"Thanks to the K Fund, we've doubled our capacity and hired a second rescue officer. Now, if only we could educate people not to abandon unwanted pets without food, water, or protection from wild animals! A pregnant cat or dog is driven into the country and dropped by the roadside. It breaks my heart! At the shelter, cages are being cleaned and animals bathed by wealthy women volunteers who could be playing afternoon bridge or flying to Chicago for a day's shopping. . . . You know all this, Qwill. You've written columns on it. And you quoted a philosopher:
Qwilleran gulped. He had been warned. They were going to ask him to be auctioneer! "Sounds like a good idea! I'm sure you could get Foxy Fred to handle it gratis. He would be very good at kidding the audience and pitting bidder against bidder. An out-of-town audience would eat it up!"
"You're very right, Qwill! We've asked him and he's going to do it. And here's what the volunteers suggested. Instead of putting anonymous animals on the block, give them all famous names - like my ladies!"
"Excellent idea!" he said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"As a matter of fact . . . yes!" Maggie said. "Could you make up a list of names that are well known? We'd start with kitties."
"With pleasure! They'd be names from literature and legend - no contemporary figures. Politicians or movie stars or others in the news would turn it into a joke. The names can still have a light connotation: Peter Pan, Cholly Knickerbocker, Rosie O'Grady, Goody Two-Shoes. That would be perfect for a female with two white paws."
"Oh, I'm so excited, Qwill! How soon can you give us a list? We have some sharp-witted volunteers who will love fitting the names to the right kitties."
"In fact, Maggie, I'll pay a visit to the shelter. Colors and marking might suggest ?Cinderella' for all white; ?Bonnie Lassie' for an orange marmalade mix; ?Tom Sawyer' for a male with jaunty markings on the head. . . . Enough of this! I could stay here all day! . . . Just let me ask you one question: Do you know the Ledfields?"
He was prompted solely by a free-ranging curiosity that was part of his profession. Maggie's response was more than he anticipated.
"Why, yes! Nathan and Doris were our neighbours in Purple Point! Jeremy and I dined with them often. Nathan is a wonderful man - played the violin. Doris accompanied him on the piano. She's a sweet, retiring person - sad, because she's childless, and the Ledfields have always felt strongly about continuing the bloodline. They have only a nephew in California."
"He visited here last weekend, Maggie, to make sketches of my barn for an architectural project. He's entering college in the fall."
"Really? That will please his aunt and uncle. I believe his name is Harvey. He was here last winter. Harvey's parents were killed in a car crash on the freeway."
Maggie's cagily secretive expression caused Qwilleran to remark, "A terrible tragedy!"
"Not exactly," she said. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but everyone knows that Nathan's brother was the black sheep of the family - a burden and an embarrassment. When they died, that left Harvey the only heir to the Ledfield fortune, so Nathan sent him a pair of plane tickets, and he visited here with a friend, a personable young man. Nathan found the friend an interesting conversationalist but he was disappointed in Harvey. All the young man could talk about was a glamorous ski lodge in the mountains, which he wanted his uncle to back."
"Any luck?" Qwilleran asked.
"You jest!" Maggie replied. "Nathan considered it a frivolity, and the two youths didn't stay long. Nathan would prefer to put his heir through college."
"Did you meet Harvey? No? It's just as well, Maggie. He's a cat hater. . . . And now I must tear myself away from your fascinating company."
Maggie said, "You're so kind and understanding, Qwill! And always so concerned about people. . . . Don't forget the list of cat names."
On the way out he noticed a small framed photo on a bookshelf. Two couples in a rose garden.
"The handsome one is my Jeremy," Maggie said. "Doris and I are sitting on a bench that Jeremy copied from the one in Monet's
