looks like he can't either," Zach said. "Don't worry, dude. We'll save her."

He put Queenie's cat carrier on top of the washer. Merilee opened the carrier door and Zach gently put the cat inside. She meowed pitifully as the door shut behind her.

Merilee sighed.

"Are you sure you don't want some moral support?" he offered as he walked her to her car.

"I'm sure." Tempted as she was to simply hand over her problem to him, she'd already asked enough of him. Anyway, she could handle this. She opened the car door and Zach settled Queenie on the backseat.

"Tell the guy he'd better let you keep the cat or I'll come beat him with a fire hose."

She smiled. "I might just do that." Then she sobered. "Thank you for helping me out last night."

"I was glad to do it," he said. "You've got my cell number. Let me know how it turns out."

What if it didn't turn out well? Would he really want to know? She didn't even want to think about what she'd do if her plan didn't work. She nodded and slid in behind the wheel.

"Go get 'em," he said, and shut her door for her.

Go get 'em, her new mantra. She set her jaw and started the car.

Ten minutes later she was carrying Queenie into a small two-story office building on Angel Way. The bottom story housed a lawyer, a family therapist, and a yoga salon. The entire upper story belonged to Falls Property Management, which belonged to Mr. Richard Mook. She stepped inside the elevator and pushed the b.u.t.ton for the second floor. Normally, she'd have simply walked up the stairs, but her heart was already beating so fast she was sure if she did she'd have a heart attack halfway up.

The elevator stopped with a b.u.mp and the door slid open to reveal a landing covered with new carpet. Directly in front of her was a door with a copper plate engraved with FALLS PROPERTY MANAGEMENT. She took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the cat carrier, and pushed open the door.

Inside the office she found a reception area holding a sleek leather couch and two matching chairs, a coffee table, a giant pot bearing some sort of palm, and a reception desk. At the desk sat a svelte, middle-aged woman with short salt-and-pepper hair wearing a stylish black suit and crisp white blouse. She smiled at Merilee and asked how she could help her.

"I need to see Mr. Mook," Merilee said.

"Do you have an appointment?" The woman eyed the cat carrier warily.

Merilee shook her head. "There wasn't time to make an appointment. It's an emergency. At one of his properties," she added.

The woman's eyebrows shot up. "What did you say your name was?"

"Merilee White."

The woman looked like she'd just swallowed vinegar. "I'm not sure he's available right now."

Obviously, Mrs. Winnamucker the tattletale had been busy this morning. "I'll wait until he is," Merilee said. She took a seat on the couch and set the cat carrier next to her. Queenie yowled.

Merilee wasn't sure whether it was her determined tone of voice or Queenie's crying that motivated the woman to vanish behind an oak door into the nether regions of the office but she didn't care. She sat back with a satisfied smile. "Maybe Mr. Mook is available after all," she told Queenie.

A moment later the woman was back. "I'm afraid Mr. Mook has a very full schedule."

Merilee's confidence vanished. Her heavy heart made it difficult to stand up and she got to her feet slowly. She'd lost the fight before she'd even gotten in the ring.

Queenie let out a yowl. Help me!

She couldn't give up. Queenie was depending on her. She raised her chin and drew back her shoulders. "I won't take more than five minutes of his time. Surely he could give five minutes to someone whose monthly rental check helps keep him in business. Or is he too big of a Scrooge?"

The woman blinked, then frowned.

Merilee sat back down. "I'll wait."

With a look of disgust the woman disappeared behind the door again.

Merilee's heart went into overdrive once more. You can do this, she told herself.

The woman returned, still looking disgusted, but she said, "Mr. Mook has a few minutes right now."

Merilee picked up Queenie and sailed past her through the door.

The inner sanctum held a large bookcase full of business tomes, another potted plant, a couple of lamps, a putting matt and golf club in one corner, a huge filing cabinet, and, dead ahead, a large mahogany desk sporting a laptop computer. Behind the desk sat a tall lean man as bald as Mr. Clean. He had sharp blue eyes, a pinched nose, and thin lips pressed together so tightly they looked more like a slash in a child's drawing than a real human mouth. He didn't exactly appear welcoming.

Merilee had thought her heart was beating fast before she came in here. That was nothing. Now it was banging around in her rib cage so hard she thought she might break a rib.

She swallowed. All her carefully rehea.r.s.ed words fled from her mind and she clutched the cat carrier like a lifeline while casting about frantically for something to say.

Mr. Mook beat her to the punch. "Have a seat, Miss White. I understand from the apartment manager that you have a problem with our pet policy."

She nodded and slipped onto a big leather chair in front of the desk, setting Queenie's carrier on the floor. Say something, she told herself, but her mouth refused to cooperate.

"I hope you weren't coming here expecting us to change that," he continued.

It was now or never. "Actually, I was. It's unfair."

"Oh? To whom?"

"To your renters. And, I might add, that policy went into effect right after I signed my lease. I should be grandfathered in."

He raised an eyebrow. "And how long have you been a renter at the Angel Arms?"

"Ten months."

"Ten months. You didn't protest when you were told of the change in policy. You have, in fact, said nothing all along. In fact, I suspect the only reason you're saying something now is because you've been caught flagrantly disobeying the rules."

Merilee had never been the kind of child who got sent to the princ.i.p.al's office. Now she knew how it felt. She could feel her cheeks flaming and her tummy began juggling her breakfast, but she forced herself to speak calmly. "That was only temporary, until I could find a home for this cat." Wait until he saw Queenie. He'd understand. She started to open the cat carrier.

"Don't take the animal out, please," he said, holding up a hand.

So, he didn't want to see the victim of his callous policy. Would it make him uncomfortable? Hmmm. That meant he had a heart, probably one as thin as the rest of him, but a heart nonetheless. She took hope and her tummy stopped the juggling act.

He looked at his watch. "I'm afraid I have work to do, Miss White, so let's wrap up this visit, shall we? Mrs. Winnamucker tells me that, other than this one slip, you've been a reliable renter. So, if you would like to stay on at the Angel Arms-"

"I would, but I'd like you to consider changing your policy." Merilee's rehea.r.s.ed speech came to her in a rush. "Mr. Mook, you're a businessman, so consider this from a business standpoint. Pet owners make good renters. They're responsible people who love their animals. They're willing to pay extra for the privilege of keeping their pets, so any damages could easily be covered. And, as a rule they stay longer since there are so few options for them."

"And do you know why there are so few options?" retorted Mr. Mook. "It's because most landlords have learned firsthand how much damage animals can do. Not all pet owners are responsible. I have rented to pet owners in the past, Miss White. I don't anymore for the simple reason that I got tired of cleaning up the messes they left behind. Dogs chew, cats ruin drapes. And although I've tried many products over the years I have learned that cat urine is close to impossible to get out of carpets. Dealing with that kind of destruction adds up to considerable expense and aggravation, so I have no intention of changing my policy."

"Not even to save a life?" In a bold move, Merilee set the cat carrier on Mr. Mook's desk. "Look at this sweet little kitty. She's litter box trained and well-behaved."

"Then I'm sure, if you take her to the animal shelter, she'll find a home," he said with a sickeningly pleasant smile.

This man did not get it. "People are too busy getting ready for the holidays. If I take her to the shelter she'll be destroyed."

He shrugged and made a what-can-I-do face. "I'm sorry for that, but in the end it's not my problem. My job is to provide housing. For people. Which is what I have done for you, and at a reasonable rate. I wish you the best of luck finding a home for the cat, but that is what you're going to have to do if you want to remain with us." Again, he looked at his watch. "Now, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

Inspiration came to Merilee like a gift from Santa. "Fine. I'll leave." She turned and started for the door.

"You forgot your cat," Mr. Mook said.

Merilee stopped and looked over her shoulder. "No, I didn't. I'm giving her to you. You can be responsible for taking this cat to the animal shelter just two days before Christmas."

She resumed her march for the door.

"Then I'll have my secretary deliver it today."

Merilee turned to see him removing the cat carrier from his desk. He set it on the floor with a careless thump.

He would. He actually would. Merilee dashed back and retrieved Queenie. "You have no heart."

He wasn't even remotely bothered by her scathing words. He merely shook his head. "And you have no common sense. But if you want to remain in your apartment I hope you'll find some and get rid of that animal. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll have to find a new place to live."

"Don't worry," Merilee growled. "I won't be staying in your apartment any longer than necessary." She yanked the office door open. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Mook. If, after this, you can manage to have one."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Miss White," he said as if they'd just met for a cup of coffee.

She managed to keep her head high as she left but by the time she reached her car she was crying. "Queenie, I'm so sorry."

A freezing rain began to pelt the windshield and Merilee could imagine the angels looking down from those fat gray clouds and weeping. A sweet kitty like Queenie going homeless or being destroyed-it wasn't right.

What now? No matter what Merilee decided one of them was going to be homeless.

"We're not going to give up," she told Queenie. "We'll get you all dolled up with a red ribbon and stand outside Safeway and show you off. Someone's bound to want you." Maybe. Hopefully.

Her favorite radio station was on holiday overload and Burl Ives was currently wishing her a holly jolly Christmas. She punched Burl into silence, switching instead to the local talk station.

The voice of Mandy Day greeted her. "Today we're talking about fabulous last-minute gift ideas. What's yours? Call us at 888-206-TALK."

Queenie let out a plaintive meow from her cat carrier. The message couldn't have been clearer if the cat had miraculously spoken English.

"I'm on it," Merilee said. She swerved onto the shoulder of the road and grabbed her cell phone from her purse.

TWELVE.

Zach was just finishing painting his bathroom and wondering what was going on with Merilee when Mom called. Thank G.o.d for caller ID. He let it roll over to voicemail.