The Vet's Shelter Surprise
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Elle Douglas
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17
Chapter One
“Now, you keep those claws away from my sleeve. This is cashmere,” Georgia murmured to the first adorable, yet inconvenient ball of fluff that she gently separated from the rest of the kittens, all cuddled up beside their plump mother cat. She deposited it in the banker’s box lined with dish towels as the little creature mewed and glared at her, then went in for the second, her hands protected by red oven mitts.
“Okay, okay, you’ll all get your turn. I’m trying to help you here. Something tells me your fur likes water almost as much as my shoes do,” she said, eyeing the soft brown suede of her brand-new ankle boots and shifting the umbrella wedged between her neck and shoulder. One by one, she moved the six kittens, the mother helping her by leaping into the box unassisted, nuzzling her babies and licking their foreheads as they jostled to be next to her.
Despite the rain, Georgia paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the mother cat’s fierce love and protection, and her kittens’ desperate battle for her affection and attention. While Georgia was no animal person, it was hard to deny how cute the little fluff balls were. They were adorable, but it would only get them so far. They’d soon realize they’d have to claw their own way forward in this world.
Only an hour ago, Georgia had discovered the cat and her kittens while taking the garbage out to the bins housed in the shed behind her aunt’s lakefront cottage. Their gentle cries guided her to the dugout under the stairs leading to the shed, where the furry brood was nestled in a pile of dried-out leaves and twigs. The mother didn’t appear to be feral; she was well-fed with a healthy gray coat. She was just a bit out of her element.
Just like Georgia.
Georgia had promised herself she would keep her phone confined in her aunt’s old wooden bread box until at least 4 p.m. (happy hour—or not so happy, depending on what messages had come through in the meantime), but this was an emergency, right? What kind of person would she be, leaving those poor, defenseless animals out in the rain? Talk about bad press. And it wasn’t like she was about to take them inside. Just the thought of vacuuming all that fur was all the permission she needed to free her phone. She’d braced herself for an onslaught of messages on her home screen, and was surprised to find that none had come through. Was she already irrelevant?
After a quick online search for the local animal shelter and a message left on their voicemail, Georgia had a purpose for the day. It wasn’t glamorous, and it required her to drive in the rain, which she hated, but it was a welcome event; Georgia didn’t do downtime. “Let’s get you somewhere safe,” she whispered to her box of kittens as she navigated around puddles to get to her car.
She placed the box in the backseat of her rented Audi, shut the back door, then paused. She opened the door again and strapped the seat belt across the box, congratulating herself on how well she was executing this small heroic act.
The GPS guided her the ten minutes it took to navigate the winding, tree-lined roads to reach the Sunset County Animal Shelter, where she planned to deliver her rescued strays then get back to the business of her day, which so far included waking up early after yet another terrible sleep, drinking too much coffee, resisting looking at the news, getting dressed and made up for no one, and looking out the window waiting for something to happen. The rest of the day promised more of the same, so really, this little adventure might be the highlight.
The shelter, a small limestone structure with a steep gabled roof, sat at the top of Sunset County’s Main Street, which led down to the shore of Hollyberry Lake, one of the four sparkling lakes in the charming but very dead Northern Ontario town. Out front, a sprawling garden of mums in every shade of red, yellow and orange were like a mirror reflection of the large red maples flanking the building, their branches swaying in the breeze overhead. The sign outside needed a fresh coat of paint and the windows were on the dustier side, but for all its flaws it exuded the same homespun charm that oozed from every pore of Sunset County, a stark contrast to the traffic jams and bright lights awaiting Georgia’s return to Los Angeles. Whenever that would be.
The mother cat eyed Georgia warily as she unbuckled the seat belt and gathered the banker’s box in her arms. “Trust me, you’re better off here,” Georgia said as she kicked the back door closed with her boot. She scolded herself for forgetting the umbrella in the car as she turned toward the front entrance, eager to shield the little kittens from the rain. She was capable, sure. But no one would ever mistake her for the nurturing type.
As she let herself in through the front gate, a red van across the street caught her eye, emblazoned with a Channel 4 News logo. Georgia froze as she watched a petite woman with long braids emerge from the front seat, and a camera operator pull his gear out from the back of the truck. Impossible. How had they found her? No one was supposed to have the slightest clue who she was in this teeny-tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Wasn’t that why she’d taken a five-hour flight and driven north, to the last place on earth she’d ever be recognized? She’d only been there three days, and had barely left Nina’s cottage.
With her heart in her throat and the box in her hands, Georgia bolted up the path and let herself in through the shelter door, then peered out the window past the Help Wanted sign (Help wanted? More like help needed!). The camera operator was fiddling with the mic on the reporter’s lapel. Georgia gasped, her mind racing. As if she hadn’t suffered enough of an invasion of her privacy over the last few weeks.
She stared intently at the news crew across the street, then almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a throat clearing behind her. “Can I help you?” a voice sounded from what felt like inches away.
Georgia spun around, colliding with a woman, causing her to tip the box sideways. She felt the mother and babies slide to the side of the box, and narrowly saved them from tumbling out by quickly shifting her arm to block them. Before she could even look up at the source of her surprise, she felt the box level in her arms as the woman in front of her helped steady it. “Whoa, whoa,” she said. “Easy there.”
One of the little kittens, a miniature orange-and-white puffball the size of a teacup, had gotten loose and had its claws stuck in her sleeve. Georgia allowed the woman to take the box while she cupped the kitten in her hand, gently dislodging its teeny-tiny claws from the threads of her sweater.
“Nice save,” the woman said. Georgia cradled the kitten in her hands, steadying herself, and took in the stranger in front of her, a woman with the most intense brown eyes she’d ever seen and perfect wavy chestnut hair that fell just above her shoulders. She wore a white lab coat over a hunter green sweater and jeans, and looked at Georgia with a curious and amused expression. She peered inside the box. “Ah. I see someone didn’t heed public health advice.”
Georgia narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” The kitten moved in her hand. She looked down at the baby animal, who rubbed its little head on her wrist, then yawned, revealing a pink tongue not much bigger than a pencil eraser.
“Looks like he likes you,” said the woman, as the mother cat made a squawking mewing noise. “But Mom’s not too happy.”
“Here,” Georgia said. She placed the kitten back in the box in the woman’s arms and looked up at her. “So, here they are.”
The woman raised her eyebrows.
“I left a message earlier?” Georgia said.
“Not that I know of,” the woman said, looking back in the box. “Seamus isn’t here right now. He’s the manager. He would have told you that you have to keep them.”
“Well, these aren’t mine. I found them.”
She looked at Georgia quizzically. “Found them?”
“Under the porch out back of my aunt’s house. I don’t live here. I mean, I’m just in town for a bit. I don’t know who these belong to.” For someone who coached others in speaking for a living, Georgia felt her speech getting all muddled up in the woman’s deep brown gaze. “And why would you be surprised?” She looked around the room. “You’re an animal shelter, right?”
The woman looked away, then furrowed her brow. Georgia followed her gaze out to the street where the news team was still standing and remembered why she’d flown in there like a tornado.
“We’re currently an animal shelter. We might be without a home soon, though.” She studied the reporters, then looked at Georgia. “The county’s plans to cut funding were just announced yesterday, and our regular fundraising won’t be enough to cover the shortfall. Looks like the local news is reporting on the story.”
A wave of relief washed over Georgia. Of course there were things going on in the world other than her own personal, and very embarrassing, drama. For example, the undeniable electric charge pulsing through her from standing so close to this incredibly alluring woman. She steeled herself. If there was anything Georgia O’Neill was good at, it was keeping her cool. One recent lapse didn’t negate that, right? “Okay, well, I’m very sorry to hear that, Doctor...”
“Melanie Carter. Mel. Don’t apologize to me. I just check in on the animals once a week or so. It’s my uncle Seamus who’s losing. This place has been his life’s work. Not to mention the animals.” Mel was a tad cool in her demeanor, but at the mention of her uncle and the animals Georgia thought she detected her expression softening.
“I’m Georgia O’Neill. What will happen to them?” Georgia asked. She looked behind Mel’s shoulder to see a hallway that led to a series of rooms where she guessed the animals were kept.
“Nothing’s set in stone yet. But we’ll try to move them to another place a few counties over. So,” she said, looking down at the box of kittens, “we’re in no place to take in any new animals.”
“What am I supposed to do with these?” Georgia asked, straightening her posture. The kittens were cute. But seeing Mel Carter, with her broad shoulders and narrow waist that suggested a regular fitness regimen, holding on to the box, inspecting the contents—well, that just about made her knees buckle.
Georgia felt Mel’s eyes studying her. Was she sizing up her ability to care for another living thing? Or was that flicker in her eye something else? Georgia was suddenly glad she’d taken the time to get herself together that morning rather than giving in to the temptation of spending the rest of her day in her pajamas. Being locked in Mel Carter’s—Doctor Mel Carter’s—gaze was poking some serious holes in her trademark cool confidence.
“You’ll have to take them with you,” Mel said, and for a moment Georgia wanted nothing more than for the doctor to lay out more orders. She’d pretty much do anything Mel wanted her to, and maybe then some. “There’s really no—”
Mel was interrupted by the door to the shelter opening behind Georgia, and a small gray-haired man coming through the entrance. His glasses were crooked and the laces on one shoe were untied, though it was unclear as to whether his disheveled state was situational or just a general way of being. He bumbled past Georgia without acknowledging her. “Melanie,” he said. “How’s my Checkers?”
“Just fine, Seamus. I gave her a dose of vitamin E mixed with selenium. She should be back to her old self before you know it.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Now what have we got here?” Georgia watched as Seamus peered into the box of kittens that she was apparently about to inherit. He let out a shout of glee. “It’s Molly! Oh, the Harris family is going to be overjoyed. They’ve been worried sick about her. And look at these kittens. Beautiful.”
Seamus turned and did a double take when he noticed Georgia. “Oh. Hello. Where did you find them? Not sure if you’ve noticed the posters all around town but there are two young girls who have been beside themselves for weeks. Seems that they’d been trying to keep her inside, with her delicate condition and all, but one of them left the back door open after burning a batch of sugar cookies and Ms. Molly here couldn’t resist an adventure. She’s an outdoor cat, but she must have been chased or scared by something and lost her way.”
Lost her way. Georgia and Molly had more in common than she’d initially thought. She was about to answer, when Mel cut in. “Georgia here found them under her porch and wanted to dump them off,” she said.
Georgia’s face went hot. “I found them under my aunt’s porch. And I wasn’t dumping them off. It’s an animal shelter.”
Mel’s expression changed from skeptical to amused. “You’re right.” She smiled, and Georgia instinctively touched her neck, something she’d trained her clients not to do. It showed vulnerability. Weakness. Which was what Mel was making her feel. Mel peered back in the box. “It’s just frustrating how many people don’t neuter or spay their cats and aren’t willing to care for the kittens.”
“The Harris family will take good care. Now, why don’t I call them?” Seamus said. “Finally, some good news today.” He pulled back the curtain to look at the news truck driving away.
“I heard you might be losing some funding,” Georgia said. “I’m really sorry.” She paused, looking back at the kittens still in Mel’s arms, and again had to gather herself. Someone gorgeous holding kittens? Come on. They made calendars out of this, didn’t they? “I’d be happy to deliver them to the family. My day’s pretty open.” Another task. She was starting to feel like herself again.
Seamus nodded. “Wonderful. I’ll go call them now.” He looked at Mel. “They live just up on Russell Road. You’re heading that direction, right? Why don’t you show Georgia the way there?”
“Happy to,” Mel said, but Georgia failed to detect any happiness in her response.
“Thanks,” said Georgia. Dropping off a lost cat and her kittens to a family who thought they were gone forever? If only she could get that news crew to come back to get some footage of this. And maybe a shot or two of the gorgeous vet cradling some very adorable animals.
She watched as Mel grabbed her jacket from behind the reception desk. This was supposed to be a break from work. But all of a sudden, Mel Carter had Georgia’s mind on overdrive.
Mel knew very well she should have thanked Georgia. Probably profusely, for going out of her way like she did. Heck, she’d been in the business long enough to know that some people were downright cruel to animals. It tapped into an anger deep inside her that propelled her to go to work every day. Taking care of those animals that were turned away, who were so humble and so brave despite their circumstances. Nothing deserved her attention more than that.
She’d once thought of going into oncology, or even dentistry, but she thanked her lucky stars every day that she’d had the instinct to pursue veterinary medicine. There were lots of great humans, but there were lots of downright rotten ones too. Mel knew that well enough, and every day tried to silence the voice in her head that told her she attracted the bad ones. So, she was more than fine to devote 100 percent of her energy to those beings that were 100 percent deserving of all the attention and care in the world.
Mel had never seen this Georgia woman before. She’d grown up in Sunset County and knew the whole town, as well as the seasonal cottagers. Not only had she never seen or heard of her, but she stuck out in a way that was intriguing but set off more than one alarm bell. Firstly, her smooth skin had a hint of a summer glow that wasn’t common in these parts toward the end of October. Then, there was the fairly impractical nature of her attire, which, granted, caused Mel’s eyes to linger maybe a moment or two too long, but didn’t align with the usual jeans and fleece pullovers sported by most in the area. Georgia appeared as though she’d stepped right out of the pages of one of those fashion magazines her sister, Andie, always had lying around her place, the ones Mel teased her for with their headlines of “How to Own It in the Bedroom and the Boardroom!” or “Get Clear Skin from the Inside Out!”
She held open the shelter door for Georgia, then followed her to the street. “You can follow me in your car. It’s only a few minutes up the road.” She looked at Georgia’s Audi, which had a sticker from the car rental company on the bumper. “Hope you’re not planning on staying in town too long. Those tires won’t cut it up here once the snow comes.”
Georgia fished her keys out of her purse. “The guy at the rental company told me they’re ‘all season.’”
Mel knew her last comment came across as unwelcoming. She’d been brought up better than that. “Where are you from?” she asked as Georgia unlocked her door and slid into the driver’s seat. The car was definitely impractical. But she looked great behind the wheel.
“LA.”
Now the tan made sense. “So, not much experience with winter.”
“Actually, I grew up right outside of Chicago. I know the drill. I’ll be gone by the time the bad weather comes.” She flashed Mel a quick smile.
So she was just passing through. Most Sunset County cottagers came from Toronto, but every now and then someone visited from farther afield. “That’s me,” Mel said, nodding to her silver pickup truck. “I’ll lead the way.”
Through her rearview mirror as she buckled her seat belt, Mel watched as Georgia applied lipstick, for whatever reason, and ran her hand through her silky, toffee-colored hair. Mel cleared her throat and shook her head. She’d lead Georgia to the Harris place and then be on her way. One thing Mel had always shared with animals was a strong sense of instinct. And her instinct was telling her that Georgia might be drop-dead gorgeous, but she was trouble. And when it came to fight, flight or freeze, Mel knew enough by this time in her life that flight left you with fewer problems in the long run.
She guided Georgia through the winding roads just outside of the Sunset County downtown, then pulled into the long gravel driveway leading to the Harris home. The family, clearly having received Seamus’s call, were all assembled on the front porch, waiting to welcome home their cherished pet. Hopefully they’d be ready to house six more. Mel slowed to a stop at the side of the driveway, and rolled down her window as Georgia pulled up beside her.
“Here we are,” Mel said. “Take care.”
“What, you’re not coming up?” Georgia asked. “What if they have any questions? I have absolutely no idea how to care for kittens.”
Mel considered. Georgia was right. She sighed, then shifted back into Drive. She’d stay for a few minutes to make sure the family was all set up to care for their new pets, then head back to her clinic in town to finish the pile of paperwork waiting for her. A tall, boring pile of paperwork. It felt like exactly the solution to how hyperaware she’d been feeling since Georgia O’Neill burst through the doors of the shelter, her magnetic energy awakening something in her that Mel had worked to stow away for the past three years. Ever since everything she believed in and the life she thought was a happy one turned out to be a complete sham. She had to get away from Georgia, despite a nagging desire to be closer to her side.
Mel navigated the rest of the way up the path to the house. The two little girls were jumping up and down on the front porch, huge grins on their faces. She sat for a moment, watching as Georgia removed the box from her backseat—did she have a seat belt around it?—then proudly handed the box over to the girls, who at their parents’ permission had run down from the porch, almost attacking Georgia. It was a pretty great scene. Mel struggled to keep herself from grinning, then got out of her truck.
“Molly!” the younger girl said, hoisting the mother cat out of the box and into her arms, as the other twin enveloped them both in a giant hug. “We thought you were gone forever.”
One of the girls separated herself from the hug and peered into the box. “Mommy, Daddy, look at the kittens! They’re so cute!” she exclaimed, carefully lifting one out of the box. “We’re keeping them, right?”
“We’ll see,” said the dad. “Seven is a lot of cats in one house.”
“Might be a bylaw infraction,” Mel said. Georgia shot her a look. Well, someone had to be the practical one, right?
“I’m sure we can find a home for a few of these cuties,” Mrs. Harris said, peering into the box. “We can’t thank you enough for finding Molly. There’ve been a lot of tears around here.”
“I’m just glad she found her way home,” Georgia said, her eyes sparkling. Mel swallowed hard as Georgia trailed her hand through her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back in a perfect thickness that Mel could easily imagine running her fingers through.
Georgia reached in and picked up the same orange-and-white kitten that had gotten stuck in her sweater earlier. “You’re home, little one,” she cooed, nuzzling the miniature animal against her face. Mel breathed in sharply at the idea of touching her perfect, tanned skin. It was time to leave.
“He likes you,” said one of the little girls to Georgia.
“Let us know if you want dibs on him. You can visit in the meantime,” their dad said.
Georgia laughed. “Oh, not me. I’m just in town for a bit. Good luck finding homes for them, though.”
After another minute of small talk and thank-yous, and a few instructions for care from Mel, the family waved goodbye and carried the box into their home, leaving Mel and Georgia standing outside together.
“There you go. Your noble deed for the day,” Mel said. “Collecting some good karma.”
“Ha!” Georgia said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t I need it.”
Mel didn’t know what that meant, and had no intention of probing, but it confirmed her instincts about Georgia O’Neill. Trouble.
“Alright, well, you enjoy your time with your aunt,” Mel said, turning toward her truck.
“Actually, she passed last month. I’m just here—well, I’m helping sort a couple of things out with her estate.”
Mel turned back. “Nanny?” she asked.
Georgia looked confused. “Her name was Nina. Nina Miller.”
“We all—” Mel took a moment to gather herself. “Everyone in town called her Nanny. She was like everyone’s grandma.”
“I didn’t know that.” She looked to the side when she said it. Had Georgia and her aunt been close? Maybe she just wasn’t telling the truth. Mel had never been good at detecting a lie, a crucial flaw that had only resulted in her getting burned. Torched, actually.
Georgia’s eyes flickered with sadness, and Mel softened. “Well, I’m sorry about your aunt. She was an amazing woman.” Georgia’s eyes welled up a bit. Mel had to get out of there. “Lots of helpful people in this town if you need anything.” It was the truth. Mel had only left Sunset County for a while to go to university and then vet school, and the familiar workings of the small town, and the way people took care of one another, were close to Mel’s heart.
Georgia was quiet, and Mel felt the pressure of her waiting for a better response, but she said nothing. She might have been raised to be polite, but she was no therapist.
“Okay, well, thanks for bringing me out here,” Georgia said. “Good luck with the rest of the animals at the shelter.” Once again, Mel felt the strong pull of the vulnerability that was showing through the cracks of Georgia’s confident, self-assured presentation. She watched as Georgia got in her car, and Mel returned the quick wave she offered as she drove away.
Mel heaved a big sigh as she got back into her truck, forcing herself to relax. But the way she was feeling? It might take a bit more than some deep breathing to recover from being around Georgia. She was a spark. The type that Mel knew could blur her judgment.
If Mel had learned anything in the past few years, it was that there were all sorts of ways that life could pull the rug out from under you. And she needed to stay on solid ground.
