Finding the Dream

  She took the picture in her mind, slipped it into her heart.

  "Look, Mama!" Kayla was already shouting as Laura started toward them. "Come quick and look at the little puppy. He must be lost."

  "He doesn't look lost to me."

  "He has a leash." Ali giggled—a sound Laura could never hear often enough—as he scrambled into her lap. "Maybe he ran away from home."

  "I don't think so. He is home. He's ours."

  Ali simply stared. "But we can't have pets."

  With a smile, Laura adjusted her boxes. "He doesn't seem to agree with you."

  "Do you mean it?" Kayla rose. The expression of stunned joy on her face carved itself into Laura's heart. "Do you mean he can be our puppy and we can keep him? Forever?"

  "That's exactly what I mean."

  "Mama!" In one leap, Kayla had her arms wrapped around her mother's waist. She clung hard, fierce. "Mama, thank you. I'll take such good care of him. You'll see."

  "I know you will, honey." She looked over at Ali, who remained still, staring. "We all will. He needs a good home and lots of love. We'll give him that, won't we, Ali?"

  Inner conflict held her back. Her father had said pets were a nuisance, messy. They shed hair all over the rug. But the puppy was sniffing at her leg, wagging his tail and trying to jump into her arms.

  "We'll take good care of him," she said solemnly. She started to step forward, stopped. Her mouth went lax in shock. "Mama, your pockets are moving."

  "Oh." With a laugh, Laura set her boxes down, reached in and plucked out two furry balls, one silken gray and the other sassy orange, from her pockets. "What have we here?"

  "Kittens?" Kayla squealed, grabbed. "Kittens. We have kittens, too! Look, Ali, we have everything."

  "They're so tiny." Gently, cautiously, Ali took the mewling gray. "Mama, they're so tiny."

  "They're just babies. Just over six weeks old." Every bit as much in love as her daughters were, Laura stroked a fingertip down the sleepy gray. "They needed a home too."

  "It's really all right?" Half afraid to hope, Ali looked up into her mother's eyes. "It's really all right for us to keep them all?"

  "It's really all right."

  "More!" Tuning in to the sounds coming from the cardboard boxes, Kayla pounced.

  "No, those aren't ours. Those are barn cats, for Michael."

  "I'll take them to him." Desperate to share her fabulous news with anyone who would listen, Kayla handed her kitten to Ali and hefted both boxes by the straps. Grunting a little, she headed toward the stables. "Come on, cats. Come on, I'll take you home."

  "Do they have names?"

  "Hmm." Absently Laura stroked her daughter's hair, then made herself look away from the comical picture of Kayla, bobbling along with two boxes full of impatient felines and a puppy racing around her legs in clumsy, big-footed circles. "They will have, when we pick them out."

  "Can I name one myself? Pick out the name all by myself? For the little gray kitten?" Ali lifted it to her cheek.

  "Of course you can. What name would you like?''

  "Is it a boy or a girl?"

  "It's—I don't know," Laura realized. "I forgot to ask. It's probably on one of the papers I filled out." With one arm around Ali's shoulders, she walked after Kayla. "The puppy's a boy, and both big cats are boys because that's what Michael wanted."

  "Because he likes boys better?"

  Uh-oh. "No, honey. I guess he figured tomcats would be meaner, and he wanted mousers."

  Her eyes went huge. "He's going to let them eat mice?"

  "Baby, I'm afraid that's what cats do."

  Ali pressed the little ball of fluff to her cheek. "Mine won't."

  Kayla's voice was already echoing in high, excited chirps, accented by the yaps of the pup, who had raced inside the stables with her. When Laura stepped in and her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw Michael and Kayla crouched together on the brick floor, taking stock of Templeton House's new mutt.

  "Looks like a good dog to me," Michael stated, giving the pup an energetic scratch between the ears.

  "So you can teach him tricks, right, Mr. Fury? How to sit and play dead and shake?"

  "I expect."

  The pup sniffed curiously at one of the cat boxes and was rewarded with a spitting hiss. Yelping, he streaked away and cringed behind Laura's legs.

  "He's already learned something." With a grin, Michael opened the first box. "Don't mess with a cornered torn. No, honey." Michael took Kayla's hand before she could reach in to pet the cat. "I doubt he's in a friendly mood at the moment. Don't like being cooped up there, do you, big guy? Let's get you and your pal out."

  He opened the other box, then drew Kayla back. "We'll just let them get the lay of the land. Once they've catted around some, they'll settle in." His eyes skimmed over Laura, lingered, then moved on. "Whatcha got there, Ali?"

  "Kittens." Ali's hands and heart were full of them already. "Mama brought us kittens too."

  "Fuzzy little kitties." As he walked to them, he ran his tongue around his teeth. "Cute."

  "Mama said I could name the gray one myself."

  "Then I get to name the orange one." Staking her claim, Kayla took the orange kitten out of Ali's hand and nuzzled it against her cheek. "Don't I, Mama?"

  "Fair enough. We'll have a naming marathon after dinner. We'll just get out of Mr. Fury's way—"

  "Can't we show the kittens to Max? Can't we?"

  "Sure you can." Michael winked at Kayla. "He's a real softie." When the girls raced off, the pup at their heels, Michael shook his head. "What the hell have you done, Laura?"

  "Made my girls very happy." She pushed back her hair. "And saved five lives in the bargain. Do you have a problem with kittens and puppies?"

  "Nope." The cats had leaped out of their boxes and were slinking around, growling softly. Michael reached over and stroked the nose of his sober gelding. "You ever do anything halfway?"

  "I've been known to." She unbent enough to smile. "I couldn't stop myself. If you'd seen the girls' faces when I told them that silly little dog was theirs… I'll never forget it."

  With the same absent affection he'd shown the gelding, Michael stroked her cheek. He didn't know if he was amused or annoyed when she jerked like a spring. "You need some training yourself."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You shy easy. I appreciate you picking up the cats for me," he said before she could think of a response.

  "No trouble. The whole lot of them need to go to the vet. Shots. Neutering."

  "Ouch!" In a knee-jerk male reaction, he winced. "Yeah, I guess that's the deal."

  "It's the responsible choice—and it's required when you adopt from the shelter. I have all the paperwork. Except I—"

  "What?"

  "Well, I didn't think to ask about the sex of the kittens. I don't know if they told me. It started to get complicated and confusing, and I think I've heard that it's difficult to tell with young kittens."

  It took an effort, but he kept his eyes solemn. "I've always heard you shake 'em. If they don't rattle, they're female."

  It took her a moment. Then she broke into easy, appreciative laughter. "I'll be sure to try it. When the girls aren't around."

  "There you are. I don't suppose I've heard you laugh like that more than a half a dozen times since I've known you. You were always being too dignified when I was around."

  "I'm sure you're mistaken."

  "Sugar, I don't make many mistakes when it comes to women."

  "No, I don't imagine you would." To give herself a moment to make her retreat—yes, damn it, a dignified retreat—she turned to the gelding. "This is a handsome horse."

  "He's smart. Quiet-natured. Jack?"

  At his name the horse pricked his ears. Soberly, he turned his head to Michael. "How old are you, Jack?"

  In response, the horse stomped a foot four times.

  "What do you think of the lady here?"

  Jack rolled his eyes toward Laura and let out a quiet
and undeniably roguish whinny.

  Charmed, Laura laughed again. "How do you get him to do that?"

  "Jack? He understands every word you say. Want to take the lady for a ride, Jack?" The response was a decisive nod. "See?" Michael turned his own swift—and undeniably roguish grin—on Laura. "Want a ride, lady?"

  "I—" God, she would love one, love to feel a horse beneath her again, let it have its head. Let herself lose hers. "I'd enjoy that, but I don't have the time." She offered Michael a polite, distant smile. "I'll take a rain check."

  "Cash it in whenever you like." Too used to Thoroughbreds, he assumed, and shrugged. He'd take Jack over some finicky purebred any day.

  "Thank you. I'd better get my motley crew inside. That is, if Annie lets us inside."

  "She's a tough nut, Mrs. Sullivan."

  "She's family," Laura corrected. "But I should have warned her before I started a small zoo."

  "That small zoo is going to keep you up most of the night."

  "I'll manage."

  She managed, but it wasn't a walk in the park. The puppy whimpered and whined and, despite Kayla's lavish love, was satisfied with nothing less than Laura's bed. She knew it was a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to banish him when he cuddled so hopefully against her side.

  The kittens mewed, fretted, cried, and eventually were comforted by each other, and the hot water bottle that an already doting Annie provided.

  As a result, Laura was gritty-eyed and foggy-brained the next morning.

  She fumbled at the keyboard in her office at the hotel, cursed herself, then focused on the file for an upcoming writers' convention. Twelve hundred people checking in at approximately the same time, certainly on the same day, were going to present a challenge. Then there were the hospitality suites, banquet and seminar rooms, audio equipment, pitchers of water, requests for coffee services, catering demands.

  Cartons of books were already arriving by the truckload. She appreciated the spirit of the planned book signing for literacy, as well as the headaches it was going to cause her and her staff.

  Composing a memo one-handed, she picked up her ringing phone. At the sound of the conference coordinator's voice, she straggled not to wince. "Yes, Melissa, it's Laura Templeton. How can I help you today?"

  And tomorrow, and for the rest of my natural life, she thought as the woman requested more additions, more changes, just a few more little adjustments.

  "Naturally, if the weather's inclement and we're unable to hold your welcoming party at poolside, we'll provide you with an alternate space. The Garden Ballroom is lovely. We often hold wedding receptions there. It's still available for that date."

  She listened, rubbed fingers against her temple. "No, I'm not able to do that, Melissa, but if we do book the ballroom, we'll provide another alternate. I realize we're talking more than a thousand people. We'll accommodate you."

  She continued to listen, made notes that somehow became mindless doodles. "Yes, I'm looking forward to seeing you again, too. I'll be in touch."

  Taking one breath, one moment to clear her mind again, she got back to her memo.

  "Laura."

  She didn't groan, but she wanted to. "Byron, did we have a meeting?"

  "No." He stepped in, seemed to fill her small office with his size. "Aren't you taking lunch?"

  "Lunch? It can't be noon."

  "No, it can't," he said mildly as she looked at her watch. "It's half past noon."

  "The morning got away from me. I'm due at the shop in an hour. I have to finish this. Is there something urgent?''

  Eyeing her, he closed the door at his back. "Take a break."

  "I really can't. I need—"

  "Take a break," he repeated. "That's an order." To ensure that she obeyed it, he sat down. "Now, Ms. Templeton, let's talk about delegating."

  "Byron, I do delegate. It's just that Fitz is running ragged over the Milhouse-Drury wedding reception, and Robyn's swamped. The pharmaceutical convention and a kid with chicken pox. And—"

  "And it all comes down to you," he finished. "You look exhausted, honey."

  She pouted. "Are you speaking as my brother-in-law or as executive director?"

  "Both. If you're not going to take care of yourself—"

  "I am taking care of myself." She smothered a smile. Byron's stand on health and fitness was well known. "I just didn't get much sleep last night. I went to the pound yesterday."

  He brightened, as she'd known he would. He'd adopted two dogs the year before. "Yeah? What did you get?"

  "A puppy and two kittens. The girls are in ecstasy. And this morning, I caught Annie carrying the pup like he was a newborn baby, and telling him that good dogs mustn't piddle on the Bokhara rug."

  "Start stocking up on newspaper. We'll have to come over and check out your new additions."

  "Come by tonight."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Before or after the country club dance?"

  "The Valentine's Day dance." She shut her eyes. "I forgot."

  "No getting out of it, Laura. You're a Templeton. You're expected."

  "I know, I know." There went the long, indulgent bath-and-early-to-bed night she'd been fantasizing about. "I'll be there. I would have remembered."

  "If you hadn't, Kate and Margo would have reminded you. Look, why don't you let your partners handle the shop this afternoon? Go take a nap."

  "J.T. is having his checkup this afternoon. I can't leave Kate on her own. We're inundated with the Valentine's Day sale."

  "Which reminds me…"

  Understanding, she smiled. "It's only the tenth, Byron. You still have time to pick up that well-thought-out, loving gift. And no matter what Kate says, don't buy her computer software. Flowers always work for me."

  And no one had sent her flowers, she thought, in too long to remember. When her mind drifted to a tiny yellow wildflower, she pulled it back, and called herself an idiot.

  "She's not getting that new calculator she's been hinting for, either." He rose. "Do you want a lift to the club tonight?"

  So went the life of a single woman, Laura mused. Always tagging along with couples. "No, thanks. I'll see you there."

  "I'm not the country club type, Josh." As if someone had already forced him into a suit, Michael rolled his shoulders.

  "I'd consider it a favor."

  Scowling, Michael measured out grain. "I hate it when you do that."

  "And I'd be able to introduce you to a lot of potential horse owners. I happen to know someone who has an impressive stud. You did say you have a mare ready to breed."

  "Yeah, she's ready." And he wanted the right sire for her. "So, you'll give me his name, and I'll talk to him. I don't have to go to some lame dance. And I'm the last person your sister wants taking her to some lame dance."

  "It's not like a date." So Margo had said when she'd drilled the request into his head. "It's just that Laura's feeling like a third wheel at these things. I didn't realize it myself, but Margo pointed it out."

  And, Josh thought as he watched Michael divvy up grains, had made him feel like a lower form of life. "Then I realized how often Laura either skips going to events, or cuts out early. It would be nice for her to have an escort, that's all."

  "A woman like your sister ought to have a platoon of likely escorts lined up and waiting." And all with the proper pedigree, Michael thought.

  "Yeah, well, she doesn't seem interested in swimming with the sharks in the dating pool." Was he supposed to do something about that, too? Josh wondered and nearly shuddered. "She knows you, Mick. She'd be comfortable with you. And it would give you the chance to make some contacts. Everybody's happy."

  "I'm not happy when I have to wear a tie." He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Not like you, Harvard, in your fancy Italian suit. Get the hell out of my barn."

  "Come on, Mick. It's just one night out of your fascinating and fun-filled life. We'll hit the game room, play some billiards, tell some lies."

  There was that, Mich
ael considered. And the alternative was a sandwich and an evening hunkered over his drawings for his projected house. "I can still bury your ass at pool."

  "I'll lend you a tie."

  "Fuck you." One of the cats streaked by, pounced in a blur of black. There was a short squeal.

  "Christ, that's disgusting."

  "That's life, Harvard." Michael moved back to deal with Darling's meal, measuring the additives necessary for her condition.

  "You really know what you're doing around here, don't you?"

  "Apparently we all have our niche."

  Josh mused over how many niches Michael had already found and rejected. Yet he had a feeling this one was different. They'd known each other too long and too well for Josh to miss the easy contentment in his friend's moves. A contentment, he thought, that had never quite been there before.

  "This is the one, isn't it?"

  Michael glanced over. He didn't need to explain, not to Josh. He only needed to say one word. "Yeah."

  "If I know you, you want to make something big out of it."

  He yearned to. "In my own time."

  Josh took his, waiting while Michael fed the expectant mother, checked her hay-net, babied her. "Monterey Riding Academy? The owners are friends of the family."

  "So?"

  "They'll be at the club tonight. Kate was their accountant when she was with Bittle and Associates. They do a lot of buying and selling. So do their students."

  Ambition, Michael admitted, was always a trap. "You're a slick son of a bitch, Harvard. You always were."

  Josh merely grinned. "We all have our niche."

  "Laura might not go for this little arrangement of yours."

  "I can handle Laura," Josh said confidently, and checked his watch. "I've got enough time to slip by the shop and do just that before my last meeting today. The dance is at nine. I'll tell her you'll pick her up at eight-thirty—wearing a tie."

  "If you don't make this worth my while, pal, I'll have to kick your ass." He brushed grain dust from his hands. "I won't enjoy it, but I'll have to do it."

  "Understood." Satisfied with the outcome of his mission, Josh headed for the door. "Ah, you do know the way to the club, don't you?"

  Appreciating the sarcasm, Michael tilted his head. "Maybe I will enjoy it after all."