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into the street.

Tony was on his heels.

At first, he wondered if the car had hit a child. Going round to the front of the red sedan and dropping to his knees, he didn't see a body.

"No kid," he shouted to Captain Palladino who'd come running out of the station to investigate.

The low moan of a wounded animal caught Tony's attention and he took a second look beneath the car.

A tabby cat laid on the blacktop beneath the driver's front tire.

"I didn't see the cat until it was too late!" the teenage driver cried, running to Tony's side and peering beneath the car. "Is it…?"

The young girl began to sob.

Walcroft hunkered down and took the injured cat out, cradling it in his arms. His hand felt along the cat's spine and limp legs. Then his gaze met Tony's. "She's busted up. Won't make it."

"Ohmygod, I feel like crap," the teenage girl cried into her hands. "I didn't see the stop sign. Ohmygod."

Walcroft's hand stilled. "She's pregnant."

"I am not," the girl gasped, lifting her head.

"The cat."

Captain Palladino took command as if the cat were a patient. "Bring her into the garage, Wally. Cruz, get out the medic kit." The captain was running. "We'll do a C-section on her and get the kittens out."

They delivered four kittens from the mother cat who didn't make it. At no time did they think about what they were doing; it just seemed to be the right thing to do.

The teenage girl had called her parents and they showed up at the station to find out what had happened. Captain Palladino spoke to them while Tony and Wal-croft made sure the kittens were kept warm as they monitored their vitals.

By nightfall, the firefighters were trying to figure out how they'd get milk to the kittens. Tony made a call to Doug Frye, had him swing by the twenty-four-hour emergency animal hospital, pick up some supplies and bring them to Station 13.

It never occurred to the three of them to turn the kittens over to the animal shelter. Somewhere between

James Walcroft carrying the mom cat into the garage and Captain Palladino making the lifesaving efforts for the unborn babies, the firehouse adopted those kittens.

"Dad smells like Brut," Sarah whispered as she and Natalie stood at the kitchen sink washing dinner dishes.

"I noticed that." Natalie's tone was hushed. "I didn't think they still made that cologne."

"Apparently so. Must be stocked next to the High Karate."

Natalie laughed. "What's up with him? He hasn't worn cologne since…Mom."

At that, the sisters' heads turned simultaneously in the direction of Fred Miller who was playing Frogger on the PlayStation in the living room. He swore at the controls, his posture rigid and his thumbs moving the knobs up and down as a frog hopped across the television screen.

"Goddammit," he muttered.

BreeAnn and Sydney giggled at their grandpa.

Natalie turned to Sarah. "He's got to have met someone. There's no other explanation."

"Agree."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "I wonder who she is."

"Not a clue."

"Where would he meet a woman?"

"I don't know. Grocery store? Maybe Hat and Garden."

"I haven't seen him flirting with any of the customers."

"Dad would never do that," Natalie replied. "He'd play it cool."

"Should we ask him if he's seeing anyone?"

Natalie bit her lip. "I don't think we should ask him outright. You know how he gets defensive about things."

Steve Brockner walked through the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and said, "Want some pie, hon?"

"No. I'm still full from dinner."

Steve took out a half-eaten apple pie, set it on the countertop and began to cut a slice. To Natalie he asked, "Are you dating anyone?"

"Not since the erection guy," Sarah supplied.

"God, Sarah," Natalie said with a huff. "You told him that?"

"I tell Steve everything."

"Everything except how much you spend shopping," Steve quipped, shooting canned whip cream at his wife.

She laughed and ducked. Whipping the smear of white cream off the counter, she put her finger in her mouth. "Save that for later, babe."

Natalie felt a moment's discomfort. While she was happy for her sister's fabulous marriage, it left her with a lonely pang, wishing she had someone special in her life. Where that thought came from, she could only surmise.

The sisters went into the living room with cups of decaf to watch their father curse his way through the third level of the video game before giving the controls over to his granddaughters.

"I give up. Nobody can win that level," he said, rising to his feet and going into the kitchen for his second piece of pie.

"Grandpa, we can win it. We'll show you." Sydney proceeded to hop her way through the mazes and proved her point within a few minutes.

Grandpa Fred sat on the couch with his pie and frowned. "Well, I gave it my best try. You have to have the patience of a saint to win at that damn thing."

The girls moved up to the next level and Natalie removed her shoes and curled her feet beneath her. "So, Dad, what's new in your life?" she asked.

"Nothing."

His flat response didn't appease Sarah. "Seriously, Dad. Have you been doing anything fun lately?"

"Fun?" he said with a sour face. "I cleaned up dog shit in my front yard left by that worthless poodle who lives next door. They always let it out without a leash and it craps on my mugho pine."

"I'm sorry," Natalie offered, trying to keep a straight face. "So you haven't been doing anything different, going out any place special or—"

"Dad, we want to know why you're wearing Brut," Sarah cut in, literally cutting to the chase. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

The fork in Fred's hand stilled. "I have no such thing."

"Then why the cologne?" Natalie asked.

"Can't a man put on a quality aftershave and not get interrogated about it?"

Natalie tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Of course, Dad. Nobody's picking on you."

"It feels like it."

"We're sorry," Sarah offered. "We're just curious is all. We wouldn't be upset if you were interested in someone."

"No, we wouldn't," Natalie put in. "We want you to be

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