The Christmas Cat Read Online Free Page B

getting senile? She sounded so sensible on the phone . . . but maybe he’d missed something.
    “As I told you, Garrison, it is a little unconventional. That’s why I’m going over some of the details now.”
    “But I don’t get it. I mean, how will I ever find people like this? Seriously, who in their right mind would ever agree to jump all these hurdles—surprise visits and home inspections and all that—just to adopt some old lady’s cat?”
    “I’m aware that most people would be put off by these things.”
    “Then why did Gram insist on all this?”
    “Because she wanted to be certain that all her beloved cats would be well cared for after she was gone.”
    “But it feels like you’re asking me to do the impossible.” Garrison ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, after all, they are just cats.”
    “Are you saying that you do not wish to be the guardian of the cats?”
    “No . . . I’m not saying that. It just sounds extremely complicated and difficult.”
    “Well, there is one little surprise that will make it a biteasier.” Mr. Miller laid down the papers. “All the adoptive families will be given a check for ten thousand dollars after you have determined that all six cats are settled and happy.”
    “Ten thousand dollars for adopting a cat?”
    He just nodded.
    “That’s sixty thousand dollars total!”
    “That’s correct.”
    Garrison let out a low whistle. Was this for real?
    “So you need to decide, Garrison. Do you want to agree to this responsibility? It was your grandmother’s last wishes that you do this for her. But she knew about your allergies and she realized you might refuse—”
    “I’ll do it,” he said suddenly. “It was obviously important to her. How could I not do it?”
    Mr. Miller smiled. “She would be happy to know this.”
    “So am I supposed to tell these adoptive families that they’ll get ten grand just for taking in a cat? I mean, that would make it pretty easy to find homes. Just run an ad in the newspaper or online and I’ll bet my phone would start ringing nonstop.”
    “You could do it that way.” Mr. Miller frowned as he slid some paperwork into a large manila envelope. “But that would make it difficult to sift the suitable adoptive homes from the gold diggers.”
    Garrison nodded. “Good point.”
    “Basically, it’s up to you—I mean, how you choose to handle this. Your grandmother’s final wish was for her cats to find good homes and for the people who adopted them to be blessed in the process. She was well aware that some of her cats were older and might not be easily placed. The last thing she wanted was for them to go to a pet shelter or wind up on the streets or be euthanized.”
    “That’s understandable.”
    “And she realized that it would take you some time to work out the details of her final wishes,” he continued. “To that end, she’s left you some living expenses. Enough for a month or two, depending on how you handle it.” He slipped what looked like a cashier’s check into the envelope.
    “That was thoughtful.” Garrison knew that his tone sounded flat and unenthusiastic, but it was the best he could muster. It wasn’t easy discovering that one’s grandmother was fonder of her cats than her own grandson. He knew that was selfish on his part, but Gram knew he had allergies when she started taking in felines.
    “She also put details about the cats in here.” Mr. Miller grinned. “Complete dossiers with photos and vet records and everything she thought might be needed in the case of her demise.”
    “Seems she thought of everything.” Garrison felt slightly overwhelmed. Was he really about to become the keeper of the cats?
    “I expect you’ll want to remain in your grandmother’s house while you’re acting as guardian and handling the placement of the cats.”
    Garrison shook his head. “Not with my allergies.”
    “Right.” Mr. Miller closed the thick envelope and slid it across his desk