"Right . . ."

"Is it a gift?" she asked as she taped the "hood" loosely around the plant.

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Well, whatever you do, don't leave it by the front door. That would kill it for sure."

"Right." He hadn't realized a poinsettia was so temperamental.

"Does the person you're giving it to have pets or small children?"

"No."

"Good. Poinsettia leaves are poisonous if ingested."

"Yeah, well, I doubt she will eat it."

The woman laughed.

Garrison was tempted to tell the woman he had changed his mind. Who knew a simple plant could be such high maintenance? Almost as bad as a houseful of cats.

"Well, I hope she enjoys it. It's really a lovely gift."

Garrison carefully picked up the plant. "Thanks. I hope I can get it safely to her."

She waved her hand. "Don't worry. I probably made it sound worse than it is. Just be careful with the cold air."

He hurried the delicate plant out to his car and, fastening the seatbelt around it, he quickly started the car and cranked up the heat. As he drove to Cara's house, he wondered what he'd do if she wasn't home. At first he had hoped she would be gone so that he could leave it on her porch. Now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps he could leave it with a neighbor? Or else he could take it home with him. Except that it might poison the cats.

Feeling a bit silly and uneasy, Garrison pulled into her driveway and carefully extracted the plant from the car, hurrying to take it up to the front porch where he rang the doorbell. When no one answered, he looked down at the bundle in his arms. He longed to just leave it, but the image of Cara discovering a dead plant on her porch was definitely not a good one.

"h.e.l.lo?" a male voice called from the house next door. "Are you looking for Cara?"

"Yes," Garrison said eagerly. "I have something for her, but she doesn't seem to be at home and I don't want to leave it on the porch."

"You can leave it with me if you like." The guy waved him over. "Cara and I are good friends. She's usually home, but Monday is her day to go into the office. If you like, I can take it over to her when she gets home."

"Great!" Garrison hurried over to the tan house next door. "I'd leave it on her porch, but the flowers can't handle the cold."

"Are you a delivery man from the florist?" The neighbor glanced over at the old Pontiac with interest. "That doesn't look like their usual van."

"No, I'm just a friend of Cara's." Okay, Garrison knew that was a stretch. "A relatively new acquaintance actually."

"I'm David Landers." He smiled as he extended his hand.

"I'm Garrison Brown. I live a few blocks from here."

"Nice to meet you, neighbor." David appeared to be about the same age as Garrison, but unlike Garrison, this guy oozed confidence.

"Yeah. Thanks." Garrison held out the plant. "And thanks for taking-"

"Why don't you come on in?" David opened the door wider.

"Okay." Garrison was pleasantly surprised at this unexpected hospitality. "I didn't realize poinsettias were so fragile when I bought this."

"No problem." David closed the door and pointed to a gla.s.s-topped table in the foyer. "Just set it there for now. I'll get it to Cara as soon as she gets home. Probably around five." He grinned. "I like having an excuse to run over and see her whenever I can. When she first moved in, she used to come over here a lot to borrow stuff. It's her first time living in a real house and she'd need a potato peeler or some basil or whatever. I didn't mind a bit. After she got settled, I missed her visits so I started making up reasons to pop in on her." He chuckled. "But we're beyond that now."

"Right . . ." For some reason Garrison felt uncomfortable hearing this.

"How do you know Cara?" David gave him an overly curious look.

Garrison gauged his answer. "We met on the street just last week. And then my neighbor took me over to Cara's for Thanksgiving-a get-together for the single folks in the neighborhood." He studied David closely, trying to calculate his age. Somewhere between thirty-five and forty, he would estimate. "I don't believe you were there." He glanced around the homey-looking room. "But maybe you're not single."

"I'm divorced. Three years last summer. And I would've gone to Cara's little s.h.i.+ndig, but I had a previous commitment with my family in Spokane. My parents wanted to see Jackson."

"Jackson?"

"That's my son. I have full custody of the kid. Jackson just turned eight." He called over his shoulder. "Hey, Jackson? You still in the kitchen? Come on out here."

A young boy came shyly around a corner, peering into the living room.

"Say h.e.l.lo to Mr. Brown." David looked uncertainly at Garrison. "It was Brown, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Garrison smiled at the boy. "h.e.l.lo, Jackson."

"He-h.e.l.lo," the boy said with uncertainty.

"Mr. Brown brought a plant over for Miss Wilson," David told his son.

Jackson just nodded as he moved toward the staircase, nervously grasping the banister with one hand. "I-uh-I'm going-to my room."

"Okay," David said easily.

"Nice to meet you, Jackson," Garrison called out as the boy scurried up the stairs.

David frowned. "I like to give him every opportunity I can to interact."

"Sure." Garrison pretended to understand, although he wasn't completely sure what David meant.

"Because, as you can probably see, Jackson has difficulty conversing," David continued quietly. "They say he's got a social anxiety disorder. But things got worse when kids at school started teasing him. So I took him out. I don't mind homeschooling so much since I work from home anyway. And Jackson is really bright. But I do worry about his social interaction. I wish he had someone his own age to talk with."

Garrison nodded, realizing that he could probably relate more to David's insecure son than to the self-a.s.sured dad. "Yeah, that would probably be good for him."

"I'm thinking about getting him a dog for Christmas. Although I need to make sure our budget can handle it. It hasn't been exactly easy getting my home business up and running. And I know dogs can be expensive. But it might be worth it . . . for Jackson's sake. Not that a dog can carry on a conversation exactly." David pulled back a corner of the brown paper hood to peek in on the poinsettia. "Pretty."

"How about a cat?" Garrison said suddenly.

"Huh?" David's brow creased as he pushed the paper closed again. "A cat?"

Garrison quickly explained about Gram and her cats and the need to re-home them. "I still have this Seal Point Siamese. About eight years old. Nice and big. And she talks all the time."

"She talks?" David looked skeptical.

"I know it sounds crazy, but this cat talks. In cat language, of course, but she's really chatty. I have a feeling she carried on lengthy conversations with my grandmother." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, I'm not great at conversing with cats. I'm sure poor Muzzy is completely fed up with me."

"A Seal Point Siamese? I've seen pictures of those. Nice-looking cats."

"Muzzy is really pretty. Nice, sleek dark coat. Big blue eyes. And like I said, she loves to talk."

"Eight years? Is that very old? I mean, for a cat?"

"My grandmother had a cat named Genevieve that lived to be twenty-three."

"No kidding." David shook his head. "And Jackson is eight years old-just like Muzzy."

"No worries that she'll have kittens," Garrison a.s.sured him. "And she's in good health. I have the vet records."

David narrowed his eyes as if really considering this. "You really think this cat could encourage Jackson to talk more?"

"I'm almost certain of it. The cat really wants to engage with someone. She's a real chatterbox." He didn't add that she could drive a quiet person crazy. Let them discover this. Besides, it was clear that David liked to chat.

"And a cat wouldn't pa.s.s judgment on Jackson."

"Not at all. And she'd be a good companion for him too."

"I like this idea." David nodded. "I like it a lot."

Garrison told David a bit about his grandmother's will. "I know it sounds a little eccentric, but Gram's cats were her family. She had to make sure they got good homes."

"I don't blame her a bit." David invited Garrison to remove his coat and sit down to go over the details of Gram's slightly eccentric requirements.

It didn't take long for Garrison to realize that this would be a great home for Muzzy. "And I know my grandmother would be pleased to think that Muzzy could be an encouragement to your boy."

"I want to do this," David declared. "It makes perfect sense. Jackson isn't getting a dog for Christmas. He's getting a cat."

"Great." Garrison frowned. "But I hope you don't want to wait until Christmas."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm trying to get things tied up before that. I actually hoped to get the cats placed this week. And then I have to head back to Seattle for a job. I'd been looking for months and finally got an offer. Can't afford to let it go."

"Sure." David nodded. "I can understand that. And, come to think of it, I've heard that you should never give pets right at Christmas. Too much going on. They can get stressed out . . . or sick."

"So would you be interested in getting Muzzy sooner then?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I could bring her by anytime you want," Garrison offered. "Well, unless you'd like to meet her first. Or maybe you want to talk to Jackson-"

"No, I think I'd rather surprise him."

"I can show you a picture." Garrison pulled his phone from his pocket. "I've got photos of all the cats on here."

David peered over Garrison's shoulder as he flicked through the photos. "There's Muzzy." Garrison held up the phone.

"She is a pretty cat." David smiled with satisfaction. "And you mentioned the two-week policy . . . Can I a.s.sume it works both ways?"

"Both ways?"

"If Muzzy doesn't fit in here. If she and Jackson don't hit it off-I can send her back?"

Garrison considered this. "Sure, of course. I know that my grandmother would not want Muzzy placed in a home that didn't work for everyone."

David stuck out his hand. "Then it's a deal."

"Deal." Garrison grinned.

"When can we have her?"

"If you like I can bring her over tonight."

"That'd be great."

Garrison felt like letting out a victory yell as he hurried out to his car. Finding a home for Muzzy-a cat whose constant "talking" was driving him up the walls-was fantastic. And if she could help Jackson with his social anxiety-well, it was a real win-win situation. At home, he felt slightly guilty as he gathered up a generous supply of cat things for Muzzy. It wasn't that he disliked the loud Siamese so much. In fact, she'd actually grown on him the last few days. But at the same time, he knew she needed a good home. Just the right kind of home. And he felt fairly certain he had found it.

Using a special gluten-free kitty treat to entice Muzzy into a cat carrier, he a.s.sured her that she was going to a happy home with a young man who would adore her. With her safely away from the other cats, he took a moment to give the others their dinner. Then he packed a box with everything a new cat owner could possibly want, including a nearly full bag of her special cat food, and loaded it into the back of the Pontiac. With the cat carrier safely buckled into the seat next to him, he drove over to David's. Was it really possible he was down to just two cats? Not to mention they were two of the most congenial cats. Finding them homes should be a piece of cake.

Feeling hopeful and optimistic, Garrison toted the cat carrier up to the front door of the Landerses' house. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a car pulling into Cara's driveway. Glancing over, he watched as the sky-blue Volkswagen Bug parked. While knocking on the door, he watched Cara climb out of her car and look curiously in his direction. Smiling, he waved, then knocked on the door again. It opened a moment later.

"Is this her? Is this Muzzy?" David asked expectantly.

"Is that the cat?" Jackson asked from behind his dad.

"This is Muzzy," Garrison proclaimed.

"Here's your early Christmas present, Jackson." David took the carrier from Garrison and held it out in front of his son. "Your very own cat. Meet Muzzy."

"I'm going back to the car for some things," Garrison called out to them. As he turned away he could hear the happiness in Jackson's voice. The boy was clearly thrilled to be getting a cat. It was like Christmas had come early.

"What's going on over there?" Cara asked with a curious expression.

Garrison quickly explained about finding a home for a cat.

Her brows arched. "Really? Which cat?"

"Muzzy," he said as he reached in for the box of cat supplies. "The Siamese."

Cara smiled stiffly. "Well, that's very nice." She took a shopping bag out of her car. "Nice to see you, Garrison." Then she turned and hurried up to her house. Friendly . . . but cool.