by Nic Saint
I could have pointed out that it wasn’t God who’d put Grandma up to this, but I had a feeling keeping mum was the safer option at this juncture. Safe behind the bulwark of Chase Kingsley’s brawny arms, Dooley and I had front-row seats to the show that was about to begin, and I for one was ready to enjoy it to its full potential. I’d never seen Odelia and her grandmother square off before, and it promised to be a corker.
Just then, a third party joined the fray. I recognized her as Scarlett Canyon, and she had the dizzyingly deep neckline to live up to her last name.
“Ooh, Philippe, darling. I thought I’d find you here,” she purred as she swooped down on the pale youth, and smothered him with both kisses and some prime real estate.
“Get off him, you tramp!” Gran snapped, indignant. “That’s my grandson you’re slobbering over!”
Scarlett straightened, allowing Philippe to come up for air and adjust his glasses. “Did you say something, you bony old witch?”
“I said that’s my grandson! Get away from him!”
Scarlett wrapped her arms possessively around the young man, draping herself all over him in the process. Once again his glasses—steamed up by now—went askew. “He’s mine, Vesta. All mine. I mothered his father and I won’t let you take him away from me again.”
“I mothered his father!”
“Says you.”
“I think I would remember giving birth to a fine specimen like… Burt Goldsmith’s son.”
Scarlett threw her head back in a raucous laugh. “You don’t even know his name, do you?”
“I do,” said Gran, a dark frown marring her features. “His name is…” She darted a hopeful look at Philippe, trying to cast him in the role of her personal prompter. But Philippe Goldsmith was struggling with the weight of Scarlett’s full-bodied presence on his shoulders and was momentarily lost to the world.
“His name was Hunter Goldsmith. I say ‘was’ because he died—from a broken heart because he missed his dear precious mother so. And why do I know these things? Because I christened him Hunter before Burt and I were so brutally separated by his unfeeling and cold-hearted parents.” Scarlett sniffed theatrically. “Which is why his death comes as such a shocking blow. Our final chance at the happy reunion. Ripped away by cruel, cruel fate!”
“Oh, you’re full of crap,” Grandma said, and made a menacing step in her rival’s direction. “I’ll show you what cruel, cruel fate can do to a painted hussy like you!”
Scarlett reared back, but before Gran could act out her threat, Chase stepped between the two women. I don’t know how he did it, for he had his arms full of feline, but he still managed to act the perfect traffic cop, holding up his hands at the two old ladies.
“You’re coming with us now,” he growled at Grandma, who nodded reluctantly. And to Scarlett, he grunted, “And you better behave, Mrs. Canyon, or I’ll have to write you up for disorderly conduct, you understand?”
The woman knew better than to protest, and nodded furiously. But when Gran’s back was turned, she still managed to stick out her tongue at her longtime nemesis.
“I’m starting to like this Chase guy, Max,” said Dooley. “First he breaks up a vicious cat fight and now a nasty old lady fight. I don’t know how he does it but he does it very well.”
“The man is a god amongst men,” I agreed.
And then we were finally on our way home. Not a moment too soon. I enjoy helping out my human, but the awful truth of the matter is: sometimes it’s hard to be a cat.
Chapter 16
The Pooles were all gathered in Tex and Marge’s kitchen: Odelia, Marge and Alec standing in a small circle around Gran, who was seated at the kitchen table, like a suspect at the police station, or an accused standing trial. Chase had left, wisely deciding this was a matter best handled by the family and not wanting to interfere. Tex, meanwhile, was busying himself washing the dishes, though judging from the clatter of cups and plates smashing against each other he was more engaged in blowing off some much-needed steam.
“I’m telling you nicely, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “Drop this nonsense right this minute.”
“I’m not dropping this nonsense,” said Gran stubbornly. “Philippe Goldsmith is a nice young man and he is my grandson. Can I help it if he’s taken such a shine to me? He says he’ll put me up in the Goldsmith mansion someplace in Colorado and pamper me for the rest of my natural life.” She held up her wrinkly hands. “It’s an offer I can’t possibly refuse!”
“It’s an offer you will refuse,” said Marge. “Because you’re not Philippe’s grandmother. There’s no way you had a child and then promptly forgot about it.”
“Yes, you may be daft but you’re not that daft,” grumbled Alec.
“Watch your tongue,” Gran warned. “I am still your mother.”
“Yes, you are. My mother—not this Hunter Goldsmith, whoever he was.”
“Nice name, Hunter,” mused Grandma. “I can’t remember giving it to him but I must have. Just the kind of name I would have given a healthy baby boy.” She darted a quick look at Alec. “Your dad named you, of course. I wanted to call you Filip and Marge Sandra.”
Alec and Marge glanced at one another. “F. Lip and S. Lip. Flip and Slip. Nice one, Ma,” Alec said. “Good thing you left the naming to Dad.”
Grandma shrugged. “They’re nice-sounding names. Not like Alec and Marge. I’ve always hated those names.”
“And you’re telling us now,” said Marge.
“I’m sorry, dear,” said Grandma. “You had to find out sometime. Why not now, when I’m moving on to my first family?” She patted Mom’s cheek. “I like this family, I really do, but I was born to be a woman of substance, and my ship has finally come in.”
Dad made a disgusted sound and chipped some more China. Odelia decided this was ridiculous. “You can’t really expect the Goldsmiths to take your word for this, Gran,” she said. “They’re bound to do a DNA test—see if you’re really related or some kind of con artist.”
“Oh, they already did,” said Gran in a careless tone. “Philippe is a very meticulous young man—he had his personal physician take a swab of my saliva and said the lab will fast-track the processing. Until then I’m a guest at his home. His casa is my casa. Those were his exact words.” She smiled beatifically. “Such a nice young man. Intelligent, rich, well-spoken. I’m glad my absence from his life hasn’t held him back. Of course now that we found each other I’ll be a major influence on him. He’ll finally flourish and reach his full potential.”
Tex squeezed some more unintelligible noises from his throat.
“He might even name a school after me,” Gran continued. “The Goldsmiths are big on education. Major contributors to the University of Colorado and other local institutions of higher education. I’ll fit right in. I’m big on education myself.”
“You dropped out of school when you were sixteen!” Alec cried.
“And I’ve regretted it since,” she insisted. She smiled. “Maybe I’ll go back to school. Get a degree in astrophysics or something. I could work for NASA. The sky is the limit now.”
“Gran, this is crazy,” said Odelia. “The test results will show that you’re not related and the Goldsmiths will ship you right back home!”
“No, they won’t,” said the old lady stubbornly. “First of all I did have Burt’s child—even if my memory is a little fuzzy on the details. And secondly I intend to ingratiate myself to the Goldsmiths in such a way that they’ll consider me their honorary grandmother.” She nodded decidedly. “One way or another, I’m a Goldsmith now, and I fully intend to live up to the name. I might even run for governor of Colorado. Isn’t that what rich people do? But first I need to get my NASA degree. Tom Hanks is waiting for me up there in Apollo 13.”
“Please, God, take me now,” muttered Dad, and threw down the dish brush.
Chapter 17
I stared at Brutus who was staring at the box of pills Odelia had bought. The box of pills were Vena’s idea. After ex
amining the brutish black cat—though a lot less brutish since he’d confided his big secret in me—she’d determined everything was A-Okay with his plumbing. Which told her the issue was between his ears. No idea what she meant by that. Vena also said he needed a shrink, but since cat shrinks are hard to find she decided to give him some pills to alleviate his predicament. It should put the pep right back in his pee-pee.
Before leaving the house, Odelia laid out a couple of pills, and told Brutus to take one with a little water. And now Brutus was staring at the pills and I was staring at him. And since Dooley was staring at me staring at Brutus staring at the pills, things were a little awkward.
Harriet, of course, was staring at herself. In the mirror in the bathroom. She’d discovered that if she jumped on top of the wash basin, she could study herself to her heart’s content, which was what she was doing right now.
“I don’t like it, Max,” Dooley said finally.
“What don’t you like, Dooley?” I said.
“The collar. Makes you look weird.”
Just what I needed. A motivational speech.
“That’s because collars look weird on all cats, Dooley,” I pointed out. “Because cats weren’t designed to wear collars.”
“I know that. But on you it looks extra weird. Probably because it’s too tight. I can see all kinds of flab sticking out. Like someone tied a rubber band around a whale.”
He was right. Vena had used the final hole punched into the collar and still it was too tight around my neck. I’d told Odelia it was because the collar was too small. Vena had said it was because I was too fat, and she’d threatened to put me on another one of her diets. In her infinite wisdom Odelia had decided that the diet would have to wait until after the flea ordeal had been dealt with. I hoped by then she would have forgotten about the diet thing.
“Just take it already,” I told Brutus, tiring of this waiting game.
He chewed his lower lip. “I don’t know, Max. What if my pee-pee falls off?”
“Why would your pee-pee fall off?”
“I read about these pills. There’s always side effects. And one of the side effects is that your pee-pee swells up and dies. What am I going to tell Harriet if my pee-pee dies?”
“Your pee-pee isn’t going to die from a teeny tiny pill. Just think how happy Harriet will be if your machinery works like it should. Focus on the light, Brutus, not the darkness.”
Dooley transferred his attention from my tight collar to Brutus. “What’s his deal?” he asked. Then he remembered. “Oh, the pee-pee thing. Right.”
Brutus’s eyes went wide. “You told him?!”
“Of course I told him. He’s my best friend.”
“I told you in confidence!”
“And I told Dooley in confidence.”
He groaned. “Tell me you didn’t tell Harriet.”
“I didn’t tell Harriet,” said Dooley. “So why don’t you take the pill, Brutus?”
His bedside manners were a little lacking in tact and delicacy, I felt, and some of the old rancor had slipped back into his tone. It was obvious my helping Brutus still rankled.
“Are you deaf? I just told Max about the side effects.”
“So what if your thingy falls off? Who cares?”
“I care! And Harriet will care if I can’t…” He chewed his lip again.
“She’ll find another boyfriend,” said Dooley carelessly. “Plenty of cats in the sea.”
Brutus gave him a look that could kill, and I had the distinct impression another cat fight was brewing. And since Chase wasn’t here to break up the fight, I told Dooley, “Go look for Odelia’s pill, Dooley. I’m sure it’s in the bathroom upstairs somewhere.”
His eyes lit up, like I knew they would. “She has the pill?”
“She has the pill. I’m one hundred percent sure.” More like fifty percent, but giving false hope is one of the secrets of making friends and influencing cats.
And off he was, at a happy trot. If he could find proof that Odelia was on the pill, and not about to pop out a litter of babies, he would finally be happy. And Brutus and I would have some peace and quiet to think this other pill thing through.
“Just take it,” I told Brutus. “See what happens.”
“Why don’t you take it? Then if your pee-pee stays firmly attached I’ll know it’s safe.”
I laughed. “I don’t have issues, Brutus. You do.”
“Don’t remind me,” he grunted, and unsheathed a sharp claw.
I gulped. Brutus might be domesticated, to some extent, but there was still something of the wild animal in him. “Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll take one if you’ll take one. How is that?”
He sheathed the claw. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, Max—you’re a real pal,” he said, visibly touched.
As long as he stopped whining about his pee-pee, I was prepared to take any pill.
So I jumped on top of the chair, then on top of the table, and gobbled up one of the pills Odelia had laid out. I didn’t even need to take it with a little water. Brutus, who’d made the jump to the table in one go—admittedly he is a little slimmer than me—swallowed his pill. And then we stared at one another. Slowly, but inexorably, our gazes lowered. Then, realizing what we were doing, we both looked away again.
“I don’t feel nothing,” said Brutus after a moment.
“I don’t feel nothing either,” I confessed.
“Let’s take another pill,” said Brutus.
“I’m not taking another pill,” I said.
“Chicken.”
“Not!”
“Then take it.”
“You take it.”
“Oh, I will,” he said, and gobbled up another pill, crunching it between his teeth.
I couldn’t say no. My whole cathood depended on it. So I followed suit.
More minutes passed. Nothing happened.
“Maybe we should take another one,” said Brutus.
I decided this time to beat him to it, and we both dove for the pills.
Just as I was gobbling down pill number five, feeling mighty manly, Dooley strode in, looking a little pale around the nostrils.
“You guys,” he said, retching slightly. “I don’t feel so good.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I found Odelia’s pills.”
“Hey, that’s good, right?”
“And then I ate one.”
“You did what?”
He retched some more. “They looked like white kibble!”
“Oh, Dooley,” I said, and then I retched, too.
Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling so hot myself.
And when I glanced over at Brutus, he looked like he was about to pass out.
Five minutes later, when Odelia walked in, back from giving Grandma the tongue-lashing the old lady deserved, she found three cats puking their guts out, with a fourth, Harriet, wearily shaking her head at so much tomfoolery. Then Harriet dug her teeth into her collar for some reason and moments later joined the rest of us in the puking department.
Chapter 18
As Odelia walked out of the house, laden with cats, she bumped into Chase, who immediately offered to take over some of the furry creatures. She unloaded Brutus and Harriet in his arms and took Max and Dooley into the car, followed by the new cat lover.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asked as he placed Brutus and Harriet on the backseat.
She took a deep breath. “As far as I can tell,” she said, slipping behind the wheel as Chase dropped down in the passenger seat, “Brutus ate too many vitamin tablets, so did Max, Dooley ate one of my pills, and Harriet tried to chew through her collar.”
“It doesn’t look good on me,” the white cat said, panting heavily. “Cramps my style.”
Chase directed a worried look at the foursome in the backseat. “You think they’ll live?”
“We’re gonna die!” Dooley cried. “I knew it!
We’re dead meat!”
“They’ll live,” Odelia said, stomping on the accelerator. The car jumped away from the curb and then they were on their way to Vena—for the second time that day.
“Thank God,” said Chase. “I love the little suckers to death. Especially Max. He’s such a special cat, don’t you think? I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that about any animal. Truth.”
She frowned. He was laying it on a little thick now. “Max is great,” she said curtly. When he wasn’t getting into a pill-swallowing competition with Brutus.
“Oh, he’s fantastic,” said Chase, slapping his thigh. “I love the little guy to death. Never thought I could ever love a cat again, I mean—after what happened to Smokey.”
“I thought your cat’s name was Blackie?”
“That’s what I meant. Blackie. Dear, sweet Blackie.”
She cut a quick glance sideways. Damn, the man looked good in profile. “Did you and Uncle Alec happen to talk about Max, by any chance?”
“Nope,” he said, feigning innocence. “Not a word. Me and Alec? We talk about the Yankees and the Mets, about work, and that’s it. Not a word about cats. Why would we?”
She had the distinct impression that this sudden fondness of cats didn’t come out of nowhere. Alec had probably told Chase that the surest way to his niece’s heart was through her cats. Why else would he be all over Max all of a sudden? “You know? Now that you and Max have developed such a strong and powerful bond, maybe you can do me a favor?”
“Sure. Anything. Anything for sweet, sweet Maxie.”
“Ugh,” Max groaned from the backseat, then retched some more.
“With Grandma giving us all such a hard time, I feel I should spend some time at my parents’ house. Try to talk some sense into the old lady. Can I rely on you to catsit for me?”
He seemed taken aback. “Catsit?”
“Yeah, just, you know, make sure they’re fed and cleaned—Vena gave me a flea comb to apply with a little bit of soapy water—and don’t forget to clean out their litter box.”