Page 49 of Keystrokes and Kittens

So to speak.

Twenty-three years old. New college grad. Home to take care of his aging mother. Said mother did okay during the day, but she struggled at night. Cody had no issues with working during the day, but needed to be home for his mom whenever he could. In truth, he saw the store as a reprieve. He had no issues caring for her, but he also wanted to be amongst people. His favoritepart of the job was working with customers. He adored all manner of animals and was quickly a favorite with my regulars.

Vera even took me aside to compliment me on the hiring ofthat young man. Not that she was much older than us. She was one of those old souls who rescued senior dogs with health issues as well as dogs who came from dire circumstances. I offered her a permanent discount because of all she did for our community. That wasn’t something I could do often—I still had the responsibility to make a profit—but I had a bit of leeway for special cases.

These days, Vera cared for Bella. The chihuahua had endured horrific abuse before animal control had taken her away and charged the owner. Vera had struggled to convince the dog that not all humans were dangerous and abusive. For her patience, she now had a lovely dog who, although still scared of many people, seemed to have accepted me. That still warmed my heart every time I got to pet Bella.

The cool thing was that Bella immediately took a shine to Cody. A meeting of souls. That had me grinning from ear to ear. And confirmed I’d done the correct thing by hiring the young man. He’d taken to the job like the proverbial duck to water and quickly offered to take full day shifts—including every other Saturday.

Suddenly, I had a bit of free time on my hands.

Soren was thrilled and quickly filled the time with kitten play, Tibby walks, more crime dramas, and tons of cuddles. Never pressured. Always on my terms.

Tonight, after my Friday shift was done, I headed home with a rotisserie chicken, a bean salad, corn on the cob, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. All favorites of Soren. He’d been working on a major contract with a brutal deadline.

Lolita had also been pulling some insane hours, and they appeared to be into the home stretch.

I’d convinced Soren to let me take on a bit more kitten care—as well as some of the cooking and cleaning. Yesterday, after work, I’d headed to my home to do some serious dusting, pack more clothes, and double-check that everything that could be unplugged was. My fridge was empty except for condiments. My place felt…cavernous. I’d never realized how much I’d counted on Quinta coming home and making it feel alive again. While I was there, I also scoped out some potential spots for litter boxes, cat trees, and scratching posts.

Yeah, I was seriously keeping Peaches or Jack or—God forbid—both.

That said, Soren was also making noises about introducing the kittens to Tibby soon.

The other day, to make a move in that direction—with Noah’s permission—we’d put the kittens in Tibby’s crate. She’d sat outside, chin on her paws, and watched the little ones explore the new space. Then, after we removed them, she sniffed for what felt like hours before settling into her crate with her nose against the blanket.

Small steps. Huge progress.

“I’m home.” I no longer winced at saying that. Soren had made it clear—in so many small ways—that he really liked it when I said those exact words. He claimed it made the kittens feel more secure. I’d smile to myself, agree wholeheartedly, and just move along.

Soren poked his head out from his office. “Give me five? And can you do the kittens? I’m—”

I waved him off. “No worries. Whenever you’re ready. The food will keep.” I put the ice cream in the freezer, put the rest on the counter, prepared the bottles, gave Tibbythatlook, and moved to the great room.

She followed.

I plopped down on the sofa and reached for Jack—who had been wandering around in the crate. “Hey, buddy.” I got him feeding right away. We now offered them liquid in a bowl to get the accustomed to feeding that way. Soon they’d be ready for wet food.

Tibby eyed me.

I grinned. “Only if Soren says it’s okay. The chicken is rosemary and herbs. My favorite. And your dad’s.”

“Did I hear my name?” Soren appeared, pecked me on the cheek, grabbed the second bottle, and dislodged Peaches from where she clung to her blanket with her tiny claws. “These things are getting sharper.” He laughed as he settled her.

“They are. I thought you said you had to work longer.” I didn’t like the idea of him blowing off work to be with us. “I could’ve handled both of them.”

He grinned. “I finished my last line of code just as I heard Tibby’s nails on the hardwood. I sent the latest iteration to Lolita, and she’s digging in. She’ll text if there’s an issue. Otherwise, she’ll email me the results overnight. Sorry, I’ll have to do a bit tomorrow.”

“No worries.”

“I know.” He grimaced. “But it’s your first Saturday off in, what, how many years?”

I squinted. “Since Quinta was old enough to be left alone. So, like, five or six years? Wow, I’d never put that into words before. I just…the extra pay that I tucked aside is really helping with her university expenses. So I’m really glad I did that—even if it meant a bit less time with her.”

“You trusted her, obviously.”

“Yep. She’d spend part of the day at the library and the rest with her friend Krista. I was so lucky.” I adjusted Jack. “Krista’s mom always made certain the girls were fed. My turn was Sundays when the girls hung at our place.” I chuckled. “Krista’smom called that hermetime. Again—I was the lucky one. I never had to worry about Quinta.”

“Friends are good to have.”