“Good. Meanwhile, I have some food for her, if you need spare.”
“Like I said, we make do,” Norma said, her chin stiff and proud, but her eyes darted to the bag of food next to Cooper’s feet. “Not gone broke yet from mah singin’. Secret’s to get a good spot, lots of people. ’Sides, soul ain’t never goin’ out of style.”
“Can’t argue with that. So”—Cooper patted the bag—“what about I leave you some? Lucille needs the best she can get right now. I’ve included an electrolyte solution to rehydrate her and get some nutrients back in her. It’s chicken-flavored to make her drink it.”
“All right, then. Thanks.”
Cooper put a bulging plastic bag of pet food and liquids beside her. “Are you both okay for warmth?”
“Yes,” Norma said. This time there was conviction in her eyes.
“Good.” Cooper eased the cat back over to Norma, gave it a scratch behind one ear, then smiled. “You’re adorable, Lucille. Right, Felicity?” She turned to look at her.
Felicity froze, not expecting to be drawn into any kind of conversation. They’d talked about this! “Ah…” Her gaze darted back to the cat with its enormous, beautiful eyes. “It’s a cat. I’m sure all cats are equally valid to their owners.”
What the hell kind of answer was that? Felicity’s cheeks grew warm, and she leaped to her feet. “I’ll, uh, be in the van.”
She felt Norma’s hostility as she bolted and dimly heard Cooper apologize for her.
Why am I making such a mess of this? How hard was it? “Your cat’s lovely, ma’am.”
Idiot! She’d negotiated multimillion-dollar deals for Bartell Corp that didn’t feel this fraught. She leaned against the locked van, waiting for Cooper’s return.
Shortly afterwards, the van beeped, and Cooper opened the back to return supplies to it. She removed her disposable gloves with a snap and cleaned her hands with antibacterial gel.
Felicity climbed into the passenger seat. Moments later, the rear doors slammed closed hard enough for the whole van to reverberate slightly, then the driver’s door opened.
“Okay, what the hell was that?” Cooper asked as she climbed into the front seat and sat heavily.
“What was what?” Felicity asked, voice tight.
“Half the time all these people need is a bit of comfort. A kind word. I wasn’t asking you to marry the cat, just say it was nice so the client would feel good. And what did you do? ‘It’s just a cat,’” she mocked. “‘All cats are equally valid.’”
I know! Fuck, I know! Felicity inhaled. “I was caught off guard,” she said instead.
“Felicity,” Cooper said, sounding exasperated, “I wasn’t asking you to lie or fake anything. It was not a difficult task. The cat was obviously adorable, and all you had to do was agree and offer kindness to a woman who has next to nothing. That cat is her life, and you dismissed it like it was a…thing.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Felicity said, voice rising. “I wasn’t expecting the question! I thought we’d agreed I’d not say anything.”
“We agreed you wouldn’t judge clients, take offense if they were angry, or ask them intrusive questions. I had no idea you thought ignoring humans extended to their animals! Felicity, this is nonnegotiable: if you ride with me, I expect you to be kind about people’s pets, even if you can’t stand to look at them. Got it?”
Felicity gave a tight nod.
“Christ.” Cooper shook her head and started the van. “I just don’t get people who hate animals.”
“I don’t hate them,” Felicity whispered. A flash of a ginger cat bumping under her chin demanding cuddles flashed into mind. She pushed the memory away.
A moment later, as if sensing her misery, Brittany dropped her muzzle back onto Felicity’s shoulder and gave her a hopeful look. Felicity pushed her away, too.
“Could have fooled me.” Cooper stomped her foot on the pedal, and Felicity had another experience of a rocket liftoff.
She couldn’t be bothered arguing. She was too busy trying to keep her breakfast down.
* * *
Felicity was coping well, she thought, with the disease and decay she kept witnessing, courtesy of Sandy Cooper. They stopped for an early lunch with Cooper ordering a meat-filled hero while Felicity opted for a whole wheat, ham, and lettuce sandwich. They ate at a wooden outdoor table so small that they kept knocking knees. Cooper’s fault, of course—she had a lot of leg.
Felicity distracted herself from that thought by surreptitiously sneaking Brittany food every time Cooper looked the other way. She was helpless to refuse those huge sparkling brown eyes gazing up at her like she was the most wonderful creature in the universe. Dogs were so sneaky like that. Playing on your vanity.
Anyway, she was just getting rid of food she wouldn’t eat. That’s all it was. She’d never been a big eater, and the serving sizes on their sandwiches were enormous. It practically begged people to feed their hungry dogs under the table. Or other people’s. Whatever.
Cooper talked a lot about the work she did, and Felicity largely listened. Not to what she said—the topic of various animal ailments was presently ranging from dull to gross—but her voice. It was deep and delighted as she ran through her cases.
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Cooper asked, scrunching up her paper napkin. “Am I so boring?”
“What? No,” Felicity said in surprise.
“What did I just say?”
Caught, Felicity offered a tight smile. “You’re pleased that the dog will make a full recovery.” It was a stab in the dark.
“Uh-huh. Just for that, I’m not giving you the head’s up about our next case.”
“Oh no,” Felicity said with faint sarcasm. “How will I cope?”
“You’ll really wish you had had advance warning on this one so you could stay in the van with Brittany. But no, I’ve decided you can just see for yourself.”
That did sound ominous. But how bad could it possibly be? “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
