“The black one is starting to open its eyes.” She glanced over at Josie. “I should stop asking, right?”
Josie gave her an apologetic look. “Everyone’s got their hands full right now. It’s a busy season for animal rescuers. I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
She sighed, tamping back her frustration with the situation. She was just so tired.
“You can put them in my apartment while you’re here, though,” Josie told her. “And I’ll help you with them as much as I can.”
“I appreciate that.” Eve set her briefcase on the bar and slid onto the stool in front of it, wincing at the spasm of pain that slid up her spine.
“You okay?” Josie asked.
“Just a bad back.” She pressed a hand against it. “An old injury that I’ve aggravated by carrying this damn box of kittens all over town.”
“I’m sorry,” Josie murmured. “Why don’t we go upstairs? It can’t be comfortable for you to sit on a barstool when your back is bothering you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but sitting for hours on a hard wooden stool did sound tortuous, and Swanson’s didn’t open until five. “All right. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Josie scooped up the box of kittens, pausing to lock the front door before she led the way toward the staircase in back. “We can make a video of them while we’re at it. I need to introduce them to my viewers so they can start voting on names.”
“If you like.” She followed Josie up the stairs, settling across from her on the couch with the box of kittens on the table between them. The orange cat Eve had seen the last time she was here walked through the room and hopped up on the couch beside Josie.
She reached over to rub him. “This is Nigel. Don’t worry. He won’t bother the kittens.”
“Is he one of your former foster kittens?”
“Yeah.” Josie laughed as Nigel hopped into her lap. “One of my first, and the only one I’ve kept.”
“Lucky cat,” Eve commented.
Josie nodded with an affectionate smile at the cat in question. “So, what are we supposed to be doing this afternoon, exactly?”
“We need to go over all the particulars for filming, and then I’ll observe you once the bar opens. The film crew will be here around six and will stay for an hour or two, getting some initial footage.”
“Tuesdays are my least busy day of the week,” Josie said, brow wrinkling.
“That’s for the best, then, isn’t it?” Eve told her. “No offense, but we want to show the viewers how badly Swanson’s is doing so they can appreciate its transformation at the end of the segment.”
“Right,” Josie said, blinking as if the reality of what she’d signed up for had just fully hit her.
“The photos that you used in your application,” Eve said. “The ones of you and your father that show how you grew up in the bar. Where are those?”
Josie’s lips quirked. “So you did see my application.”
“Last week,” Eve told her.Don’t read anything into it.
“They’re in an album,” Josie said, gesturing toward a shelf along the far wall.
“We’ll want to film those, and I’ll ask you about him while the camera crew is here.”
Josie blew out a breath, looking down at the cat curled across her lap. “I meant it last week when I told you to sensationalize his death, but…”
“That’s not my intention, but we do need to tell your story. It’s a big part of the draw forDo Over, and as you noted, viewers like a sad story with a feel-good ending.”
“And you’re still confident we’ll get that happy ending?”
“I am.”
“Then let’s do it,” Josie said with a definitive nod.
