Monique was a tall, gorgeous black woman, with dark skin and an amazing collection of wigs. Lauren thought of her as Brooklyn personified: She’d been born and raised in the Caribbean part of Flatbush—her parents were Haitian immigrants—and she had the hard-consonant cadence of a Brooklyn accent. She spoke five languages—English, Spanish, French, Creole, and some Arabic—which came in handy with customers. She was smart and punctual, a model employee, probably overqualified to be a barista, and Lauren valued her ease with customers.
After she finished cleaning the counter, Monique slung her bag over her shoulder and said, “I’m out. Hot date tonight.”
“Have fun!”
So Lauren was alone, closing down the café for the night when she got a text from Mitch, her old friend who ran a volunteer group that trapped and spayed or neutered feral cats in Brooklyn.
I’ve got a box of kittens. Can I bring them to you?
The Cat Café was close to capacity. Lauren had managed to adopt out a couple of cats that week to café patrons who had fallen in love but taking on any more at this stage would make things complicated.
Sadie walked over and tapped the back of Lauren’s leg with her paw. It was like she was trying to say, “Hey, dummy, take the kittens. You know you want to.”
“All right, all right,” Lauren said.
Sure. Bring them to the café.
Lauren sat near the counter and read a book while she waited. Mitch showed up a half hour later with a cardboard box in his hands. As Lauren let him in, she could hear little mews coming from the box.
“Oh, these guys are tiny,” she said as she took the box from Mitch.
Mitch looked around, probably taking in that the lights over the counter and in the cat room had been turned off. “Did you have plans tonight? You were closing up, weren’t you? I’m such an asshole. I didn’t mean to just barge in. You want me to bring these to the clinic?”
“No, no, this is fine.” She put the box down on the table she’d just been sitting at. “These look very young.” There were five kittens in the box who looked to be two or three weeks old. Not newborns, but still tiny and a little awkward. “They still need their mom.”
“Well, mom took off. These guys were abandoned. Plus, we were thinking it might be better to rescue these babies before they became feral. Find good homes for them.”
“I’m not sure kittens this young can live without a mom.”
Mitch frowned. He did a little shuffle with his feet, almost bashful. “I’ve rescued cats this young who did okay. They need a little extra care, but they should be good to be adopted in a few weeks.”
Sadie was alternately smelling Mitch’s shoes and looking up at the table. She hopped up on the chair and sniffed suspiciously. When one of the kittens mewed, Sadie looked startled.
“I don’t know about this,” Lauren said. “They’ll have to be hand-fed, probably. I don’t know if we have the resources for that here. I’ve read about kittens this young but haven’t raised any on my own.”
Mitch furrowed his brow. He was tall and broad, the sort of man who seemed to take up a lot of space, but he and Lauren had been friends long enough that she knew he was friendly, not at all threatening, as his size implied. Lauren didn’t know exactly how old he was, but she guessed mid-forties, with light brown hair that was thinning on top. Lauren suspected he had a bit of a crush on her, but she just didn’t see him that way.
But now he was frowning down at the box of kittens.
“I can ask next door for some bottles and…milk? Kitten formula? I don’t even know.” Lauren reached into the box and let one of the kittens nuzzle her hand. They each moved around with jerky kitten movements. “Can you tell if they are healthy?”
“I mean, I think so? I’m not a vet.”
No, but Lauren had access to vets. She sighed, thinking of Caleb.
Mitch let out a breath. “Sorry, I should have thought this through more. These guys will have to be separated from your other cats until they can be checked for worms and fleas and whatever else. I should have just brought these to the clinic. I just thought they might be more comfortable with you.”
“No, it’s okay, really.”
“All right. Are you going to be okay keeping an eye on these little guys? I should probably get back. There are a dozen new cats in the colony this week, and a couple of the volunteers are very new.”
“Yeah, I should be all right. I think Dr. Francis works Thursdays, so I’ll bring these guys next door and make sure they get checked out.”
“Cool. Thanks, Lauren. I appreciate it.”
“You’re coming to the adoption event Paige is running next week, right? Well, adoption event-slash-celebration of getting our liquor license finally. So we’ll have beer and wine at the event.”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.” He winked and left.
Lauren gathered her things from around the café and made sure the cats were all settled in for the night. She shut off the lights and walked over to the box on the table. The kittens were all still squirming and mewling…except for one. Lauren gasped and reached into the box. The little one didn’t seem to be breathing.
She locked up in a rush, tucked the box under her arm, and ran to the vet clinic.
Caleb was sitting at the reception desk, doing something on the computer when she walked in. Which was just fucking perfect, but she supposed she didn’t have a choice.
“I thought Doug worked on Wednesdays,” she said.
“Well, hello to you, too. Doug’s daughter
