Bonnie smiled. That had been her exact intention with the little tableau.

  Amy and Kena were wearing elaborate lace tops she had found at the vintage clothing shop on Sumner’s Main Street, with matching bows in their hair that she had made after a visit to a Puyallup craft store. She had let them choose their own leggings in bold, bright patterns, adding a modern touch to keep the scene from feeling overwhelmingly old-fashioned and inaccessible.

  Jonah was in a brown double-breasted suit with a silk puff tie, looking every inch the doting father as he sat scrunched at what was clearly a children’s table-and-chairs set, drinking what only Bonnie knew was apple juice out of a child-sized teacup. The scene of a father having tea with his young children was heavily staged, but their interactions were clearly genuine. They were talking and laughing in a natural way while kittens tumbled around them, playing with lacy, feathery toys.

  She had always thought of Jonah as a bit of a sellout, following their parents’ approved path in life. And maybe their relentless pressure and his own desire to please them had made an impact on his life choices, but watching him now, she saw something she hadn’t fully appreciated before.

  Yes, he had the big family her parents sanctioned, but he was far from her own father in the way he interacted with his children—not just now, when he was on display, but every time she was around him and his family. He might have chosen this life to please their parents, but she had no doubt how happy he was with it. No matter what the initial catalyst had been, he was making a life of his own.

  She shifted slightly, and Taryn was right there, solid and warm and not moving away. Bonnie sighed and just rested in the moment before the chaos would begin.

  When it was time to get the guests to their starting rooms, Bonnie, Nancy, and Taryn had a challenging time dragging them away from the screen and herding them to their appointed places. Once all the stragglers were out of the room, Bonnie called Jonah—watching him pull his cell out of his pocket and answer it would have definitely spoiled the vibe of the scene. He and the girls could relax until the guests returned for the dessert course. She had left them plenty of food in the kitchen to keep them occupied until they had to be back on set.

  Bonnie tidied up the room, straightening photos and picking up leftover pieces of trash. Taryn still hadn’t returned to the welcome desk and had probably been corralled into answering questions or escorting confused guests to the right rooms. She would have liked at least a brief moment to talk to her and to reassure herself that they were going to be all right in spite of their recent confusing up-and-down interactions, but she needed to do her assigned job. She would spend each stage of the event putting out whatever feline fires arose, so she had better get to work.

  She was about to enter the first room when Jerome came trotting down the hall toward her, looking upset. She sighed. They had made it, what, two minutes before there was a problem? This was going to be a long night.

  “Hey, Bonnie. Your girlfriend stole some cats.”

  “She’s not my…wait, what do you mean she stole cats?”

  “She came in the room and took Salmon and Sasha. She said you told her to get them, but when I asked why, she just left. Should I call someone? The cops?”

  Well, this was unexpected. Bonnie rubbed her hand over her eyes, pulling herself together before answering.

  “I don’t think we need to get the police involved just yet,” she said. “I’ll find them. It’s about time to serve the first appetizer, so you can go back to the red room. Oh, and don’t talk about stolen cats in front of the guests. Or the other volunteers. Just say I needed the cats for some publicity photos or something, and I’ll bring them back soon. Then get back on schedule. The show must go on, or whatever.”

  He still seemed concerned, but he nodded and headed back down the hall. Bonnie stood still for a moment, trying to identify what she was feeling in the midst of this unexpected crisis. Exasperated was a good word for it. She was also resisting the urge to laugh because she didn’t know if she just found the situation oddly amusing, or if she was having some sort of breakdown. Most likely, it was the latter.

  She turned around and headed toward the far wing of the building. They were using all the larger rooms in the rec center, but there were a few they had left empty because they were too small. She had a feeling she would find Taryn and the cats in one of them, unless she was at that moment jogging down Main Street with a big ginger cat under one arm and a small white one under the other. Bystanders might think Sumner was having another parade and line the streets to watch.

  She smiled. Okay, that mental image was definitely funny. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, and waited until she had her expression under control again before she started opening doors one by one in her search for the missing wedding planner-turned-cat thief.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Taryn sat with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. Sasha was on her lap, and Ninja Cat was close to her calves—close but not touching. They seemed to be handling the evening with much more composure than she was displaying at the moment, but then again, they weren’t the ones who were going to have to face Bonnie’s reaction once she found them.

  And Taryn had no doubt she would find them soon. She wasn’t really trying to hide but was merely using one of the empty rooms. The entire rec center was available for them to use, so she had every right to be here. She looked around at the bare space with only a table and a few chairs in it. She’d tell Bonnie it was the beige room, the one for cats who were perfectly fine staying at the café so didn’t need to be seen and petted by the Finding Furever guests, thank you very much.

  And Bonnie would eventually take the cats back to the red room. It was the inevitable result, but Taryn had just needed…

  She wasn’t sure what she needed. She hadn’t put a lot of thought into her cat abduction, after all, but it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. She had gone to the room just to see them and make sure they were okay—it was part of her job as event host, right?—and she had walked in to see these two traitors looking as adorable as possible, sitting side by side with their four little front paws lined up in a row, two of them tidy and small, and two a bit rough around the edges. She could practically hear the scratching of pens on adoption papers, so she had done what any completely sane person would do in that situation and grabbed the cats.

  She didn’t have much experience carrying one cat around, let alone two who seemed to grow increasingly aware of her lack of experience and the freedom of the empty halls that was just within their grasp as she looked for a place to hide. Rest, not hide, since she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  She somehow had managed to hold both cats while turning the doorknob to this empty room with only the thought of how Bonnie would react if Taryn’s idiotic escapade led to one of her cats getting loose giving her the superhuman strength needed to accomplish the feat.

  And now, she waited.

  Not for long. Bonnie came into the room and carefully shut the door behind her. She sat down cross-legged on the floor.

  “Hi, Taryn,” she said, speaking much slower than normal. “It seems we’ve had a minor misunderstanding about how this event is meant to go. It’s the guests who go from room to room, not the cats. The cats are meant to stay in one place.”

  Taryn rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to talk to me like I’m a child. I obviously know I wasn’t supposed to take them.”

  “I’m not being condescending,” Bonnie continued in the same singsong tone. “I’m using a calming voice because, for the moment, I’m treating this as a potential hostage situation. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Give you my list of demands, you mean?” Taryn asked with a humorless laugh. “All right, I’ll play that game. I want you to take these two home. There are plenty of other cats here for people to adopt.”

  “So you want me to keep them at the café forever, and you can come see them whenever you feel like having a cup of coffee with Sasha in your lap and Salmon sitting next to you?”

  “Yes. Is that too much to ask?” Taryn recognized the petulance in her own voice. Maybe Bonnie was right to have spoken to her like she was a child.

  Bonnie sighed. “Not from me, not at all. I’d be more than happy to keep them there for you, Taryn, you know I would. But it’s not fair to them, so I won’t do it. They deserve more, and I really don’t think you’re selfish enough to keep them from it.”

  “But I am selfish, Bonnie,” Taryn snapped, immediately getting control over her voice again when Ninja Cat’s head swiveled sharply in her direction. She continued in a more sedate tone. “I live alone. I have one assistant who pretty much acts like her own boss, so it’s not like you with Jerome and Isa, where you nurture them and let them use the café for school projects. I like visiting the cats, but I’m not about to bring a litter box and cat tree into my house and care for an animal every day. I take care of my clients, but only for a few months at a time, and then they go off and live their lives. I like it that way, Bonnie. I’ve designed my life to be simple and unsurprising. You, with your cats and your café and your selflessness, you’re neither of those things.”

  “Ah,” Bonnie said. “We’re not talking about Salmon and Sasha anymore, are we?”

  Taryn shook her head. She was not going to cry. “No. You know what my past was like. I spent my life trying to take care of my parents and failing. The moments of happiness when we’d act like a family and the long stretches of angry silence or shouting. I couldn’t handle the swings between them, and as soon as I broke free from trying to fix them, I promised myself I wouldn’t ever go through it again.”

  “But, Taryn, every relationship is going to have highs and lows,” Bonnie said with a frown. “The healthy ones will have a lot more of those happy times, and much less intense angry ones, but you can’t be together with someone without experiencing some of each.”

  “Exactly,” Taryn said. “Which is why I don’t have relationships. None that will touch me deeply enough to make me feel anything too intense, at least. I thought I could find something similar with you, something to last while we’re planning the wedding, and then…”

  “Something to walk away from when it’s done,” Bonnie finished for her. The hurt written so clearly in her expression nearly broke Taryn’s resolve, but not quite. This was what Taryn needed so desperately to avoid—the pain and high emotions that came with letting anyone get too close. Right now, she was the one causing the pain, but if she stayed with Bonnie, eventually she’d be the one feeling it. She needed to break the cycle now.

  “Yes,” she said softly. Bonnie nodded and stared down at her hands clasped quietly in her lap. Taryn forced herself to continue. “I just can’t do it, Bonnie. I’m more tempted to with you than I’ve ever been before, but I just can’t.” That was the scary part. Wanting Bonnie as much as she did only meant far too many emotions were already involved. The inevitable hard times would be even worse because of it.

  “I can’t even bear to say good-bye to these two, and I’ve barely noticed cats in the past, let alone cared about whether they wanted to sit in my damned lap or not. I’m just not like you, the way you’re able to see the beauty within the pain of letting them go.”

  Bonnie looked up again. “I never said I wanted you to be like me, Taryn. This is a way of life I’ve chosen, and I’d never expect you to be involved in it if you weren’t comfortable. Besides, if we were together, you wouldn’t have to worry about good-bye. I wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

  Taryn just shook her head, her hand resting gently on Sasha’s warm back, not looking away from Bonnie’s face. Bonnie must have recognized her resolve, because Taryn could see exactly when Bonnie’s sadness shifted to acceptance.

  “All right, Taryn, I’m not going to fight you on this.” She stood up and walked over to her. “You can hurt me if you need to, but I won’t allow you to hurt these two by keeping them from a chance at finding a new home. We’re taking them back to their room now.”

  Taryn nodded. Bonnie bent down and picked up Ninja Cat, leaving the room without a backward glance, expecting Taryn to do the right thing and come with her. Bonnie might not be convinced now, but Taryn was doing the right thing for herself, as well, tonight. She’d be sad for a while, but then her world would right itself again and she’d be on an even keel. Sometime soon, she hoped. She got up, clutching Sasha to her, and followed Bonnie back to the red room.

  * * *

  If nothing else, Taryn was coming out of this evening impressed as hell with her prodigious—and hitherto unknown—acting skills.

  She smiled at everyone as if her brief stint of cat thievery and her conversation with Bonnie had never happened. She helped serve dessert to their enthusiastic guests and collected far more adoption applications than they had anticipated, stowing them aside for Bonnie and not once glancing at the cat names on them.

  Once everyone had returned to the main room, Jerome cut the feed to the café and played a short promo he and Bonnie had created in the past few days. Bonnie had given Taryn hints about it, but she hadn’t let her see the final product until now. Taryn maneuvered through the crowded hall and into a good viewing spot—meaning one where she had a good view of Bonnie and an only slightly blocked one of the screen.

  The ad started with some shots panning through the café, and then close-ups of some cats interacting with customers. After the expected feline-focused content, the camera panned past the display case full of tantalizing baked goods and over to Bonnie sitting at what Taryn would always think of as their table with an open laptop next to her. Her GIF was bouncing away on the screen before Bonnie tapped a key to pause it and looked up at the camera with a rueful, self-deprecating smile.

  “We’d love to have you come by for coffee and a visit with our cats. And, of course, a locally sourced and seasonal treat or two.”

  When the screen switched back to the kitten tearoom, everyone turned toward Bonnie, laughing and vying for a chance to approach and talk to her. Taryn stepped back, fading into the background again. The guests’ laughter sounded good-natured and friendly, and she hoped Bonnie heard it that way, too. Her smile looked a little bit forced, and Taryn knew that watching that GIF, so long a sore spot, in a public display must have been painful for her, but she seemed at ease talking to the people around her. Maybe this event would help banish that humiliating demon from her past.

  Taryn busied herself handing out packets and helping attendees find their coats and bags. She should have been at Bonnie’s side during the presentation—supporting her and sharing in the many successes of the night—but instead, she hovered on the edge of the celebrations, willing the night to hurry and end.

  Bonnie had been adamant that no one would leave Finding Furever with a cat in tow. The applications were filled out, and each room had regularly updated a chart with pending requests for the guests to see. But the adoptions wouldn’t be processed until the days after the event, when the excitement wore down and the potential adopters would have had a chance to think about their requests and make sure they were certain about the commitment.

  Taryn had accepted Bonnie’s authority on that detail, recognizing her expertise in the matter, but she hadn’t fully understood the emotions that would be in play until she had experienced them herself. If Bonnie hadn’t intervened, Taryn might have found herself at home with her two ill-gotten felines. And as she told Bonnie, she had no intention of bringing cats into her house.

  Had she, possibly, spent some time looking around her place over the past weeks and imagining where one might keep a litter box, or where the sunniest location was for a bed or two?

  If she had, then it was only because she always immersed herself in whatever project she was currently planning, which just happened to involve cats this time. It was research. Nothing less. She tried to ignore the fact that she had never once looked into turtle habitats while working on the Timmy Project.

  Taryn was relieved when the guests finally left—practically needing to be shoved out the doors—and she was able to take her smile down a notch from the one needed for the host of the event to one suitable for cleaning up with the volunteers. On the bright side, she didn’t have to put any effort at all into keeping track of Bonnie and avoiding her. Bonnie had apparently assumed that task for herself and was doing a damned fine job of it.

  What she did avoid were the cats and everyone’s elated discussions about which ones had the longest interest lists, like they were gossiping over which debutantes had been asked to dance at a ball. Whenever she heard the topic come up in conversation, she immediately moved to a different area to clean, which meant she ended up ping-ponging around the room because the event had been such a success.

  Taryn sighed as she edged her way out of a group when she heard the name Tulip come up and walked over to the dessert table to help pile up plates. On her way there, she passed the screen that was still showing the kitten room webcam.

  Jonah was still sitting on his tiny chair, his tie discarded, reading a book as he presumably waited for Bonnie to return to the café. The two girls were asleep on blankets on the floor, surrounded by tiny puddles of kittens. The unscripted scene was even more adorable than the tea party, if it was possible, and Taryn thought it was a good thing the guests were no longer here to see it. As it was, Bonnie was going to need to build ten kitten tearooms to accommodate all the reservations she was going to get after tonight.

  Taryn finally packed the last box in a waiting car and waved as its driver pulled away, leaving her alone in front of the rec center. She did one last sweep through the place, cringing a bit as she peered into what had been the red room—the scene of her brief but thrilling crime spree—and then she locked the glass doors. When she had first come up with the Finding Furever concept, it had been part of the ploy to get Bonnie to agree to the wedding. She had realized it was a clever idea, but in a detached way. The event had become something much more than she had anticipated, and she finally understood the impact it had on the lives of these animals and rescue workers. She was proud to have been part of it, but relieved for it to be over. Life could go back to normal now, with only the impending dread of having to face Bonnie again in October hanging over her. She’d go back to the all-virtual mode of communication with her until then.