“We’re just about there,” Tina said, interrupting Carly’s thoughts. She turned into a driveway near the edge of town. The house was small but charming. It had redbrick walls, a well-kept garden, a porch with an old-fashioned swing, and windows with traditional-looking shutters.

“Oh, I should mention. The cats are Logan, a large orange boy of about six, and Plum, a gray tabby with the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen. She’s three or so. They’re healthy and lovely, and on Barb’s recommendation, Meg doesn’t let them out—what with the coyotes and cars around here and all.”

“Makes sense to me.” Coming from a big city with its heavy traffic, she’d always believed in keeping cats inside. And that way, they’d provide Meg with more companionship, too.

She and Tina approached the door, up a short flight of steps, and Tina knocked. A minute or two later, Meg opened it. She was probably in her late sixties, attractive but too thin. Her hair, which she’d lost to chemo, was starting to grow back, looking sparse and spiky. Her smile was warm and reflected in her eyes. “Hi, Tina! And you must be Carly. Hi, darling.” She reached forward, enfolding first Tina and then Carly in a hug. “Come on in and meet the fur babies.”

As they followed her, the cats—precisely as described by Tina—came rushing toward them, and Carly immediately bent to stroke Logan, then picked up Plum who was purring madly. “Hey, sweeties! I’m so glad to meet you.” Glancing up at Meg, she said, “They’re adorable!”

“I think so, too.”

Meg had them sit in her living room, with its fireplace and antique chairs. When coffee or tea had been declined by her guests, she turned to Carly. “You’ve probably heard that I’m going through chemo for breast cancer.”

“I…didn’t know the details. Just about the chemo.” She felt her eyes fill with tears. “My mom died of breast cancer.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

“Thank you. She got diagnosed too late.” And part of the reason was that Reba had ignored her symptoms and avoided seeing her doctor…

“I’ve been lucky—if that’s a word you can associate with cancer. It hasn’t spread and the chemo seems to be working. Afterward, I’ll be having radiation.” She glanced down at Logan, sitting by her feet. “Listen, Carly. I’m so grateful you’re willing to help me out, supporting me, supporting my pets.”

Carly stood up and hurried to Meg’s chair, leaning over to hug her carefully. She could feel her protruding ribs, her fragile shoulders. “And I’m happy to be doing this. I’d be happy to do it for other people—and animals, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying in Painted Pony Creek?”