She nodded. "It's always great news when young people find their soulmates. And here's the thing you need to keep in mind, son. That bachelor auction is like an intersection in the ebb and flow of the universe. It's like creating a point in time where we can help the Lord along by shoving things in the right direction. Sort of like a s...o...b..ll rolling downhill. Not that I've ever seen any appreciable amount of snow, mind you."

"Right. The Lord," Mike said as if he agreed. In truth, his rational mind scoffed at the idea. Still, Mrs. Randall had given him enough advice to formulate a rational plan. Step one would be to get Tim to volunteer for this auction. Step two would be to convince Charlene to buy Tim.

With Mrs. Randall's endors.e.m.e.nt of this plan, Mike had a shot at overcoming Tim and Charlene's natural resistance. Better yet, the Altar Guild would embrace this plan with both arms.

And hadn't Timmy said those women could move mountains?

"Thank you," he said with a little nod. "Your advice has been invaluable. What do I owe you for this consultation?"

She snorted a laugh. "Honey, my consultations are free. I'm only doing what the Lord wants me to do. It wouldn't be right to take money for it." Her dark eyes sparked with something. Was it amus.e.m.e.nt? He found her face impossible to read.

She leaned forward and patted his hand where it rested on the arm of his rocker. "You'll figure it out, son. You just need to remember that love is one of the safest bets you can make. Even when the odds appear to be a million to one."

Angel pulled his Jeep into the parking lot behind the Last Chance Knit & St.i.tch. The Purly Girls, the senior charity knitting group, met every Tuesday afternoon at the shop, and Simon's mother, Charlotte Wolfe, was an avid knitter. Angel's job required him to meet her at the shop and take her home afterward.

He usually got there on the early side in order to help Pat Canaday, the shop's owner, with the old ladies who were members of the Purly Girls. Since he loved to knit, he really enjoyed Purly Girl meetings.

He had just gotten out of his SUV when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID before he pushed the talk b.u.t.ton. "Hi, Charlene."

"Hey," she said. Charlene's voice sounded shaky. Like maybe she had been crying.

"Que pasa?"

"I spoke with Dave, and he's okay with being in the auction."

Oh, my G.o.d. Why had she done that? Poor Dr. Dave. "He agreed?" Angel asked.

Charlene was quiet for a long time before she spoke again. "Of course he did, but he doesn't want me to bid on him, though. He thinks it would be improper since he's my boss."

"I guess that makes sense." What could he say? Having Dave in the auction made no sense at all. That's why he'd tried to keep Dave's name off the bachelor's list.

"Angel," Charlene said in a small, tight voice, "I need to ask you a question. It's kind of personal."

Oh, boy. Here it came. "Okay."

"Is Dave? I mean is he?" Her voice faded out.

Finally. Thank G.o.d. He could be honest with his friend. "Yes, Charlene, he is gay. He does not want to admit it, I am afraid. And while I think he would be happier if he came out, we have to respect that he wishes not to. But, chica, I have been worried about asking him to be part of the auction. That is why he was not on my list."

Charlene said a curse word. "Why didn't I see it? My crush on him has been well, it's just been pathetic." Her voice cracked, and Angel wished he did not have to help Pat Canaday with the Purly Girls. Otherwise he would have gone straight to the animal hospital and tried to help Charlene deal with this reality.

Guys like Dave who could sometimes fly below the gaydar could be hard on women. They could be equally hard on themselves. Dave was a devout Baptist. And the Baptists in town were the most adamant in their views about gay people.

"Look, chica, it will be all right. It is better to know the truth, yes? And you are a beautiful woman with a big heart. I'm sure there will be someone for you. Maybe another one of our bachelors."

"Yeah. Maybe." She sounded so sad-almost tragic, really. "I gotta go, Angel. But you can add Dave to the list. Maybe you should buy him."

Charlene cried herself to sleep on Tuesday night. And then she called in sick on Wednesday. Her emotions were too raw, and her eyes too puffy, for her to face Dave.

Maybe if she consumed enough chocolate and watched the entire Cary Grant marathon on Turner Cla.s.sics she could get a grip and move on.

Amanda was right. Charlene did have a propensity for falling in love with men who were unavailable. Usually this meant they were emotionally wounded and unable to commit. But, for the first time, she'd actually picked a mature guy who was physically unavailable.

She fluffed her pillow and turned up the TV volume. She had watched three Cary Grant movies so far, and she had reached the part in Affair to Remember where Cary discovers that Deborah Kerr is crippled. Charlene had her box of tissues ready.

But the doorbell rang.

Dang. It had to be Amanda coming to haul her out of this well of self-pity. Amanda had left half a dozen voicemail messages. But Charlene had not returned the calls. She didn't need her friend dissecting her pitiful life.

She could pretend not to be home. But Amanda wouldn't give up. Besides, Charlene's truck was in the parking lot, so it would be hard to do that.

She threw a terrycloth robe over her flannel PJs, pulled on her sock monkey slippers, and peeked through the peephole on her door. No one was there.

She moved to the side window, which gave a better view of her front doorstep. Something had been left on her stoop.

She hauled open the door to find a wicker basket lined with an old towel and filled with three of the most adorable and waiflike kittens. They were typical farm cats, with random gray and white spots. They looked to be about six weeks old-at the point where they might (and might not) be weaned.

She came out onto the stoop just as Mike and Rainbow came up the path from the parking lot. As usual, he had a pizza box in his hands. Rainbow looked a little more girlish today in a purple T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts.

"Fetching outfit," Mike said as they reached the landing.

Her face flared red hot right to the tip of her nose. "Uh, well, I was"

"Sleeping in?" he said. The afternoon sunshine glowed in his red hair. He grinned.

His smile wasn't friendly, or neighborly. In a word, it reeked of s.e.x.

It knocked her sideways. He could ogle with the best of the heteros.e.xuals. Equally important, Mike was handsome enough to actually qualify as Prince Charming material.

He also had more baggage than a Pullman porter. So in summary, he looked precisely like the mistake she didn't need to make at this particular moment. It occurred to her that Mike could probably drive thoughts of Dave Underhill right out of her head. And then, once she became addicted to Mike, he would leave. She could see the scenario playing itself out in Technicolor.

She hastily wrapped her robe around herself and cinched the tie-belt. Denying him any view of her chest seemed prudent. Especially since her libido had suddenly registered Mike's hotness.

Now that she'd hidden her b.o.o.bs, she could rely on the fact that the rest of her wasn't all that red hot. Especially today, with her hair all tangled from being in bed, and her eyes kind of puffy from all the tears she'd recently shed. And then there were the sock monkey slippers and the matching PJs.

The whole package would turn Mike off.

But that flame in his eyes said otherwise.

Just then, the largest of the kitties climbed out of the basket and dropped, somewhat awkwardly, onto the stoop. The kitten let forth a tiny but nevertheless brave meow.

"Kitty," Rainbow said, clear as a bell. She rushed up the stairs and picked up the kitten and immediately rubbed his little, soft head against her cheek. Then she looked up at Charlene with an expression in her amber eyes that made Charlene melt.

She wanted to fold that little girl up into her arms, then take a comb to her hair. But she held back. Heartbreak lay in that direction, too.

"Looks like the stork delivered you several bundles of joy," Mike said.

She looked up at him. The corner of his mouth tilted upward and an up-to-no-good twinkle glinted in his eyes. What was he up to?

"Did you put these kittens here for me to find?"

His eyebrows rose. "Me? Why would I do that?"

"I don't know."

"I'll take them," Rainbow said as she sat down on the stoop. She put the kitten she'd been holding back into the basket and picked up another one. She seemed to be an expert in handling cats, as if she'd done it many times before. It was rare to see such gentleness in a child so young.

"Where'd you learn to pick up kitties?" Charlene asked.

"Miss Mary," she said, stroking the kitten she'd tucked into the corner of her arm.

Mike squatted down and looked Rainbow in the eye. "Who's Miss Mary?" he asked.

Rainbow looked away from him and made no reply. Instead she put the kitten back with its mates, and then attempted to pick up the basket.

"Whoa, there," Mike said, putting the pizza box down on the stoop and taking the basket from Rainbow's wobbly grasp. "These kitties belong to Dr. Polk."

And just like that, Charlene became the mother of three orphaned cats. In one fell swoop, she'd become a crazy cat lady. Clearly the Lord was sending her a sign.

"But I want them." Rainbow's brow lowered into a scowl, and Charlene knew she needed to defuse the situation.

"Rainbow, sweetie," she said, finally giving in to the urge to hug the child. "I know you want them, but you already have a cat. And I don't have one anymore. My cat, who was very old, died a few months ago. Someone must have known that I was looking for a kitten. They left these here so I wouldn't be lonesome. So I'd like to keep them. But you can come visit them anytime you want. And you can help me name them."

Rainbow's frown turned into a winning smile. "Like Miss Mary?" she said.

"Who is Miss Mary?" Mike asked again.

"She let me name Tigger." Rainbow pulled away from Charlene's hug. Her arms felt so empty.

Rainbow stood up and marched to the door of Mike's condo and folded her arms.

"What is she trying to tell us, I wonder?" Charlene said.

"I have no idea. But I'm suddenly wondering if Tigger belongs to this Miss Mary person."

"You have reason to believe the Tigger doesn't belong to Rainbow?"

"Yeah, Rainbow's caseworker in Chicago said the cat had a tag with a telephone number, but it didn't match up with Angie's cell phone."

"Whose number was it?"

"I don't know. It was no longer in service. But Rainbow's caseworker is trying to figure it out." He picked up the pizza box and turned toward Charlene. "Did you mean what you said about letting her come over to play with the kittens? I know she would enjoy that."

"I did."

"Thank you. I know she's not the cutest little girl on the face of the planet. She can be really difficult. But she's going to be okay. She's made a friend in summer camp. A little boy named Ethan. I gather they've been thick as thieves for the last couple of days. Lizzy Rhodes, one of the junior counselors, told me Ethan is kind of a motormouth."

"Ethan Wright?"

"I don't know his last name."

"I'll bet it's Amanda's little boy. And you're right, he is a motormouth. A perfect friend for Rainbow."

"Well, anyway, I'm starting to believe that things will work out for her. They have to. She's not a demon child."

"Of course she's not. Is that how you see her?"

He blushed to the tips of his ears. And his pale, red-headed skin made the blush incredibly obvious. How the heck did he manage to play poker with a face like that?

"No, I don't see her as a demon child. But she sometimes behaves like one." He took another step toward the door and stopped again.

"Thank you for coming over to read to her last Sat.u.r.day. She really liked that. And don't be surprised when she knocks on your door in the next five minutes."

"I won't be."

CHAPTER.

11.

Mike came out of the kitchen bearing a paper plate with a slice of pizza only to discover the front door wide open and Rainbow nowhere in sight. He was processing this fact when Charlene shouted, "Rainbow, no!" Her voice came from right outside.

He raced through the front door just in time to see Rainbow dashing down the stairs in hot pursuit of Tigger, who seemed to be on a suicide mission that involved crossing the parking lot. Dr. Polk, still fetchingly dressed in her sock monkey PJs and slippers, raced after Rainbow.

Mike dropped the pizza and took the stairs two at a time. Luckily, Charlene caught the girl before she could venture into the parking lot. The cat, however, scampered across the blacktop and went to ground under a giant bush.

"Tigggeerrrrrrrrrrrr!" the girl wailed and tried to escape from Dr. Polk's firm grasp.

"Rainbow, you do not ever cross a street or a parking lot without holding a grownup's hand, is that clear?" Charlene said.

Rainbow seemed unimpressed by this scolding. Although Mike decided, now that Rainbow was no longer in jeopardy, that Charlene's approach to this situation had "mother" written all over it.

How could he not like a woman who loved kittens, and little girls, and wore sock monkey pajamas? Not to mention the fact that she was built like a brick outhouse and could probably get a high-paying gig as a Vegas showgirl if the whole veterinary thing didn't work out for her.

He came up behind them, allowing himself a moment to admire the vet's derriere. "So, what happened?"

"I'm afraid it's my fault," Charlene said, looking up at him, her big brown eyes awash in emotion, her cheeks flushed.