“Yes,” she said, whooshing out a breath. “You get to hold her. What I’d like you to do is carefully pick Leona up, then trade places with one of your parents so you can sit and cuddle her on your lap. When I bring Viv over to you, pretend not to notice us. Just keep petting and talking to Leona. Sound good?”

Thomas responded with one of his impatient, borderline rude half-nods, bent to lift the cat out of her basket, and then sat with it as Mama Wurman—introduced as Ellen—vacated her chair.

Julia shot Thomas’s father a glance. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected Stanley to be the parent to stand up, but he remained glued to his seat, arms crossed over his chest. And though it had nothing at all to do with their eligibility for greyhound ownership, Julia couldn’t help but note that chivalry wasn’t a point of emphasis for the Wurman brood.

She stepped forward again, letting out the leash, guiding Viv toward Thomas.

The kid was a natural for the role of animal provocateur, she had to give that to him.

“I love you, kitty-cat,” Thomas cooed. He nestled Leona in his arms, scratched behind her ear, buried his face in the thick fur of her nape, and gave her a series of smoochy lip-smacking kisses. “I love you best of all, love you so, soooo much—”

All in an instant Vivian launched forward, straining at the leash. She was growling, her teeth gnashing inside the muzzle as she thrust her long snout at the cat. Before Julia could yank her away from him, Thomas screamed and flinched back in his chair, slamming it hard against the wall. Hissing, spitting, her fur on end, Leona took a defensive swat at Viv. Then she sprang out of Thomas’s arms to the floor, went scrambling wildly across the room, and bolted out the doorless entry to the storefront with a loud mewling screech.

“The lady tricked me!” Thomas hollered. His face red, tears bursting from his eyes. “She knew the dog was gonna be bad and she tricked me!”

“Thomas, I’m sorry you got frightened, but that’s not true.” Julia had pulled in the leash, straddled Vivian between her legs, and could already feel her subsiding. “I told you there was a chance—”

Thomas leaped to his feet, and the chair fell over with a crash. Ellen swept him into her consoling arms.

“No you didn’t!” he bawled. He’d clenched his hands into tight, white-knuckled fists and was shaking them at his sides. “You’re a liar! A mean, mean liar!”

Stanley rose from his chair and looked across the room at Julia.

“Under the circumstances, given how my son’s been traumatized—”

“A mean liar lady with a bad, stupid dog . . .”

“—I feel it’s best we reconsider this adoption,” Stanley said.

Julia somehow managed to arrest her smile.

“Mr. Wurman,” she said, “I have to admit those were exactly my thoughts.”