Chapter 9
With a self-conscious laugh, Dayla says, “I don’t think Sable likes me.”
“Sable doesn’t like anyone,” Keri admits. “At least, not at first. But the moment you open a can of cat food, she turns all lovey-dovey.”
Rocking back on her heels, Dayla gives the room a good once-over. “How is thisnot the cat room?”
“Oh, it is,” Keri assures her. “But it’s for my cats only. The room downstairs is for fosters.”
“Who’s Foster?” Dayla asks, though she has a sneaky feeling she already knows. Boyfriend, most likely, and she hopes Keri can’t hear the disappointment in her voice. Why is it all the women Dayla’s attracted to always turn out to be straight?
Keri’s laugh only makes her feel worse. Then she says, “No, not whoWhat. I foster neonatal kittens and pregnant mothers who wouldn’t normally make it if left in a shelter.”
At first Dayla can’t quite grasp what that means.