Mari’s lips thin. “I know that,” she says softly. “But…just let a gal live a little, okay? My time has come and gone. Let me worry about you three.”
I furrow my brow. “Okay, we need to put a pin in that. Your time hasnotcome and gone.”
Her eyes grow misty. “Yes, it has, sweetie.” She pats me on the shoulder. “And that’s okay. I’m going to be an old cat lady, but I’ll have my girls with me. And my cats.”
“Mari, no. That is a ridiculous way to think,” I argue. “You are not old?—”
“Hey, Blair! Can you sign for this order?” Maeve interrupts, and I point my finger at Mari. “This conversation isnotover,” I say. “We’re discussing this later.”
Mari laughs softly. “Sure, kiddo.”
But when I go to finish my conversation with Mari after restocking the cat food pantry, she’s nowhere to be found.
The pack is late pickingme up.
Travis sent a text that they were on their way half an hour ago, and I try to ignore the irrational fear that burns in my chest.
“Maybe there’s traffic,” Piper says calmly. “Also, it’s raining. You know how people drive in the rain.”
“Uh-huh.”
I busy myself with organizing the paperwork from our recent adoptions.
There is absolutely nothing to be worried about.
Normally, the ride from the packhouse to the rescue is only fifteen minutes, but if they hit every red light and are behind a slow driver, it would make sense that they’re not here yet.
And the weather is bad.
Not as bad as the storm from the other week, and certainly not as bad as what happened two years ago, but it’s still not ideal.
“Just call them,” Piper adds from her computer.
“No. Not if they’re driving.”
Paperwork organized, I move on to folding up all the gorgeous donated blankets.
I run my finger over the stitching, wondering who the anonymous donor could be.
Another fifteen minutes pass, and my knuckles are white from gripping the front counter. I pretend to be fine, leaning against the reception area, but Piper notices the way my hands are clenched.
“If you don’t call them, I will,” she says. “Just to check. Blair-bear, I’msurethere’s traffic or something.”
“Maybe they’re stopping to buy you a present first,” Maeve adds sweetly. She’s perched on the counter with a clipboard, updating our inventory. “This is your first dinner all together, right?”
I nod. “Yeah,” I croak.
I’m being irrational.
Everything is fine.
They’re safe.
“I’ll call them if they don’t show up in like, twenty minutes,” I acquiesce. “They’re probably stuck in traffic.”
But unless that traffic is a semi-truck on fire in the middle of the freeway, there’s something else holding them up.
“This is ridiculous,” I snarl, shaking my hands and trying to release the tension in my body. “I’m being ridiculous. I need to snap out of this.”
