***
A week later Ben announced that George had been with us two years and Henry one year. "I think we ought to have a little celebration."
"Celebrate what? Our survival?" I was suffering from sleep deprivation.
"Come on, it's not that bad." He could say so, of course, since I was back on night duty for Henry. "We could celebrate their anniversaries by opening a bottle of wine for ourselves and cans of something extra deluxe for all three of the fur people."
The anniversary boys were curled up beside Nicky on the veranda, basking in the sun. In spite of cat hair in the soup, dog hair on the sofa and interrupted sleep, I couldn't imagine life without these furry creatures who'd brought so much wit and playfulness into our lives. They surprised us almost every day with new pranks or cleverness.
"I have another idea," Ben said. "Instead of wine, let's open that bottle of single malt scotch we've been saving for a special occasion."
"You're talking serious celebration."
"I'm talking serious discussion," Ben said.
I'd been waiting for him to say something. Our two years on the farm was up, give or take a week, and it was time to decide whether to stay or move back to Victoria. I knew what I wanted to do.
Ben poured us each a generous measure of the single malt and we toasted the sleeping animals and each other.
"My decision will be a celebration for you, Holly," Ben said. "This market gardening venture won't succeed unless I build a greenhouse and pipe in a reliable source of water. That will cost a bundle and we don't have it."
"We have enough income to live on."
"But not much more than that. We could borrow against the farm, but if we had a bad year, how would we pay the mortgage?"
"So you're saying you want to move back to Victoria?"
"No," Ben said, "I'm not saying that at all. I'd give my right arm to stay here but we made an agreement. I can't make the garden a success unless I spend a lot of money on it and I know you'd rather be in the city. So the experiment has failed on both counts."
He looked so sad that I wanted to comfort him, but I needed answers to a couple of questions first. "Where would you get enough water to keep the garden going?"
"Ken Dyckman's property goes way back up into the hills and there's a fair-sized lake up there. When he started raising cattle, he built a pipeline down to his yard. He told me I could tap into his supply as long as I paid for ditching and piping and all the rest of it."
"How much would it cost? And how much to build a greenhouse?"
Ben gave me a figure. "Why do you want to know? I can't see any point in even discussing it."
I smiled. "Because half of the experiment succeeded. When I was in Aunt Peggy's house at New Year's, I had a sort of revelation. I realized that I'd come to love life on the farm and the island. That I liked my island friends as much as my city friends. That this is home… "
The rest of my words were buried in Ben's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged until I was breathless. I felt a drop of moisture on my scalp and nearly burst into tears myself.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ben demanded.
"Because I wasn't sure. I fought the idea of living on a farm for so many years that I was afraid my revelation was just a momentary blip. It's taken me most of the last three months to accept that I do love this place."
Ben moved away, scowling, and I knew he was trying to disguise the fact that his eyes were still wet. "Are you willing to risk a mortgage then?"
"We don't have to do that," I said. "Last week I phoned my tenants and they're going to buy Aunt Peggy's house. There'll be more than enough money for a pipeline and a greenhouse."
Ben came back and put his hands on my shoulders. "Are you sure? Are you sure you want to spend your inheritance on the farm?"
"Absolutely. But there's one condition."
"Anything at all," he said, draining his glass.
"I want two Siamese kittens."
"Two!" Ben stared at me. "That's blackmail! You said one at New Year's."
"Two will be twice as much fun."
"Uh huh. And double the vet fees, the annual shots and the flea medicine. And double the food." Ben gave a mock groan. "You know what my other New Year's resolution should have been? To do the budget in pencil!"
"But think what all those pencils would cost."
Ben beamed. "Have as many damn kittens as you like. This really is a celebration! Want another scotch?"
"You bet I do! I have two other reasons for celebrating, you know. One is that my two cat poems were accepted. The letter came this morning." I pulled it out of my pocket where I'd hidden it, waiting for an appropriate moment to brag.
He hugged me again and grinned. "That's fantastic! So, are you going to write some more?"
"I might, but now I've got the chance to do some writing and actually get paid for it."
He looked surprised. "You have? Where?"
"I ran into Scott West, the publisher of the Adriana Advocate, in the grocery store the other day. I told him about getting the poems published and he asked me if I'd write a column."
"Wow! That's terrific. Did you say yes?"
"No, but I will now that we've decided to stay here."
"My wife the newspaper reporter," Ben said. "What are you going to write about, the cats?"
"No. The column will be called Tidelines and be about what's happening on the island."
"Gossip, you mean."
"Well, not about who's dating who. More like business gossip, who's selling, who's buying, who's trying to start something new and why, and what I think about it."
"I'll bet you end up writing about the cats."
"I have no idea what I'm going to write about. Which is why I love the idea of this job. Who knows where it will lead me?"
"Wouldn't suit me," Ben said. "I like to know what I'm doing and where I'm going."
"No kidding!" I curled up in my favorite chair. "Now that the farm is a forever thing, it really is time we named the place."
"You've thought of one, haven't you?" Ben said.
"Yes. How about The Funny Farm?" I had to giggle at the horrified look on his face.
"No way!"
"I was only teasing. What about Holly Haven?"
Ben's eyes misted up again. "Is that actually how you feel about it?"
"Yes."
"Then that's what we'll call it. I wonder if Cal could make a sign for us out of cedar."
"He could certainly weave one out of wool."
"Holly, are you sure you need a second scotch?"
"I'm positive. Only I've decided this one won't be for celebration but for drowning my sorrows."
Ben stared at me. "What sorrows?"
"I've had to give up my dreams of being Head Cat. His Supreme Majesty, Georgius Felinus Rex, refuses to recognize my status. How am I going to survive another ten or fifteen years as a mere head slave?"
Ben looked thoughtfully at our sleeping friends. "And I doubt I'll ever be anything but a lowly houseboy."
"So are you going to pour another scotch?"
"I think we deserve it. But, on second thought, I'm not so sure about giving the royals a deluxe dinner. After all, George still owes us for a set of curtains.