A Man of Influence

by Melinda Curtis

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Chad,” Rose said with unusual snappishness. “You might end up adopting a cat.”

  Mildred and Agnes shushed her.

  Unfazed, Felix chuckled.

  Rutgar waved to him from a table at the back. “Try the pizza bagel.”

  The last time he’d felt this type of camaraderie, he’d been in school.

  “Where’s Jessica?” The first woman in line asked. “I loved how she took my recipe for coffee gelatin and made it into something I’d serve for dessert.”

  Chad had liked that one, too. It was a recipe born from a sugar shortage during World War II. Since there were already gelatin packets in the store, they’d been mixed with coffee, giving it a fruitier taste. Strawberry coffee? Wasn’t his cup. Jessica had come up with the idea to replace the amount of water added to gelatin with coffee to make a coffee gelatin mold. Great with whipped cream.

  “Jessica’s in the back.” Tracy’s gaze caught on Chad’s. Her smile brightened—making Chad feel ten feet tall—and then she toned it way back—leaving Chad feeling bereft. “Can I get you anything? Jess will...have a moment when your order comes up.”

  That empty feeling returned to his chest. In the few days since he’d arrived, Tracy was talking smooth, she was writing sharp and she was probably healthier than he was— unbruised and with glowing cheeks.

  She doesn’t need me.

  Chad sagged against the bakery case.

  Tracy doesn’t need me.

  It shouldn’t have hit him so hard. But it did, and he moved forward very much aware of his limitations as a man. If it wasn’t for the Happy Bachelor, they might pursue a relationship. The entire premise of the column was targeted to smart, single men enjoying the single life.

  He glanced at Tracy again. At her sunny hair and soft smile. How had she snuck up on him like this? How had she captured a corner of his heart? Why did he care that she was independent and capable?

  Because his parents hadn’t been. Not for years.

  He looked away, at the elderly clientele. They all needed someone. They relied upon the community here in town.

  This is the story.

  Chad rejected it, dug deeper, thought about Tracy and his parents. The needing. The not needing. He’d rather be loved than needed or not needed any day. He’d rather be loved by...

  His gaze cut back to Tracy, but he wouldn’t allow himself to complete the thought.

  He was an idiot. He was at a tipping point in his career and she did something to his writing that could undermine every bit of the reputation he’d built.

  When it was his turn, he needed to play it cool.

  When it was his turn, he needed to keep things impersonal.

  When it was his turn, he turned on the charm. “Loved what you did with the blog.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed, which only made her blue eyes seem bluer. “What can I get for you today?”

  He didn’t like being treated like other customers. She’d kissed him. Shouldn’t that mean she’d look at him with longing? Shouldn’t that mean she’d smile at him as if he hung the moon? Or make excuses to touch his hand or his shoulder or his face?

  He pretended to study the offerings in the case, even though he’d already decided on the pizza bagel to go with his homegrown tomato. “There’s a gentle humor in your blog delivery.”

  “That’s the way I approach life.” Her smile. It was one he’d seen her give Rose while he was in line.

  He didn’t want that friend-to-all smile. “Regardless, it’s good writing.” Not the type he’d contracted for at the Lampoon, but she had a knack for telling a cohesive story. Not everyone did.

  She frowned as she rang his order. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” She moved her hands to emphasize her displeasure, but she managed to take his money without touching him.

  “I’m not surprised. I’m envious.” He was taken aback that it was true. “Your page visits jumped up when I checked them this morning.”

  “Really?” There was the smile she’d given him right before she’d kissed him. “I’ll have to check.”

  Their conversation felt mundane. He wanted to remind her he was leaving in a few days and exchange contact information. He wanted her to slip into his arms so she could talk up a storm.

  He sat at a table near Eunice and sent Marty an email, asking if he liked the column.

  When Flynn came in for a coffee refill, he told him about the fence down at Leona’s.

  Flynn didn’t invite him to help.

  Chad had to volunteer.

  * * *

  MILDRED HADN’T OWNED a pet since she was a girl. Being a race car driver, she’d never had the time to care for one. And when she’d moved to Harmony Valley, she’d jumped into life with both feet and created a busy one.

  It was nice to have Dusty around the house. He wasn’t much of a talker except when he wanted to be fed. The rest of the time he laid claim to Mildred and the house like a king to his castle. Currently, he was wrapped around her neck like an orange, purring muffler.

  Agnes and Rose knocked on the front door and then let themselves in. They’d only dropped her off an hour ago.

  Mildred stayed in her recliner, lest Dusty be disturbed. The king had conquered her.

  Rose came to stand next to her chair. She touched the cat with one finger.

  Dusty stopped purring and lifted his regal head to stare at Rose.

  “I had to make sure he was real.” Satisfied, Rose took a seat on the couch.

  “Did I forget something on the schedule?” Mildred tried to keep all their activities straight in her head, because she couldn’t see calendar notations. Her vision had gotten so bad, Agnes had begun paying her bills.

  Agnes petted Dusty. “That wind storm last night blew the fence down between your backyard and Leona’s. Flynn, Slade and Chad are coming by to fix it.” She reached in her purse and pulled out something gray, waved it beneath Dusty’s nose and then threw it toward the hearth. “Get the mouse, kitty. Didn’t you smell the catnip?”

  Dusty sighed and laid his head back down on Mildred’s shoulder.

  Rose went over to pick it up. She sniffed it. “How old is this toy?”

  “I just bought it at the vet’s this morning.” Agnes huffed, which Mildred took as an indication that the mouse was going back to the veterinary office.

  Rose gave the mouse to Agnes. “Let’s hope that travel writer doesn’t hurt himself again.”

  “He means well, but he doesn’t have much experience being handy.” Agnes tapped her forehead and tsked. “That bruise.”

  “They’re going to be mending fences,” Mildred murmured. “Between Leona and me.” She didn’t like the metaphor. She and Leona would never see eye-to-eye. Mildred was a stout supporter of Phil’s.

  “Here they are now.” Rose sounded excited. “Look at all that equipment. Power tools and compressors and the like.”

  “It’s warm enough to watch with a jacket on.” Agnes disappeared to the rear of the house. “I’ll wipe off the patio chairs.”

  Dusty perked up when he heard the back door open and close.

  “I’m supposed to keep Dusty inside for a week so he knows this is his home.” There were other reasons Mildred had wanted Dusty to stay inside, but she didn’t want to say them out loud for fear of appearing more foolish than she already had for taking the cat home.

  “Cat stays indoors. Got it.” Rose waved at the men out front. “I’m glad you gave up the idea of dating Phil.”

  “Why?” Mildred hadn’t given up. She’d just been busy with Dusty.

  “We’re the band!” Rose played air guitar.

  “Seats are ready,” Agnes called.

  Dusty leapt off Mildred’s chest.

  “Don’t let the cat o
ut,” Mildred shouted apprehensively.

  “Oops.” Agnes tskd. “Here kitty. Shoot, he’s running across the grass.”

  Mildred was struck with fear. It had only been a few days. What if Dusty ran away? “Is he coming back?” She lurched to her feet and reached for her walker.

  “I’ve got your coat.” Rose trailed behind her.

  “He’s heading for Leona’s big tree.” Agnes provided the play-by-play.

  Mildred saw the open doorway and the sunlit yard with brown leaves scattered about her grass like confetti in Times Square on New Year’s morning. The brisk air washed over her. The tree—the huge pine—was in Leona’s yard. That tree was to cats what an eight-cylinder five-speed was to a rookie racer. Back when she could see better, she’d watched cats climb up that tree and sit, waiting for squirrels or waiting for the courage to get down.

  “There he goes. Up the trunk.” Agnes’ announcement was demoralizing.

  “Oh, bother.” Mildred slowed to lift her walker carefully over the threshold. “Felix said Dusty loves climbing trees and hates getting down.”

  “He’s up pretty high. Maybe thirty feet.” Agnes shaded her eyes from the sun.

  Mildred’s spirits sank. She wheeled her way across the patio, wishing for her binoculars so she might try to spot the cat in the tree. All her eyes registered was a big fuzzy tree. And then she heard a heart-wrenching meow. “Call Felix. Call the volunteer fire department. Call the sheriff.”

  “What’s up, ladies?” Flynn appeared from the side yard, carrying something big, red and bulky.

  “Runaway cat up Leona’s big tree,” Rose summarized.

  “Felix said Dusty can’t get down from trees,” Mildred wailed.

  Flynn set down the big whatever-it-was on the patio. “Ladies, let’s sit. No reason to panic.”

  “No reason to...?” Mildred’s voice cracked. “My cat is stuck up a tree!” Worse, Leona’s tree. “He could fall. He could break something trying to get down. He could have a heart attack from the stress.”

  Mildred’s heart was beating overtime.

  Chad appeared before her with a calm touch on her arm. “How about we sit down?” His voice was as calm as his touch. Tracy really shouldn’t let this one go, even if reporters didn’t make much money. “I’ve never seen a dead cat in a tree, have you?”

  Tracy shouldn’t waste her time with him. He was a callous lout. “My cat is different.” But Mildred let him help her sit in a chair. The wind mixed up the leaves on the lawn and snuck up Mildred’s ankles. “Where’s my coat?”

  Rose helped her put it on. “Dusty’s a brave one. He went up higher.” Rose dragged a chair next to Mildred, as if Dusty’s demise was going to be good viewing.

  Dusty meowed, a cry for help if Mildred had ever heard one.

  “Maybe there’s a bird in that tree,” Agnes said.

  “Squirrels mostly,” Chad said infuriatingly calm. “I’ve seen them from my window.”

  “Maybe he’ll kill something and come down.” Agnes wasn’t giving pessimism a chance, bless her.

  Birds. Critters. That was another reason Mildred had wanted to keep Dusty an indoor cat. Felix claimed he was a mighty hunter. Her vision was so bad, she didn’t think she could see gutted mice or plucked bird parts if Dusty brought them to the back porch. Or worse—she shuddered—inside. “I never should have taken that cat.”

  “Nonsense.” Agnes sat on the other side of her. “You love that cat and he loves you.”

  “But he doesn’t love me enough to stay.” Mildred lowered her voice to a whisper. “I need to rethink the Phil thing.”

  “Let’s not start that again.” Rose patted her arm. “The band. Think of the band.”

  “I should have had another child when I retired from racing.” Mildred was on the Pity Train, seated in first class. “Then I wouldn’t be lonely and I wouldn’t need a disloyal cat.”

  “Didn’t you retire when you were forty because of that wreck?” Rose clasped Mildred’s hand. “I remember when I first saw you, I thought you looked like death. Chad’s injuries look like he’s been tickled compared to what you were like after your accident.”

  “My injuries were bad,” Mildred admitted with stiff lips. Alistair McKinney had forced her into a wall to prove women shouldn’t race. All he’d done was prove he was pond scum and get banned from the circuit.

  “You moved here when you were still recovering.” Agnes took her other hand. “You wouldn’t have been able to care for a child. You could barely take care of yourself and your baby girl.”

  “I know. She was five and deserved a brother or sister.” Mildred’s voice sounded as shaky as Phil’s hands. “I could have adopted later. Forty-five isn’t too old to raise a baby nowadays.”

  Chad knelt in front of Mildred. “But you wouldn’t have always been there for a child you had late in life. You wouldn’t have been there for the majority of their lives.”

  She knew where he was going with this. “Is it selfish to want to give love unconditionally? Is it selfish to want someone to love you unconditionally in return?”

  “No,” he said. But the word was so faint, Mildred wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken.

  “If I thought like you do,” Mildred said, gasping because she was on the verge of crying. “I wouldn’t have taken Dusty for the simple reason that I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t die tomorrow. But now I’ve come to love him and he’s going to die up there in that tree!”

  “Relax,” Agnes soothed. “Chad will get Dusty down. Won’t you, Chad?”

  He stood. “I will.”

  Mildred sniffed. “If you get him down, I’ll put a good word in for you with Tracy.”

  He hesitated. And for a moment, Mildred thought he was going to reject her offer. Instead, he said, “Thank you.”

  He walked off and Mildred squeezed both her friends’ hands. “It’s back to Phil.” Because Hiro hadn’t said anything to her since their talk about her fence yesterday morning. And at least with Phil, she could be sure he wouldn’t climb a tree and try to kill himself.

  * * *

  “WHAT SHOULD WE do about the cat?” Flynn stared up into the branches, which swayed in the wind.

  “He’ll come down in his own time.” Chad wasn’t keen on waiting. Mildred’s words had touched him. Yes, his parents were selfish to have a child so late, but they hadn’t made the choice lightly. He’d been loved the best way they knew how. And yet, he hadn’t given his love to anyone other than a pet. He’d held on to his feelings for fear if he gave love to someone, they might disappear too quickly, the same as his parents. Or that he’d experience the same rollercoaster of emotions they had.

  He thought of Tracy’s determined approach to life and its challenges. He recalled the joy he felt at her smile and the promise he’d sensed in her kiss.

  He’d walked away from Tracy?

  Yes. And despite what he felt for her, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do it again. His writing defined who he was and it would show the Lampoon they’d made a mistake.

  “Kitty might go all the way to the top if we turn on the nail gun compressor,” Slade said.

  “I’m not hammering nails the old-school way.” Chad had enough scars and bruises to last him awhile.

  “What’s going on out here?” Leona demanded, standing in the doorway to her sunroom, looking as if they’d disrupted a most important business meeting.

  “Mildred’s cat is up your tree,” Chad said, noticing that Flynn and Slade had retreated, hopefully to lug the fence boards from Flynn’s truck. He didn’t fancy adding splinters to his list of woes.

  Leona returned inside, leaving Chad to call for the cat beneath the sixty-foot-tall tree.

  Chad wasn’t worried about the cat. He was worried Mildred might work herself into a tizzy. And the tizzy
would lead to something more serious. He was worried he’d continue to let the opportunity for love with Tracy pass him by. And that emptiness would be a permanent state of being.

  Leona reappeared. She carried a can of tuna. She banged the can with a fork the same way a wedding guest tapped their wineglass to encourage a kiss. “Kitty-kitty-kitty,” she crooned in a voice that sounded almost warm.

  “Well, what do you know.” Chad chuckled. “The ice queen has a heart.”

  She scowled at him and kept up her kitty-calling.

  That cat was no dummy. There was the urgent sound of claws ripping through bark. The big orange tabby leapt to the ground and circled Leona, rubbing against her legs.

  The trio of women on Mildred’s patio applauded. Mildred shouted her thanks.

  “Pick up the beast,” Leona commanded.

  Chad hurried over and scooped the cat into his arms.

  “Now take him back.” Leona shoved the tuna can into his hand and headed back to her big, empty house.

  The cat contorted itself to stay in Chad’s arms and keep eating from the can. Unfortunately, it dug its claws into Chad’s arm and hand, hooking them just beneath his skin. Add another set of injuries to his mounting Harmony Valley scars.

  “You’re not so bad,” Chad said softly enough that only Leona would hear.

  “Don’t be so sure,” she replied, just as softly, but with a hard note.

  When the cat was safely inside and the nail gun compressor had been plugged in, Chad stood back and held up his hands so Flynn and Slade could see his blood blisters and bruised finger. “I’ll hand you two the boards.” No way was he getting near that nail gun.

  Flynn and Slade exchanged glances in that way of theirs that spoke of secret wavelengths no one else could read.

  “Nope,” Flynn said. “You’ll operate the nail gun.”

  “Given my track record, that’s not wise.” He clenched his hands to stop them from trembling.

  “You’ve got to learn sometime.” Slade had the oddest way of looking at a man. His gaze tallied, totaled and summarized. His gaze said Chad could handle power tools.

  Chad had no reason to add power tool wielding to his list of accomplishments. Not unless he stayed in Harmony Valley. Not unless Tracy ever truly forgave him. Not unless he redefined who he was and re-evaluated the risks of loving, and gave Tracy his heart. There were a lot of conditions to him staying. “Okay, I’ll work the nail gun, but you guys are driving me to Emergency when I nail myself to a board.”