She laughed sarcastically. "Oh yeah. That's right. Tommy Boy got it into his head that he was taking in a million-dollar cat." She fixed her eyes on Garrison with an alarmed expression. "That wasn't true, was it?"

"No, no, of course not. Please, excuse me," he said quickly. "I've got to go."

"Wait a minute-was it true?" She followed him out to the porch. "Please, tell me it wasn't true." As Garrison hurried through the fast-falling snow, he could still hear the woman yelling, telling her son how she was going to "kill Tom when he got home."

Inside the protection of the car, Garrison thought about Harry. Good grief, who could blame the poor cat from running away from that madhouse? Garrison would've hit the trail too. But where would Harry have run to? He hadn't gone home. Garrison was sure of that. He'd been through the house. And he'd been to see Ruby-surely she would have told him if Harry had come back.

Garrison put down all the windows of his car, slowly cruising through the neighborhood, calling out Harry's name over and over. Okay, he knew this was ridiculous. How likely was it that Harry would be out roaming the streets in weather like this? Or would he? Garrison drove all around, going down every street and even a few alleys until he got worried that he might be disturbing some of the neighbors.

Fearful that Harry had been injured somehow, he pulled over and got out his phone, dialing information and getting the numbers of the local veterinarians. He called each of them, inquiring about missing Maine c.o.o.n cats whenever a live person answered and leaving a message with his number when they didn't. Wherever Harry was-Garrison was determined to find him.

With the windows open, snow had blown into the car and, despite the heater running full bore, Garrison was chilled to the bone. "Oh, Harry," he said desperately as he turned toward Gram's house, "please, come home, old boy. I'm sorry I gave you to those horrid people. I didn't know they were like that." And then, although he knew some would declare it wrong to pray for an animal-he didn't care what they thought-he shot up an earnest prayer on Harry's behalf. He made no apologies as he begged G.o.d to keep his furry friend safe and to bring him home.

He parked the Pontiac in the driveway and cranked up all the windows. Then, since he was already cold and wet, he did a quick trip around the perimeter of the house, calling out Harry's name. He even checked in Gram's garden shed. But no Harry.

Feeling like he'd lost his best friend, Garrison went back into the house and peeled off his wet coat, hanging it by the kitchen door. Then, remembering the check, he removed it from his coat pocket. It would need to be returned to Mr. Miller.

Thinking of Gram's MIA attorney was troubling. How was it possible that Mr. Miller had totally forgotten the "surprise visit" to the Maxwells'? Garrison knew that if Mr. Miller had gone as promised, he never would have approved that family. Indeed, if he'd gone, he likely would have discovered Harry was missing back then.

Garrison was just putting the check back in the large white envelope when he realized there was a slender folder inside. He pulled it out to discover it contained the t.i.tle to the house and a couple of envelopes. He recognized Gram's lacy handwriting on the first envelope. Feeling a lump in his throat-and as if he'd let her down-he slowly opened it, removing several pages of fine stationery.

Dear Garrison, If you are reading this, I must be departed to my heavenly home. I felt rather certain that my time was near. For that reason I've met with Mr. Miller, but you must know that by now. First of all, my dear boy, I want to tell you how much I love you. I fear that you may temporarily misinterpret my devotion to you because of my desire to find my cats good homes. So I want you to know that, along with my dear husband and son, you have been one of the loves of my life. You may not know how lost I felt when you came to me. I was grieving for your grandfather and for leaving Kenya. And then I was grieving for your father. But you brought life back to me. Your youth and energy forced me to partic.i.p.ate in the community. I got involved in your school and church and the neighborhood. You, my dear boy, brought me back to life.

But when you went back east to college, I felt a bit lost again. I missed you more than you will ever know and I did not want you to know. That is when I got a cat. Genevieve was a wonderful companion to me. I was aware of your allergies and I knew I'd willingly find the dear cat a new home if you chose to come back, but I suspected that you would not. Then, when you went to Uganda (which made me so happy) I got another cat. Well, you know how this story goes. One good cat led to another. But I never went out looking for them. No, they came to me. And while you were so far away, they were my family.

Because you are reading this I know that you have successfully found good homes for all six of my "children." I thank you for that, Garrison. You may have guessed that one part of my plan was to keep you in your old neighborhood for a spell. I hoped that you might reconnect and perhaps even discover where it is the Good Lord is leading you next. I have to say that you've sounded a bit lost in our phone conversations. But I understand that. I felt lost too.

Now, lest you think I loved my cats more than I loved you, you will find another envelope in this package that Mr. Miller has prepared in the event of my demise. In that package you will find the t.i.tle to my house and a check for the remainder of my inheritance. As you can see, you are receiving a much greater portion than the kitties. I know that you will use the money wisely-to help yourself and your fellow man. I pray that it will be a blessing and not a curse. Most of all I pray that you will find someone as dear to you as your grandfather was to me. It is hard to go this life alone. But if you must, perhaps you should get yourself a dog.

Always remember that your heavenly Father and your grandmother are watching over you, dear Garrison.

All my love,

Gram

With tears in his eyes, Garrison opened up the last envelope and removed a cas.h.i.+er's check. He stared at the figure, then, blinking to clear his eyes, he looked again. No, he was not a millionaire, but it was more money than Garrison could possibly earn in ten years. He shook his head in disbelief. But as he slid the check back into the envelope he felt unworthy of it. After all, it was his fault that one of Gram's beloved cats was missing. Sure, he knew she would understand and forgive him. She'd have to forgive her attorney too. As did Garrison.

Even so, Garrison wasn't sure he could forgive himself. How had he been so shortsighted? Why hadn't he investigated the Maxwells more carefully on that first day? And why had he left Harry-of all the cats-with what appeared to be a "gold digging" family? Poor Harry!

Still feeling chilled and blue, he went into the living room, and seeing that some birch logs were laid in the fireplace, probably for show, he struck a long match to light them, watching as the papery bark slowly caught fire. And not wanting to turn on the lights, he decided to light the candles along the mantel as well. It seemed a little silly to light candles with no one else around to enjoy them, but he hoped that it would put him in a better Christmas spirit.

In an attempt to distract himself from obsessing over Harry, he tried to focus his attention on the changes Barb had made to the house. Really, it was amazing, and perfect for Christmas, even if it was an illusion. The house truly looked festive-as if it should be hosting friends gathering around food with Christmas tunes playing in the background. He wished he could feel as festive as his surroundings looked.

He tried to recall the happy faces he'd witnessed while delivering the unexpected checks around the neighborhood. Surely his stint as "Santa" should be enough to erase the Christmas Scrooge feelings that were darkening his heart. He reminded himself of his own check. Anyone else receiving a windfall like that would probably be over the moon.

He held his hands over the crackling flames, remembering Gram's sweet letter and how she'd wanted him to know how much she loved him. Okay, that warmed his heart. No denying it. But thinking of Gram reminded him of the cats . . . and how he'd let her down. How he'd let Harry down. Suddenly he felt blue again.

He could hear car doors closing out front. Glancing out, he watched as several people got out and hurried up to Ruby's house. She always hosted Christmas for her relatives, packing them into her little house and stuffing them with all the good foods she'd been preparing for days. Ruby had always included Gram and him as well, and he knew he would be welcome there tonight. He also knew he was in no condition to put on his game face and make small talk. Better to just lay low.

If he got hungry, he could nuke another microwave meal. He'd probably go to bed early and try to sleep. Perhaps he'd hear from one of the veterinarians tomorrow. If not, he would post "missing cat" signs all over town. He'd even offer a generous reward. That should help stir things up.

He was just heading for the kitchen when he heard the doorbell. Had one of Ruby's guests mistaken this house for hers? He hurried to open it, ready to redirect them next door, when to his surprise he saw Cara. With her bright red scarf circling her neck and white lacy flakes falling on her dark hair, she was truly a vision. For a moment he almost thought he was halucinating. But it was what she held in her arms that made him blink twice. Was this for real?

"Harry!" he exclaimed, reaching for the long-lost cat. "It's you!"

"h.e.l.lo, Garrison," Cara said with an uneasy expression.

"Cara, h.e.l.lo! You found Harry!"

"Yes."

"Harry, old boy." Garrison held the cat close, looking down into his face. "I was so worried about you. I looked all over the neighborhood. I'm so glad you're okay." Suddenly he looked back at Cara. "I'm sorry. Do you want to come in?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." He opened the door wide. "Come in and get warm. I even made a fire." He closed the door and set Harry down, then took her coat and led her to the fireplace.

"The house looks great," she said quietly.

"Yeah. Do you want to see the whole thing? I can turn the lights on and-"

"I've actually seen it already," she confessed. "I slipped in while your real estate agent was doing the open house."

"Right . . ." Garrison bent down and picked up Harry again. "I can't believe you found him, Cara. How did you? Where did you? When did you?"

"One question at a time," she said patiently. "I was on one of my regular afternoon walks several days ago. I was pa.s.sing a vacant house on Was.h.i.+ngton Street-you know that old Victorian that's in really bad shape?"

"Yeah. The old Brinson place."

"Anyway I thought I saw a cat on the porch. I thought that was weird since no one lived there. And, as you know, I've been wanting a cat. As I walked up to the porch, I thought it was probably a feral cat because it looked kind of matted and straggly and wet, but it had been raining. I called out here, kitty-kitty' and it came running toward me. At first I was kind of worried-what if it had rabies or something? Then I looked into those green eyes and I thought it looked just like Harry, but I didn't think that was possible."

"Wow . . . amazing . . ."

"Anyway I took him home and dried him off and fed him. He was really hungry." She shrugged. "He's been with me ever since."

"When did you figure out it was Harry?"

"I tried to tell myself it wasn't really Harry," she said a bit sheepishly. "Like maybe he was Harry's long-lost brother, you know?"

"Uh-huh . . ." He scratched Harry's chin.

"But then I called him by his name-Harry." She made a sad smile. "And he came running. I knew then."

"Really? He came to you, just like that?"

"I tried to call you, Garrison. I tried your cell phone and the phone here at the house. But they were both out of service."

He explained that he'd changed numbers.

"And the reason I sneaked into the open house was to ask your agent how to reach you. But she was talking with a couple who looked like serious buyers and I didn't want to distract her." She frowned. "I was pretty disappointed when I saw the For Sale sign, Garrison. Didn't see that one coming."

"I'm thinking about taking that sign down," he confessed.

She looked surprised. "Anyway, when I went over to David's tonight, I heard that you'd been by. Heard about the check you gave him." She smiled. "That was really generous. He can use it right now. Starting his home business has been a challenge."

"Well, that was my grandmother's doing. I was just the delivery boy."

"Anyway, I thought I'd better get Harry back to you."

"Thank you!" He explained about the Maxwells.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah. I would much rather have given Harry to you." He reminded her of the conditions of Gram's will. "If I could've I would've, Cara."

"That's okay. I understand." She pointed at him. "Hey, what about your allergies? Or have you already taken some medicine?"

He looked down at Harry. "No, I haven't taken anything today. But, you're right, I don't seem to be sneezing . . . yet . . ."

They both just stood by the crackling fire without speaking. Garrison didn't know what to say. But he wished he could think of a reason to entice her to stay. "Sorry I can't offer you any Christmas goodies . . . I haven't even been to the store yet."

"That's okay. I should get back to David's. Besides, you probably have something to do . . . I mean, for Christmas Eve."

"No, no, not really." He could feel Harry getting restless in his arms and so he set him back down, watching as the handsome cat sauntered around, exploring the room with feline interest.

"But, um, before I go," she spoke slowly, "I'd like to ask you a question."

"Go for it." He folded his arms across his chest, studying her closely. He wanted to memorize the curve of her cheek, the way her dark eyes sparkled in the firelight, the fullness of her lips, the way she tipped her head to one side as she spoke.

"Okay . . . so I just want to know, Garrison Brown-why didn't you tell me goodbye?"

"Goodbye?"

"Yeah, you left here without even telling me you were going. And, call me stupid, but I thought we were friends."

"We were friends," he declared. "I mean, we are friends. Aren't we?"

"I guess. But, well . . . I just thought we had, uh, maybe something more. You know?" Her eyes narrowed with uncertainty. "But I must've been wrong. Otherwise you wouldn't have taken off like that-without a word."

"I thought you and David were a couple," he said abruptly.

"Me and David?" Her brow creased. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." He nodded sincerely. "You went to that Christmas party with him and-"

"I had agreed to do that a couple weeks before I even knew you, Garrison. In fact, I'm pretty sure I told you about it. David had this big fancy work-related party to attend and he didn't want to go stag. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"What about the Christmas parade? You and David and Jackson together-you all looked pretty cozy, just like a happy little family."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I had offered to take Jackson to the parade because David couldn't. It was going to be just Jackson and me and Santa Claus. David was tied up with a client coming by his house to look at something. Then his client was a no-show and David surprised me with coffee. You were there, you saw it."

"I saw it . . . but I guess I misunderstood," he admitted. Had he really been that off base, that thickheaded-to put a completely wrong spin on everything? "But what about tonight?" he said suddenly.

"Tonight?" She ran her hands down the sides of her dress, a crinkly, cranberry-colored velveteen that was very pretty on her. She slipped her hands into pockets, waiting for him to explain himself.

"You're going to spend Christmas Eve with David and Jackson. I know it because they both told me. David is cooking a turkey. And you should probably be there with them right now." He proclaimed this like "Aha, I got you!" Although he'd never wanted anything less.

"Yes, I probably should be there right now," she confessed. "Along with a couple dozen other people."

"A couple dozen?" Garrison felt an irrational rush of hope. "So David's having a dinner party?"

"That's right. A potluck actually. Mostly people from the neighborhood. Some that you know as a matter of fact. Beth and Annabelle are coming. So are Sabrina and Riley-as soon as she can extract herself from her sister's house."

"Interesting . . ." Really interesting.

"So do you want to go with me or not?" she demanded playfully. "The food should be good-a lot better than your microwave meal. I made a big ol' pan of real mac and cheese-used three cheeses."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds great." He nodded in disbelief. "But, by going with you . . . do you mean kind of like a date?"

Her eyes twinkled merrily. "Kinda like that."

"Okay!"

"But not so fast, Mr. Brown." She pulled what looked like a small piece of a plant from her pocket. Was it from the poinsettia? She dangled it in front of him.

"What's that?" he asked.

She held it over her head. "Mistletoe."

He grinned with realization. "You mean . . . ?"

"Oh yeah . . ." She leaned forward with an expectant expression.

Garrison took in a quick breath, then leaned down toward her and, gazing into her eyes, he kissed her-and she definitely kissed him back! When they finally stepped away, he could feel the room spinning around him.

"Merry Christmas, Garrison," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said in a husky voice. "Merry Christmas!"

Melody Carlson is the award-winning author of over two hundred books, including Christmas at Harrington's, The Christmas Pony, and A Simple Christmas Wish. Melody recently received a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in the inspirational market for her books. She and her husband live in central Oregon. For more information about Melody, visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.