by Sofie Kelly
“Between the two of them they recognized the people in eight of the pictures,” I said. “The only way we’re going to figure out who’s in all of the other ones is to somehow get people into the library to look at them.”
She took a sip of her tea. It smelled so good I was almost tempted to make myself a cup. Almost.
“Hey, guess who I met?” she said. “Simon’s father. He came into the shop and bought a tea set. He had such a warm energy around him.”
“He drove Mia to work. He’s a nice man.” I glanced across the room. Roma had just come in with Eddie. I raised a hand in hello and they started over to us.
Maggie followed my gaze. “I love a happy ending,” she said softly.
I nodded. “Me too.”
It was wonderful to see Roma so happy. She was getting married. After insisting she was too old for hockey player Eddie Sweeney and ending their relationship, she’d realized that how she and Eddie felt about each other was more important than the number of years between them. So she’d proposed to him in the middle of my kitchen and he’d happily said yes.
“Hey, Eddie, are you going to stay for class?” Maggie asked.
Roma tipped her head to one side and smiled up at him, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you?” she asked.
He made a face at her. Then turned to Maggie. “Thank you for the invitation, but no. The hockey team has practice.” Now that Eddie was retired and living in Mayville Heights he was helping coach the girls’ hockey team. The girls’ team because of a nudge from his daughter, Sydney.
Eddie’s expression grew serious. “The strangest thing happened to us on the way down here,” he said.
Roma’s smile disappeared and she nodded.
“We were followed down the highway by a drone.”
“Followed?” I said.
“For a close to a mile,” Roma said.
“It was definitely deliberate,” Eddie added, running a hand over the stubble on his chin. “The road turned twice and the drone stayed with us.”
Maggie set her mug on the table. “The same thing happened to Brady on the weekend.”
“When?” Eddie asked.
“Where?” I said.
Maggie let out a breath. “Saturday evening, maybe seven o’clock. But he wasn’t on the highway. He was out past the marina.”
“And something similar happened?” Roma asked, her forehead creased into a frown.
“Very,” Maggie said. “Brady said the drone followed him for about a mile and then veered away toward the bluff.”
“That’s dangerous,” I said. “Someone could have an accident just from being distracted.”
Eddie nodded. “Or the drone could hit a car.” He shook his head. “I thought I’d talk to Marcus when he gets back and see if there’s anything he can do.”
I automatically started to smile. “He’ll be back around supper time tomorrow.”
“I can wait until Thursday.” Eddie grinned and I felt my face get red.
I turned to Maggie. “Isn’t it time for class to start?” I asked.
Maggie smiled. “Yes, it is.” She stepped out into the room, clapped her hands and called, “Circle.”
Eddie planted a quick kiss on the top of Roma’s head.
“I’ll tell Marcus you want to talk to him,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said and he was gone.
Roma and I took our places in the circle. Maggie had that gleam in her eye that told me she was going to work us hard. And she did. Ruby and I paired up to work on our Push Hands and Maggie spent some time watching and refining our technique. By the time we finished class with the complete form, the back of my neck was damp with sweat.
Roma and Eddie were giving Rebecca a ride home. “Eddie has some papers that Everett wants to look at,” Roma said, watching him hold Rebecca’s jacket for her. I noticed that Rebecca was carrying the brown paper shopping bag and Taylor was empty-handed, which told me that Rebecca had decided on both vintage evening bags. “Everett is interested in Eddie’s idea for a hockey school.”
I held up two crossed fingers. “I’ll hold a good thought.”
Roma hugged me and said good night. I sat down to change my shoes. One more day and Marcus would be home. Seeing Roma with Eddie made me realize just how much I’d missed him.
It had taken quite a while for the relationship between Marcus and me to move beyond friendship, even though at times it had felt like the entire town was playing matchmaker. It didn’t help that we’d first met when I was briefly a person of interest in one of his cases. I’d stumbled on the body of conductor Gregor Easton at the Stratton Theatre. Marcus had suggested that maybe I’d been at the theater to meet the conductor—who was older than my father—for a romantic liaison. I’d taken offense at what he’d been insinuating, and he’d taken offense at what he saw as me nosing around in his case. I’d had no idea he’d turn into my happy ending.
• • •
It was much quieter than usual at the library the next day. As promised, Harry came in first thing and assembled the shelves and storage unit. Midafternoon I decided to start putting up the Thanksgiving decorations. I’d hung a conga line of dancing paper turkeys across the front of the circulation desk, but they were crooked, looking as though the big birds were slipping downhill. I took several steps backward to get a better perspective and bumped into a warm, solid male chest. I turned around to find Marcus smiling at me, all six feet–plus of brown-haired, blue-eyed handsome.
He looked around. “Is anyone watching?” he asked, then before I could answer he swept me into his arms. “I don’t care if they are,” he said, pulling me into a long kiss.
For a moment my legs lost the ability to hold me up, so I held on to him, which wasn’t exactly a hardship. This public display wasn’t like Marcus. Not that I minded.
“I missed you,” he said. He was wearing a gray sweater over a light blue T-shirt and smelled like coffee and the spicy aftershave he always wore.
“I missed you, too,” I said, finally breaking out of his embrace. “What are you doing here now?”
“We got out early.” He smiled. “Get your things.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m not done until supper time.”
Susan walked through the door then, grinning at me and making a shooing motion with her hands. She was wearing an origami flower fastened to what looked to be a swizzle stick in her hair.
“Go,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at me. “I’ll take care of the rest of your shift. Just because I’m an old married woman doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about romance.”
“You did this,” I said to Marcus.
“Guilty,” he admitted.
Susan tipped her head in the direction of the stairs. “You’re burning daylight. Go!”
I hurried up to my office, grabbed my jacket and purse and left everything else. Downstairs, Marcus and Susan had their heads together. She was gesturing emphatically, the flower in her topknot bouncing as she talked.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Have fun, children,” Susan said with a knowing smirk.
Marcus caught my hand and we started for the main doors. I turned back and mouthed “Thank you” to Susan. She gave a little wave.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Your house,” he said as we started down the front steps. “I’ll follow you. And don’t worry about Micah. I’ve already been home to check on her.”
I glanced in his SUV as I started for my truck. There was a cooler bag that I recognized as belonging to Susan on the backseat.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A surprise,” Marcus said. He caught my arm and pulled me back to him.
It had to be something from Eric’s Place, the restaurant that Susan’s husband, Eric, owned. I have great friends, I thought, and then
Marcus was kissing me again and I forgot how to think at all.
• • •
Eric had sent lasagna, salad, chocolate pudding cake for dessert and even some steamed salmon for Owen and Hercules. It was delicious. By nine thirty Marcus was yawning.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear it’s not the company.”
“I know,” I said. We’d been curled up on the sofa but now I sat up and stretched. “You’ve had a long day.”
“But a good one,” he said, pulling me back down against his chest. I tipped my head back and gave him an upside-down kiss. Then I sat up again and stood up, pulling him to his feet as well.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked.
He nodded, wrapping his arms around me. We walked out to the kitchen that way. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I promise I won’t fall asleep driving home.”
“I went to check on Micah this morning,” I said. “But she must have been happy to see you and was probably a bit annoyed when you left again.”
“I missed the little furball, too,” Marcus said with a grin. “I’ve gotten used to fish breath waking me up.” He pulled on his jacket and once again pulled me close for one last kiss. Or two.
I wanted to say, “Stay,” but Marcus was surprisingly old-fashioned about some things.
“Breakfast at Eric’s?” he asked.
“Mmm, that sounds good,” I said.
He pulled away from me and was gone.
• • •
I woke up early the next morning—before Owen had a chance to breathe his fishy kitty breath in my face or poke me with a paw. Even though I was meeting Marcus for breakfast I made coffee. In my book there was no such thing as too much coffee.
Owen wandered down while I was getting the coffeemaker ready. There was no sign of Hercules. I gave Owen his breakfast and after he’d finished eating and washing his face he made a beeline for the back door.
“I’m leaving in an hour,” I said. “Make sure you’re back.”
The only response was an offhanded murp.
I was washing the dessert dishes from the night before, singing along to Ultimate Manilow since Owen—who wasn’t a fan—wasn’t in the house, when I heard him meowing at the back door. He was on the top step and my heart began to pound the moment I saw him. There was a long scratch across his nose and another on his right front paw, but the most serious injury was a tear in his left ear that was matted with blood. He seemed to be more angry than anything. He looked back over his shoulder and his tail whipped across the step.
I bent down and checked him over carefully. I didn’t see any other injuries but I was still worried. Owen had been in altercations before, but just minor scuffles, one with another cat and one with the Justasons’ dog when he was just a kitten. That little skirmish was the reason the dog had given him a wide berth ever since.
I picked Owen up and carried him into the kitchen. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called Roma at home.
“It looks like he was in a fight with some other animal but I don’t think it was the Justasons’ dog. I didn’t hear him bark and, anyway, he tends to bolt if he sees Owen,” I told her.
“Yeah, he is kind of a big chicken,” Roma agreed. “It sounds as though Owen’s injuries aren’t too serious and his shots are all up to date, although he might need stitches in that ear based on what you described.”
My heart sank at the word “stitches.” Owen was an uncooperative patient at the best of times. To say he was going to overreact to having to get stitches was an understatement.
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking down at the cat in my lap. He reminded me of a boxer who had just taken the match by a knockout. Although he was injured, there was something cocky in his posture.
“Not until I see him,” Roma said. “And yes, I know what you’re thinking, but if Owen needs stitches I can make it work. I’ll see you at the clinic in a few minutes.”
I ended the call and felt a wave of relief roll over me. Owen was watching me, his golden eyes narrowed.
“I know you don’t exactly like Roma,” I began.
He gave a sour-sounding meow of confirmation.
“But she needs to fix your ear.”
Owen immediately shook his head and winced a little. I had no idea how he understood what I said but I had no doubt that he did, and given the whole invisibility thing it wasn’t really that unbelievable.
“She needs to fix your ear and so you need to go to the clinic and be nice.”
He didn’t make a sound but the glare he gave me made his opinion very clear.
I got to my feet, nudging the chair back under the table with one foot. I wasn’t sure I could trust Owen not to pull a vanishing act over this.
I bent my head close to his. “Okay, furball, here’s the deal,” I said. “You have to go to the clinic but you don’t have to be nice and when we get home you can have an entire can of sardines. All to yourself.”
Owen immediately swiveled his head to stare at the cupboard where I kept the cats’ food. I walked over to the cupboard, grabbed the oblong-shaped can and set it on the table. “Deal?” I asked, feeling a little silly over negotiating with a cat.
“Mrr,” he said.
I grabbed my purse and managed to tuck my phone inside one-handed. I didn’t even try to put on a jacket, trusting that my heavy sweater would be warm enough. I didn’t want to set Owen down and take a chance that he’d bolt.
• • •
Roma and I both pulled into the clinic’s parking lot at the same time. I’d settled Owen next to me on the passenger side of the truck, knowing if I tried to get him in the cat carrier that I would have a mutiny on my hands. I got out and lifted him from the seat.
Roma walked over and leaned in to look at Owen. She didn’t make any attempt to touch him. Neither cat dealt well with being touched by anyone other than me. It was just another one of their idiosyncrasies that over time I’d gotten used to.
“Not too bad,” she said. She smiled at the cat. “I have a feeling the other guy looks worse.”
Owen straightened up in my arms as though this was a point of pride for him.
Roma laughed. “I swear he knows what I just said.”
“I think he knows a lot more that anyone would believe,” I said.
I followed Roma inside and she got us settled in one of the examining rooms. “You can set him on the table,” she said to me.
I put Owen down on the stainless-steel surface. “Think sardines,” I whispered. He immediately sat down and looked up at me, all the picture of innocence.
Roma ended up giving Owen a tranquilizer, which made working on him a little easier. She checked him over carefully, cleaned his scratches and managed—with me holding him—to put four stitches in his ear.
“That should do it,” she said finally.
Owen sat on the exam table wearing a green fabric collar, looking slightly loopy.
Roma pulled off her gloves. “The fabric collar is adjustable and it’s more comfortable. I think Owen will put up with it a bit better than with a plastic cone.” She smiled down at him and he almost seemed to smile back at her, although his golden eyes didn’t quite focus.
I had already called Abigail, who once she heard what had happened, had offered to open the library for me. I’d also called Marcus to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make our breakfast date. Now I hugged Roma before carefully picking Owen up. “Thank you for coming in early,” I said.
“For you, anytime,” she said. “You should bring him back tomorrow so I can take a look at those stitches.” She frowned. “Did you leave the carrier in your truck?”
“I just put him on the seat,” I said. “I didn’t even think about the carrier.” I felt a little embarrassed. Roma had pointed out a couple of times that Owen and Hercules would be a lot safer in the truck if they travele
d in the carrier. And I knew she was right. It was also impossible to do a lot of the time, since Owen would just disappear and Hercules would walk right through the side of the bag.
I had just gotten Owen settled on the passenger side of the truck when Marcus called.
“How’s Owen?” he asked.
“He has stitches, but other than that, he’s fine. We’re just about to head home.”
“I’ll see you there,” Marcus said. I could feel his smile through the phone.
Owen and I had just gotten out of the truck a few minutes later, when Marcus pulled into the driveway behind me. He was carrying a take-out bag from Eric’s Place.
“Breakfast,” he said, holding it up.
I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Owen meowed loudly. Translation: “Pay attention to me.”
Marcus looked down at him. “Why no plastic collar?” he asked.
“Roma said this one is more comfortable and it’s adjustable. She’s hoping Owen might actually keep it on.”
“Well, not everyone could make that collar work, but you can,” he said to the cat as we started around the house. “Do you have any idea what the other guy looks like?” he asked me.
I handed him my keys so he could open the back door. “I don’t even know who or what the other guy is,” I said. “I’m just hoping it’s not the Justasons’ dog.”
Marcus unlocked the door and I set Owen on the floor just inside the kitchen. He stretched, made his way over to the table and meowed loudly. The tranquilizer Roma had given him seemed to be wearing off with no aftereffects.
“I kind of promised him a plate of sardines if he didn’t bite Roma,” I said to Marcus.
“You get the sardines, I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee,” he said.
I was just putting the plate in front of Owen when Hercules wandered in from the living room. He made a beeline for his brother. “Mrr?” he said softly.
The two cats looked at each other for a long moment and it almost seemed as though they were communicating without making a sound. Finally, Hercules looked over at me, tipping his black-and-white head quizzically to one side.