Shawn sighed and picked up his tea, took a long drink. “Certain pets, particularly cats, need the right fit with a family. And you’re right. Isis will be hard to place.”

“Give me more time, then,” I said. “If I can talk to Miss Longworth, get a feel for—”

The most god-awful screech came from the foyer. I stood and started in that direction, worried something was terribly wrong with Isis.

But Shawn grabbed my arm and stopped me before I could get by him. “Don’t give her any attention for that outburst. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“She sounds like she’s mortally wounded.” I craned my neck, trying to see into the foyer.

“Yeah. The drama queen has spoken. Your cats are probably out there sniffing around her crate, and she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like much of anything.”

I sat back down. “Maybe she simply wants to go home, Shawn. Give me more time? Please?”

“Oh, I’ll give you as long as you want,” he said. “If you keep her.”

Six

The minute I told Shawn that I’d gladly keep Isis for the time being, he left my house so fast I wondered if I’d dreamed the whole visit. But Isis promptly yowled and reminded me this was all quite real. My three cats sat around her crate, their ears twitching at the whines and growls coming from our new visitor.

I’d fostered cats before, and most of the time, my three are fairly easygoing with the meet and greet. Sometimes there’s hissing and stalking, but since my cats were rescued from a shelter after Hurricane Katrina, that experience made them fairly gracious hosts to other animals. But I had the feeling that might not be the case this time.