Masquerade (23 page)

Crash!

Celeste’s head shot up. A tangled mess of metal. She pulled the cart back, then locked eyes with a tall, blond-haired man whom she immediately recognized. What on earth was he doing here? Of all places.

His thumbs smoothed the lapels of his double-breasted trench coat, the color of wet sand. With piercing blue eyes, he scrutinized Celeste.

Warmth flooded her face. “Don? Don Collins?”

“Celeste Waite. So good to see you. How are you doing?” One foot rested on the bottom cart bar while his hands gripped the handle. No wedding ring. A grin tip-toed across his lips, erupting into a full-blown smile.  

She gulped down a glob of something stuck in her throat and fingered her wedding band. Hardly in the frame of mind to enter into discussion with this guy, she pondered  how  to excuse herself  politely.  She could say

she had an emergency, but then he’d probably probe
for details
or offer to help. She could tell the truth—she had kittens that couldn’t be left waiting. They needed milk and a mother. She’d have to provide both. But that would most likely sound silly to this man. Flustered, she gnawed the inside of her cheek.

“I haven’t seen you in what, seven years or so? And you still chew your cheek.” He leaned on his cart. He lowered his head and pulled his earlobe, then looked at her again. “I’m sorry, I’ve embarrassed you.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then released it slowly. “I’m just surprised to see you. Caught off guard, I guess.”

“Well, me, too. I didn’t know you lived here.”

“I teach at The Brighton Center, special education.”

“Wonderful. Good to hear that.” He nodded like a bobble head doll, a lopsided smile emerging once more.

“And you?” She raised her eyebrows.

An elderly man with stooped shoulders tried to pass him, and Don scooted his cart closer to Celeste
.
“I joined the practice over at Schreiber Medical Clinic. I moved to town a few months ago.”

His closeness unsettled her, and she stepped back. He was as handsome as ever with hair parted on the side and casually feathered back. No longer the thin beanpole, he’d filled out nicely to accommodate his height. “Is that the family practice by the hospital?”

“That’s the one.”

She scratched the side of her neck. “You know, I’d really  better  get going.  I’ve got some things I need to do.

But, hey, great to see you.”
Nice lie.
She fanned her left hand, exposing her ring.

“Say, you’re married. Congratulations. How long?”

She cleared her throat. “Five years now.”

“Wow. Seems like forever since our Purdue days. A lot has happened since then.”

“That’s for sure.” Her gaze flitted to a circular display where a woman with a turquoise scarf on her head picked out a bunch of bananas.

“Well, say hello to your husband. Do I know him?” He tossed a head of lettuce into his cart.

“Uh, no.” Another lie. Don was a year ahead of her and Joe, but he’d known her boyfriend. He’d often teased Celeste that if she ever grew tired of Joe, he’d be waiting. She inched her cart forward. “Good luck with your practice.”

“Thanks. If you need a family doctor, give the clinic a call.” With another lopsided grin, he tipped his head and wheeled away.

Heart fluttering, she gulped down air. She didn’t plan on going anyway near Don Collins’ office. How embarrassing. Besides, she already had a good family doctor.

Hands shaking, she forced her cart down the aisle and into the dairy section where she chose a gallon of milk over the half gallon. Cheaper in the long run. She could freeze half the milk for later use.

Up ahead a teenage boy worked through a stack of boxes, carefully unloading and placing cartons of eggs in the refrigerator section.

Perfect! She wheeled her ornery cart beside the teen. “Could I have one of those empty boxes?”

He nodded and grunted something she couldn’t make out.

“Thanks.” She angled the box inside the cart and hurried to gather the rest of her items.

Back at home, the sun slid behind the oak trees, casting a pinkish hue on the horizon. Her gaze fluttered to the street. Good, someone must have removed the cat from the road. She checked the mailbox. Bills and another letter from Mother. Persistent woman. Celeste would give her that. She hadn’t written to her mother since their falling out at Thanksgiving. And her father, as usual, remained quietly tucked away in the background, most likely doing what he did best—work.

She carried her supplies into the kitchen and tossed the mail onto the table. A warm blanket for the box, that’s what she needed. She tapped her cheek, then scurried to Joe’s closet. She ripped a flannel shirt off a hanger and charged back into the kitchen. If anything could comfort these homeless kitties, it was Joe’s shirt. She buried her face in the soft material which once covered her Joe, then placed it in the box and snugged the material into the corners.

Wait a minute—something to warm them, like an incubator. She snapped her fingers and strode to the bathroom. After retrieving a towel, she moved to the bedroom and yanked the cord of her heating pad out of the outlet. On her way out, she grabbed a small travel clock off the vanity.

Back in the kitchen, she tucked the pad, then the towel directly under the shirt and laid the clock in a corner of the box. Perhaps the ticking would simulate the mother cat’s heartbeat. “Okay, kittens, your new home is ready.” She stepped toward the back door. “Oh wait, I need a dropper for the milk.”

Darting to the bathroom, she swung open the medicine cabinet and searched for a bottle. On the second shelf sat a small container with dark-colored glass. Joe’s eye drops. He’d used them every spring to fight his allergies. According to the label, the drops were long past expiration date. It didn’t matter—he wouldn’t need them anymore. A sick sensation gripped her stomach, then passed as she forced herself to stay on task.

After she unscrewed the lid, she dumped the remaining contents down the sink and rinsed out the dropper with hot, soapy water. One final rinse and she headed outside with the box to transfer her babies to their neonatal nursery.

No mother cat—her suspicions confirmed. One by one she lifted the tiny fur balls and gently placed them in the box. She hoped the rescue wasn’t too late. It had only been a few hours since she and Lily discovered the litter, but who knew when they’d been born. That morning, or earlier?

She’d do whatever she could to save them. That likely meant feeding them every two hours around the clock, just as she would a newborn human. Carrying her charges, she hurried back to the kitchen, set the box on the table, and  plugged in the  heating pad on  low.  These

babies needed warmed up, and quick.

After she set a small saucepan of milk on the burner, the phone trilled. She breezed past the table and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl, I need your opinion.” The voice belonged to Lorna.

Multiple needy creatures in one day were sapping Celeste’s strength, but she’d suck it up and humor the woman. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a hot date tonight. Should I wear mauve to bring out the color in my cheeks or emerald to bring out the green in my eyes?”

From neonatal nurse to color analyst, all in one evening. However did she manage that? “May I recommend the book,
Color Me a Season?”

“Actually, I’m reading that right now, well, not this very minute, but I checked it out of the library this week, and I’ve been devouring the information.”

“So, what season do you think you are?”

“Well, that’s the trouble, I’m pretty certain I’m a summer, you know, pale, transparent, colorless skin.”

“Okay.” Tapping her foot now and glancing toward the stove.

“But I’d rather be a spring—rosy and radiant.”

“You are what you are, Lorna, and that’s okay.” She’d morphed into a therapist. “Wear the mauve, oh colorless-cheeked one. It will help you look rosy.”

Rats, the phone cord won’t reach to the stove.

The click of what sounded like metal hangers. “Or maybe pale green, the shade of new grass. I have a blouse

here that might—”

“Lorna, I have milk on the burner that’s probably overheated by now. I better go check.”

“Sure, I’ll hold.”

Celeste rolled her eyes and set the receiver on the phone table. At the stove, she tapped the milk. Too hot to drink. She extinguished the flame, peeked at her babies, then padded back to the phone.

Smacking and popping on the other end. “Are you chewing gum?”

“Yeah, I always chew gum when I’m nervous. Beats getting drunk, especially before a first date.”

“Do I know this guy?” Even as the words flew out of her mouth, Celeste regretted saying them. She had endangered felines to tend to.

“No, I don’t think so. I met him at the dry cleaners.”

Oh brother. “Be careful. How much do you really know about this man?”

“Enough for now. I’ll learn more tonight.” She snickered. Celeste didn’t even want to think about what “learn more” meant to Lorna. “So, what’s with the warm milk? Trying out a new recipe?”

“Hardly. I discovered newborn kittens in our . . . my garage this afternoon. Kittens without a mother, on top of that.”

A whistle over the phone line.

“Yeah, that’s what I say. You know anything about caring for kittens this young?”

“Not much, but I do know you shouldn’t feed them cow’s milk. Goat’s milk is better. You got a tiny bottle?”

She swiped a hand over her hair. “No, only a dropper.”

“Hmm . . . hole’s too big. Might flood the baby’s lungs. I’d call the Humane Society.”

Her eyes flit to the wall clock. “It’s seven-fifteen. They’d probably be closed by now.”

“Egads! I gotta get going. Ted’s picking me up in fifteen minutes. Make-up, check. Hair, check. Now the outfit. Keep me posted on the kitty litter.” She chuckled. “Bye for now.”

“Right. Bye.” After placing the receiver back on the hook, she moved to the box. She’d think of something. Even though she’d never had cats while growing up—Mother wouldn’t hear of it—she remembered a lady who lived down the road and often took in stray or orphaned cats. She’d used a heating pad and clock, but what did she feed them? This animal rescue was going to be harder than she anticipated.

She slid the box off the table, carried it into her bedroom, and placed it on the vanity. A gut feeling told her it might be best to keep the kittens out of the direct light of the kitchen. She touched their tummies. Still breathing. But for how long? Her bedroom was now the critical care unit, and time was of the essence.

Critical care unit. Don. Surely, he’d know what to do. But she couldn’t contact him. Crazy idea. Besides, he might be busy. She plucked at her eyebrow. Still, to locate a vet open at this hour would be a challenge as well.

She swallowed hard and dashed for the phone book, but  then  thought the  better of it.  A  quicker route

might be 411 Directory Services. Hopefully, Don had lived in Schreiber long enough to be listed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

              “You’re in luck. I’m not on call this weekend.” Don’s strong voice sounded over the phone. “I’ll be right over. 321 Maple you said?”

              “Yes.” She resisted the urge to chew the inside of her cheek. “I really hate to put you out like this.”

              “You’re not putting me out. Glad to help. Actually, I don’t live that far from you.”

              “Okay, see you in a bit then.” The line went dead, and she relaxed her grip on the receiver. She exhaled, tapped the earpiece to her forehead. What a blubbering idiot she must have sounded like.

              Well, no matter. Her first responsibility was to the kittens, and their lives were in her hands. She shuffled back to the babies and unplugged the heating pad. She couldn’t very well usher Don into her bedroom. The well-lit kitchen would be much better, and safer, for examining the tiny patients.

              “Hang on, little ones.” She stooped to pick up the box.

              In the kitchen, Mother’s letter gaped at her as she placed the box on the table. The woman would gloat over Don’s    reintroduction  into   Celeste’s  life.  Though   her