* * *
We felines have a dreadful reputation for terrorizing our little brethren, the mice of this world. I saw the look Gregg gave me. As if I’d ever lay a paw on poor Raymond and Julio. And I would never chase down and eat a mouse on the hoof, as it were. I ask you: Who would be more frightening to the wee mice? Lively, startling children nearly a hundred times their size, or an elegant, compact feline like myself?
The children of East Magnolia Montessori are, for the most part, civilized beasts. Well, perhaps not exactly civilized. Generally speaking they’re harmless, even if they are a bit…sticky. They will be crushed to find Raymond and Julio gone in the morning. I believe it’s up to me to find them. Humans can be so limited when it comes to solving mysteries. For one thing, I can’t think of a human that has half the sense of smell that I enjoy. There was a strong scent of fear in that classroom that I believe was left by Raymond and Julio. It’s a clue that will linger, and one which I can’t ignore.
While I’m at it, I’ll see if I can’t do something to help Gregg find a bit of romance. He is no doubt having a rather sad Valentine’s Day. He definitely needs my assistance.
* * *
Holly Burris was no fan of blind dates. They made her feel almost like merchandise, which was why she'd never bothered to try online dating. Her friends encouraged her, but she always ended up deleting her profile when the questions got too personal. What did her sleep and exercise habits have to do with meeting a stranger online, anyway? She checked herself in the long mirror in her brother's guest bedroom: chestnut curls tamed, dark-washed jeans, a loose silk and cashmere sweater, and knee-high brown boots. The heels of the boots were only an inch tall because she was five nine, and she knew that an extra couple of inches put her well out of the dating range of most men.
"Let's go, Hol," Trent, her younger brother, called up the stairs for her. She was visiting him and her five-year-old niece, Ally, for a week while Trent's wife, Andrea, was out of town for work. Holly was less than pleased that he'd arranged for her to have dinner with a guy she didn't know on her very first night in town. And it was no less weird that Trent said it wasn't really a date because he would be there, too.
When she walked into the living room, Trent said, "You look great. Casual."
"Why does this feel like a date? It's Valentine's Day, Trent. This is weird."
Trent laughed. "Chill, sis. We're just going for burgers with a friend of mine. You know I'm a crap cook anyway."
"Daddy said crap!"
Ally came running from the kitchen. She wrapped her small arms around Holly's hips and looked up, her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Why can't I go to dinner? You should stay here."
Holly agreed with her, but knew better than to say so aloud. "Hey, be good for the sitter, okay? I'll bring you back dessert. You can have it for breakfast."
Trent narrowed his gray eyes, which were identical to Holly's. "You're rotten," he said. He looked down at Ally and pointed a finger. "You don't let your mother hear you talk like that, little girl."
Ally giggled and hid her face behind Holly's back. Holly turned quickly to tickle her, making her shriek with laughter. When Holly stopped, Ally was breathless. Finally, she gasped that she had important work to do, and that Holly better not forget dessert. Then she disappeared into the kitchen where the sitter had her dinner waiting.
* * *
The restaurant was a new burger and brew place on the outskirts of town in a renovated brick schoolhouse. In Atlanta, where Holly worked as a real estate agent, it wasn't unusual for restaurants to be busy on a Monday night. But in tiny Wetumpka she was surprised to see the parking lot so full. She was sad to see that someone had tagged the brick wall overlooking the parking lot with a series of signs that meant nothing to her. Inside the building, a couple dozen shining tables of all sizes radiated from a beautifully carved, circular bar with a pillar at its center displaying rows of antique beer steins. The back wall was all kitchen, where several cooks were bustling back and forth.
Holly tried hard not to look too carefully at the crowd. A man sitting alone would stand out among the canoodling Valentine's couples. What if she saw him and he was ugly and he saw the disappointment on her face? She put on a slightly frozen half-smile and turned to her brother. "Lead on, McDuff."
But when she realized he was leading her toward a table near the fireplace where a pleasant-looking man sat, her smile relaxed. Spotting them, the man stood. He had wavy hair about the color of her own, and retro black-framed glasses. He was thin but muscular, and his smile was carefully directed at Trent. Best of all was his height. He was at least six one or six two.
"Good to see you, Gregg. Glad to see the kids haven't worn you down too much." Trent shook Gregg's extended hand. Gregg laughed.
Holly made it through the introduction on auto-pilot. What was her brother thinking, introducing her to a man with kids? Even if he was cute, she wasn't looking to get involved with a guy with a ready-made family. At least now the evening would be free of pressure. She didn't have to worry about dating him.
They sat and talked about the restaurant, and when the server came Trent ordered a pitcher of their house ale on tap without asking anyone else what they wanted. It was so like him, Holly thought. Gregg didn't seem to mind.
When the ale arrived and they'd ordered burgers, Gregg turned his gaze on Holly. His brown eyes were alert and friendly behind his glasses. "You said you're here from Atlanta. What do you do there?"
"Real estate. Houses and small commercial properties. Nothing glamorous."
"Do you have your face on billboards?"
Trent and Holly both laughed. "I can see it now," Trent said. "Your face twenty feet high on the interstate. A proud moment for us all. Mom and Dad would be thrilled. You could be their next Christmas card!"
Holly shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm not that big of a producer. I do okay, but it's a brutal market. Particularly now."
They talked about Atlanta and the differences between living there and somewhere like Wetumpka. Gregg sipped his beer. Holly noticed how neatly trimmed and clean his nails were. So he probably wasn't an artist or a landscaper or an auto mechanic. Trent had told her nothing about him other than that he'd been in town only a year or so.
Their burgers came quickly. Realizing she and Trent had been doing most of the talking, she decided to dive in.
"How old are your kids? Do they live with you?"
Gregg gave her a puzzled look. Trent nearly choked on his beer.
"What did I say? Did I say something wrong?" Holly felt the heat rise to her face. Damn Trent for not telling her anything about the guy. Hadn't Trent said something about kids?
"No kids here." Gregg raised his hands, defensive. "Never."
Holly looked at Trent, who was recovering. "You said something about kids wearing him out when we came in, didn't you?"
Now it was Gregg's turn to laugh. "He meant the students. At my school. I teach five-year-olds, but we have a classroom for threes and fours, too."
Holly swatted Trent's arm with her napkin.
"Hey, don't blame me," Trent said. "You're the one who made the assumption. You know what happens when you assume."
She turned back to Gregg. "I'm sorry. My brother's an ass. I think that's what he's trying to tell us." So he was a kindergarten teacher. That was something different.
"Ally's in my class. She's a creative little girl, and definitely spirited."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Holly said with a smile. "She's what my Grandpa used to call a pistol. She almost never sits still."
"You'd be surprised. She shows a lot of concentration when she's working on something she likes. She's always the first one to volunteer to clean the mouse habitat, even when it's not her day. Though I guess that will change tomorrow."
Trent gave him a curious look. Gregg explained how he'd found the cage open and the mice gone after the Valentine's Day party. "Couldn't find them anywhere."
"I hope you don’t have any cats or snakes in the classroom,” Holly said.
"Well, there’s a cat who comes by. Kind of our mascot. But he’s a good guy, and not the sort to eat mice, I think."
When their plates were eventually cleared, Trent ordered one of the restaurant's giant mocha ice cream sundaes and three spoons. They giggled like children as they jockeyed for the best parts. Holly felt a warm glow that made her reluctant to go back out into the cool February evening.
Trent paid the bill over Gregg's objections, saying it was his party. Then they went out to their cars. The way Gregg walked her to the Acura and opened the door for her felt strangely natural. Though maybe it was just the beer? She liked his soft smile. Seriously, though. He was a kindergarten teacher, and she knew next to nothing about kids who weren’t Ally. What could they possibly have in common?
"Oh, damn!" she said, after she was settled in the passenger seat. "I promised Ally I'd bring her home a dessert."
"For breakfast, as I recall," Trent said. "You're a terrible influence."
"I can't take her a sundae. It wouldn't last until tomorrow."
Gregg bent down slightly. "They've got great brownies." Then he gave her a wicked little smile. "Although we really try to emphasize good nutrition with the kids."
Holly started out of the car, and Gregg put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll grab one. They've got them in the case by their carryout. Be right back."
"Are you sure?" If Holly's voice reached him, he chose not to answer as he strode away. It seemed like he was halfway back to the restaurant already.
Trent started the car. "He's a good guy," he said, with a glance at Holly.
She didn't answer. Her mind was busy noticing how good Gregg Davidson looked in his blue jeans beneath the parking lot lights.
* * *
It was 8:45 Tuesday morning, and Gregg hurriedly pushed open one of the school's double front doors carrying a paint roller and pan of paint. Instead of the empty driveway he'd hoped to see, he encountered the startled faces of the school's only set of twins, Eva and Lorelei Larchick. They looked up at the other door with its painted curse words he knew they could both probably easily sound out, if not read, their mouths open. Their mother was leaning out the minivan window, calling them to get right back here, this moment! He'd forgotten that the Larchicks were always early on Tuesdays.
"They can go on in and put their things away," he said to the girls' mother. She was a gossipy, tidy woman who could be counted on to make decent gluten-free cookies, but also dominate the parents' meetings. He was hopeful that she'd just drive away, but he knew he couldn't be so lucky.
"How did that get there? What's going on?" she demanded.
He wanted to say that it was pretty damned obvious what had happened, but instead he used the same calming voice he used with frustrated children. "It's been happening all over town. I guess it was our turn. It's very disappointing." He shrugged and gave her his best isn't it too bad look.
"I wish you had called us. Maybe delayed the school's opening."
He was used to parents' advice. "I just went into auto mode and went to grab the paint. Do you want to help?"
It was the right question. "No. I've got to get to Pilates. I'm already late."
As she drove away, Eva's small voice came up to him. "Mommy hates to paint. Says it gives her a headache. Did you paint the nasty words on the wall? Lorelei wants to know." Lorelei took her thumb out of her mouth and nodded. She didn't talk if she felt like she needed her thumb more at that moment.
He squatted down to Eva and Lorelei's level. "I did not paint that word or any of those pictures on the doors, but I'm going to paint over them right now. You two go in and use your free time to work or read."
When they were gone, Gregg skimmed the paint roller through the pan of bright blue paint and made a zig-zag pattern over one of the doors. They were metal security-style doors that he'd wanted to replace right away with something less intimidating, but it wasn't yet in the budget. That was probably a good thing, because covering up graffiti on a set of less industrial doors would've been a bigger problem.
He worked quickly and had the worst of the writing on the second door covered up when other students started showing up, fascinated with what he was doing. His student teacher finally arrived—late, as usual—and hurried in to supervise the room.
"It's a little chilly for painting this morning. You start early."
Gregg turned to see Holly Burris smiling mischievously. Ally stood beside her, a crumb of chocolate on her pink sweater revealing that she'd indeed had the brownie for breakfast.
"Can I have a turn?" Ally jumped up and down.
"No. This is only my job. Go into class, please."
When Ally disappeared inside, he told Holly about the graffiti and how it had been happening all over town the past few weeks. "The police think it's some kids because of a witness's account. Until now they hadn't resorted to foul language. This was pretty ripe."
"Are the police doing anything about it?"
"They say they're increasing night patrols, but they don't really have the staff to do much." Gregg knew he needed to finish and get to the classroom, but he found himself wanting Holly to stay. "Hey, you haven't observed Ally in class. Do you want to hang around a while? We can always use help. Especially with the reading activities."
* * *
There were lots of questions at morning circle time about Raymond and Julio. He'd expected some tears, but the children seemed confident that the mice would find their way back to their habitat. How resilient they were. But he wasn't so certain. The mice could've gone out the window or were maybe holed up somewhere in the old building.
When the police arrived, everything came to a stop. The officer had visited the classroom before, but now he said his hellos to the class, then followed Gregg to his office. Gregg didn't have much hope that the officer could help, but Gregg would get any information he could.
* * *
Holly felt like she was a hit in the classroom, which was a lot of fun. She could tell the children were used to having parent volunteers, but her being Ally's aunt seemed to make Ally especially proud. After Gregg led their morning circle time, Ally showed her around the room, pointing out her preferred jobs. "We got to wrap Band Aid boxes in wrapping paper before, but the work is gone now. It was my favorite."
"Are you sad about the mice?" They were a frequent topic of conversation at the house, and Ally had been allowed to bring them home over the October break.
Ally shook her head. "They told me they didn't like it here very much. I bet they ran away."
"How did they get the cage open?"
Ally crooked her finger to get Holly to come closer. She whispered. "It was that lady. Miss Marian. She has glasses on her necklace."
This answer made sense given Ally's affection for Disney movies with female villains. Holly suspected Ally was making up the answer because she didn't know, or was covering for one of the other children. Or had Ally herself done it? She'd seemed confident about the mice telling her they didn't like it there. Well, the mice hadn't really spoken to her, but still...She looked down at her niece with her blond curls like her mother's and the raincloud gray eyes of Holly's side of the family.
Ally grabbed her hand, her serious mood gone. "I can read some Bob books to you. I'm on the last box!"
* * *
Holly started the walk to her brother's house, wishing there were a coffee shop on the way. She had only meant to drop Ally off and return to go for a run. But the air had warmed considerably since she'd arrived at the school, and the hint of humidity in the air reminded her that mid-February was almost spring here in Alabama.
About a block from the school she had the strangest sensation that someone was following her. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. She had a great loft in a section of Atlanta that was prone to mugging crimes, and so she was always on alert when she left to run in the park on her own. Now, she couldn't hear any
footsteps. A car passed by, and then a rumbling gravel truck. With the noise and dust of the truck for a kind of cover, Holly looked over her shoulder. Nothing. When the feeling didn't go away, she stopped dead and turned again. Glancing down she saw that a large black cat had stopped on the sidewalk as well. She watched as he sat down nonchalantly, swishing his tail. He looked around as though he, too, thought someone was following.
Holly laughed. She wasn't one of those people who thought black cats were suspicious. This one wore a collar, so it wasn't a stray. Maybe it was just lonely? She said hello to it, then resumed walking. Every so often she looked back to see that it was keeping pace with her. How strange. She'd never been a cat magnet before.
"Go home, cat." She worried that it would get lost, unable to find its way home. What would Trent say if she accidentally brought home someone else's cat?
When she'd climbed the porch steps of Trent's house, with its historical plaque bearing the date 1901, she turned to see the cat at the end of the walk. Again it sat down. It didn't appear inclined to follow her inside, but was apparently content to have walked her home. Once inside, she resisted the urge to take it a saucer of milk or part of a hot dog from the refrigerator. Trent would definitely not appreciate her feeding the local cats. Anyway, this one looked pretty well-fed.
By the time she had drunk some water, changed into her running shorts and shoes, and left the house to go on her run, the cat was gone.
The Trouble with Cupid Page 4