Read To Catch a Leaf for Free Online Page B

so I ended the conversation with Marco and switched over to find Nikki waiting to update me.
    â€œI’m about to head for the hospital,” she said, “but I wanted to let you know that your little tabby has been dozing for most of the day and seems to be doing very well. So, how’s my Simey-wimey?”
    â€œLoving the attention from the customers. He’s quite a ham.”
    â€œI’m glad he isn’t causing trouble.”
    I decided to save the fern story for later and instead tell her about my missing employee.
    â€œOh, wow,” Nikki said. “That’s weird for Grace not to at least call. As soon as I get to the hospital, I’ll check to make sure she hasn’t been brought in.”
    â€œThanks, Nikki. I’m really starting to worry.”
    I went back to work, dividing my time between waiting on customers and slipping into the workroom to fill orders. Nikki phoned later to let me know Grace was not at the hospital; then Marco phoned to say that he’d left a voice mail for Reilly. Lottie tried again to reach Grace on her mobile and at home, but no luck there, either.
    Where was Grace?

CHAPTER FOUR

    W hen my mom arrived at three thirty with a big cardboard box in her arms, the poetesses were gone, and the shop was quiet. Normally, the sight of my mother carrying in a box was enough to send all of us running for cover, because most of her projects were unmitigated disasters. For instance, she’d once made beaded jackets using one-inch wooden beads. Not only were the jackets uncomfortable, but they also rolled right off the shoulders onto the floor.
    Then there were her humongous feathered hats made with neon-colored feathers, the dyes of which ran down the wearer’s face when the weather turned muggy or wet. And there was the hideous footstool, modeled after an actual human foot, down to the hairs on the toes.
    Today, however, Mom and her carton of unknown horrors were a welcome distraction.
    â€œI can’t wait to show you what I made,” she said, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
    â€œLet me help you with that box, Mom,” I said, taking it from her arms. “You must be exhausted after teaching all day. Why don’t you sit here and rest?” I placed the container on the wicker settee next to the umbrella plant and patted the cushion.
    â€œAre you being solicitous because of the injured tabby you mentioned this morning?” she asked.
    â€œNo!” Not my only reason, anyway.
    â€œBecause if you are, let me clarify this right now. I don’t want any more animals to care for. A llama is more than enough for your dad and me to handle.”
    â€œI know that. I just want you to be comfortable.”
    Eyeing me skeptically, Mom took off her tan-colored spring coat and sat down. She was wearing one of her standard teacher outfits—a powder blue pullover sweater with brown slacks and brown flats. She kept her light brown hair chin length, framing her soft features and peaches-and-cream complexion, which, unlike mine, had not one freckle on it. I was my dad’s daughter all the way: red hair, freckled skin, and a short temper.
    â€œTechnically, however,” I said, “the llama lives outside the house in his heated barn. Pets live inside.”
    â€œHe’s still a pet, Abigail. And don’t forget, we had cats for years while you kids were growing up. I’m done with litter boxes now and into a new phase of my life. Please respect it.”
    Well, fine. I’d find someone else to love little Tabitha.
    Oh, no! Had I just named her?
    â€œBefore I show you what I brought,” she said, “remember the trip your dad and I took to Florida last winter? Remember me telling you that collecting seashells was passé and the big thing was sea glass?”
    â€œWhat’s sea glass?” Lottie asked, bringing in an armful of red roses to restock the display case.
    â€œThey’re shards of old