Mailbag:

gleelover62: Thanks so much for enjoying it! Come Monday, I'm on! Every week!

WildeAbrams: I don't understand why so many people dislike Kartie (or Wildebrams or whatever it's called).I guess it's all the Jitty fans and whoever else Artie's been with.

Gleek888: I loved the Kitty-Marley friendship and I wish it would have been shown more, but if RIB won't give us what we want, we put it in fanfiction. Thanks for all the support you've given me and I'm excited for this too!

lifehowtodealwithit: Because you commented on three chapters, I will answer each one separately.

Chapter 1: Thanks and if I do say so myself, it is pretty cute! I hope that doesn't make me sound stuck up...

Chapter 2: Yeah, I was kind of shocked myself when I thought of it.

Chapter 3: Again, making this cute was my plan the whole time!


My phone rang and I pulled it out of my back pocket. I looked at the caller ID. I didn't recognize the phone number. I answered, hesitantly saying, "Hello."

"Hi Kitty," a voice I immediately recognized as Artie's responses.

"Artie, how the hell did you get my number," I asked.

"I tried your number from high school and it worked."

"Oh," I replied sheepishly, "I guess I forgot I never changed it."

"Anyway," he began, "I just wanted to say that I had fun last night. Maybe we could do it again."

"Yeah," I replied, truthfully.

"I'll call you sometime."


Thirty minutes later, I was still thinking about my conversation with Artie. Did he like me? Did I like him? My mental struggle was interrupted however, when I heard a door open and close and a moment later, Anna came into the kitchen. I could see the sleep in her eyes and her blonde hair stood out in every direction.

"Good morning," I said.

"Hi," she replied sleepily. I pushed her bowl of dry Cheerios over to her. Slowly, she started eating.

"Did you have fun with Marley and Ryder," I asked. She nodded, "Did you like the movie?" She nodded again, "I was thinking, what if we baked something today?" She looked up from her bowl and nodded. I even saw a hint of a smile.

"Bake what," she asked, almost excitedly.

"Anything you want. We can go to grocery store after you get dressed," She started shoveling Cheerios into her mouth, "Slow down. I'm all yours."


Anna followed me down the baking aisle of Stop and Shop and we stopped in front of the dozens of boxes of cake and cupcake mixes.

"What do you want to make," I asked.

"Cupcakes," she replied, "Then, we can make each one different." That was the first time referred to the two of us together. Before, she had always just said "you" or "me". She grabbed a box of chocolate cake mix and reached for a can of vanilla frosting. She couldn't reach, so I got it down for her.

"That's what you want," I confirmed. She nodded.

"Chocolate with vanilla frosting is my favorite." It was mine too. Like a wave washing over me, I suddenly noticed how much Anna and I were alike. Not just cupcakes, but she had my straight blonde hair and my hazel eyes. She needed two pillows to sleep, just like me. She hated spaghetti and pasta with tomato sauce like me and both of our favorite colors were blue. I smiled as she grabbed a can of rainbow sprinkles. I was eager to find out more similarities and to get closer to my daughter.


"Alright," I began, tearing open the cardboard box of cake mix, removing the bag inside. I cut open the bag and handed it to Anna, "Dump that into the bowl." I watched her carefully pour the contents of the bag into a plastic mixing bowl. I measured out the cooking oil and water and took three eggs out of the carton. Anna grabbed the handleof the measuring cup of water and poured it into the bowl.

"It looks like a little town in a flood," she said, looking up and me and giggling, "See, the little piles of mix were the houses and the water was the flood." I nodded, laughing and handed her the other measuring cup.

"What's the oil?" She hesitated, thinking for an answer.

"An oil spill," she decided, "But nobody got hurt because they were on vacation." I nodded, cracking the eggs on the edge of the bowl.


A timer went off and Anna jumped up.

"They're done," she said happily. I pulled two cupcake tins out of the oven and set them out to cool down.

"We can't decorate them yet because they're too hot, but we can pick the colors for the frosting." While the cupcakes were baking, I had discovered a box of food dyes in the back of my pantry, "What colors do you want?"

"Blue and purple and green." She replied eagerly. I scooped blobs of frosting into small three white bowls and uncapped a bottle of blue food coloring. I squeezed a few drops into one of the bowls and mixed it together.

"Perfect," Anna said. I did the same with the green and purple. Soon we had three perfectly dyed bowls of frosting. I gave Anna a dozen cupcakes to frost and gave myself the other dozen. I was being methodical. Each cupcake was a solid color: four purples, four greens and four blues. Anna however, was being much more creative. She was swirling colors together or creating patterns on it. I was done far before her, so I sat and watched. Every once in a while, she glanced at me. After she did this five times, she asked me,

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Because you're good at that. Look at how pretty they are."

"Thank you," she replied bashfully, looking back at her cupcake. Her hair fell like a curtain, shielding her face from mine.

"Are you okay?" She nodded, smearing purple icing on a cupcake. She hesitated before speaking.

"How come Mommy said that you're my Mommy now?" It was almost like I got the wind knocked out of me. Had Carol really not told Anna she was adopted? Did Anna really not know? I can't tell her the full story yet. She was just starting to trust me and things were starting to look up. If I told her the truth, it would ruin everything.

"Well, I had an agreement with your mom that if something ever happened to her, I would take care of you." This was stretching the truth by a landslide. My agreement I made with Carol was that when Anna turned twelve, I could meet her and spend time with her. This had obviously been completely disregarded.

"What happened to her," she asked, still not pulling her attention away from her cupcake.

"I don't know. Maybe she just needed some alone time. Maybe she was sick. I don't know."

"Did Mommy not love me? Did Mommy not want me? Did Mommy not care about me anymore?" Those words stung. Maybe it was because it came from a five year old. Maybe because I felt guilty for what I had done before she was a week old. Maybe because at that moment, she turned and looked me straight in the eye as she said it. Whatever it was, those words hit me like a punch in the stomach and I suddenly realized how much Carol had hurt Anna.

"I want you to know something," I said, swiveling her chair around to face me and looking her in the eye, "I don't know what your mom's deal is. I really don't know. I don't know why she left you with me. I don't know if she cared. But I do know that I care about you. I always will and I'm always going to love you. I'm always on your side." She nodded, and for the first time ever she said:

"I love you too."


Happy Memorial Day!