“We don’t mind taking care of the critters,” Grandma said cheerfully. “We love cats.”
“Well, good for you.” Lila began making herself a coffee just as the bell over the door jingled and customers filed in.
The three women got to work. Thankfully, Irene and Paddy had taken to the espresso machine after a few practice runs. And the rest were doing all right with the blender, making iced drinks and frappes. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be another disaster like those first few days.
They served customers, tidied the front, and that’s when TJ arrived, cat crates in hand.
“Oh dear,” Lila murmured. “Here we go.”
“Are they that misbehaved?” Grandma asked.
“No, it’s just one more thing to worry about,” Lila said. “Tilly and Jack
“Don’t worry, child. We’ll look after them.” Grandma turned back to fill a cup with dark roast and pass it off to a customer.
TJ came around the counter with a grin. “Well, where do you want the little troublemakers?”
“Follow me,” Irene said, leading him toward the back.
A few minutes later, three cats—Muffin, Espresso, and Pudding—came trotting up the hall and into the shop. They headed straight for the cat tree by the window, each hopping onto a favorite perch. Tilly and Jack had a special license
“Well, maybe it won’t be so bad if they hang out over there,” Lila muttered.
“What’s the matter?” TJ asked. “Don’t you like cats?”
“Oh, I like them, but the one I have is over the top obnoxious. Coming to work, I get a break.” She smiled. “Okay, he’s not that bad.”
“I see,” he drawled, “Well, I’m the cat wrangler, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “A little different from wrangling horses, isn’t it?”
“Quite. And I’d much rather wrangle cats, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. But I don’t know about the others,” she said in a low voice.
He glanced toward Grandma and Irene, who were busy putting pies in the front display case. “Where did those come from?”
“We baked them,” Grandma said with a bright smile. “Just tell us when you want a slice.”
Lila blinked. “You brought in homemade pies?”
TJ shrugged. “Why not?”
“We’ve already sold slices of the first two,” Irene said proudly.
“Who said you could bring in pies?” Lila demanded.
“We did, of course.” Grandma arched a brow. “Why do you think business was so good this morning?”
“Yeah,” Irene said. “We’re charging five dollars a slice!”
Lila facepalmed. “Oh my goodness, Tilly is going to kill us!”
“You can handle food here, can’t you?” TJ asked. “They’re licensed for it?”
“Well, yes, but any food sold is brought in because of the cats. Tilly has a licensed kitchen at home and buys pastries of a few vendors. But pies?” She groaned. “Where did you bake them?”
“At the inn, of course,” Grandma said.
