“Sometime this week, cat lady. I’ve got patients.”
Lauren scooped up the bag and headed toward the door.
***
Caleb hadn’t seen the cat room on his previous trip to the Cat Café, but he walked through it now, following Lauren to the back room where she kept supplies. It was a lot. The design was kind of retro, the colors bright and a bit garish. It read more kindergarten classroom than place for cats to live, but what did he know? And there were at least a dozen cats lounging around the room, hanging out with the six or so customers Caleb counted in a glance.
“Your vacuum must get a workout,” he said, observing the cats draped on the arms of the sofa on one side of the room.
“Yeah, we have to vacuum at least twice a day, usually just before we open and right after we close. Sometimes more.”
The plump cat who hung out near the counter—Sadie, if he recalled correctly—followed them into the back room and eyed Caleb as he deposited the sack of cat food into the bin on the shelf Lauren indicated. Lauren slid the top of the bin into place and secured it.
“The plastic keeps curious cats out. You’d think nothing could jump up to a shelf this high, but some of these cats have springs for legs.”
“Sure.”
“Come on, Sadie. You don’t need to hang out in the supply room.”
Sadie let out a squeaky meow of protest but followed Lauren out of the room. As did Caleb.
Lauren paused to speak with a couple of people who were sitting at a table. Caleb wondered if he should just leave. That felt rude, but it wasn’t like he and Lauren were on great terms anyway.
He approached her slowly and cleared his throat, not wanting to interrupt her conversation. She turned toward him and met his gaze but didn’t say anything. Her expression said,Oh, are you still here?Which, great. He felt so grateful to be appreciated.
He sighed and said, “You’re welcome.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Patients.” He pointed to the wall that separated the café from the vet clinic.
“Of course. See you, Caleb.”
He nodded, clearly dismissed, but paused at the doorway to try to figure out the puzzle of this particular establishment. Lauren spoke with a strawberry blond who smiled a lot and gestured toward her companion, a skinny guy with dark hair and tattoos. A diverse range of customers sat at tables or on sofas, chatting and petting the cats as if this were a totally normal thing to do. And maybe it was, but in their own houses. Why didn’t these people just get cats? If the great number of patients at the vet clinic were anything to go by, this neighborhood was pretty pet friendly.
Caleb spared a thought for Hank the dog. He suspected Rachel was not really going out of her way to advertise that the dog was up for adoption, so he’d still be at the clinic at Caleb’s deadline. Caleb wasn’t really sure he wanted a dog in his apartment, although hadn’t he just reasoned to himself that if people really wanted cats, they should just adopt cats?
Caleb shook his head and left the café.
Chapter 6
Monique frowned at Sadie, who was napping on the counter. The customers were gone for the day, but Monique said, “This seems unsanitary.”
Lauren laughed. She walked over and picked all fifteen pounds of Sadie up. She got a squeaky little meow of protest, but Sadie turned around a few times and went back to sleep when Lauren placed her in the cat bed in the corner.
“One of these days, the health department is going to shut this whole thing down,” Monique said, shaking her head.
“I mean, technically, as long as the cats are separated from where we prepare and serve food, we’re okay. Or that’s what the fancy lawyer Diane hired said when she opened this place. I made an exception for Sadie, but if she gets into the food, we’ll force her to hang out with the other cats during business hours.” Lauren knelt and pet Sadie’s head. Sadie’s huge purr rolled out in response. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Sadie?”
Monique laughed softly. Of all the baristas at the Cat Café, Monique was the one Lauren trusted the most. She’d been working at the café almost since the beginning, and Lauren wanted to promote her as soon as she could find enough money in the budget to pay for her raise.
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.
