In the end she’d decided on meatloaf. One couldn’t go wrong with a good meatloaf.
The door opened and Lizzie breezed in. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up by a flatbed with a pile of tents blocking Walnut Street.”
Millie glanced at the clock. One fifteen. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“I’ll be so glad when this weekend is over.” Lizzie bustled around the reception counter, opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, and dropped her purse in. “I know the festival is important for the town, but it certainly is a disruption.”
Before Millie even got out of the chair, she began rearranging things on the desk. The paperclips went to the left of the calendar, and the pen holder in their place.
Millie fought a wave of irritation and retrieved her purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ta ta,” Lizzie replied in her singsong voice while sliding the dog treat jar an inch to the right.
Setting her teeth together, Millie left the clinic.
Chapter Five
I promise Snowball will be fine, Mrs. Kidwell.” Doc placed a reassuring arm around the anxious woman’s shoulders. “We’re going to take good care of her.”
They stood in the clinic’s boarding area, a large space off the main hallway beyond the three small exam rooms. A rack of crates in varying sizes were secured to shelves lining two walls, and the fluffy white cat had just been deposited in a large one, the fourth and last feline to arrive for Doc’s kitty slumber party.
The middle-aged woman clutched the straps of her purse, her eyes fixed on her pet. “But she’s never been away from home overnight. What if she won’t eat?”
Judging by Snowball’s girth, he didn’t think that would be a problem. “I have a lot of experience with finicky felines,” he assured the fretful woman. “And later on today we’ll see if she wants to make a friend or two.”
He gestured toward the mellow calico in the next crate, who had stretched out sphinxlike on a cushion and regarded them with an unblinking green stare.
“Now, you just go along and leave her to me.” He turned the woman around and guided her gently from the room. Holding the swinging door open for her to enter the reception area, he asked a conversational question. “Are you planning to attend the festival this weekend?”
“What?” Mrs. Kidwell pulled her gaze from the door to his face. “Oh. Yes. My nephew’s bluegrass band is playing tomorrow evening.”
“I’ll try to stop by for that. I love good bluegrass music.”
The first smile he’d seen appeared on her face. “Then maybe you’d better miss their performance. They’re not very good.”
Laughing, he escorted her past the reception desk and, after more assurances that Snowball would be well cared for, closed the front door behind her. Turning to Millie, he rubbed his hands together.
“Now, let’s go catch a tomcat.”
Together they returned to the boarding room. The back door opened onto a fenced-in exercise area. They had no dogs at the moment, so he’d installed his four felines in the larger dog cages. He rattled the doorknob to satisfy himself that the lock was secure and the deadbolt in place.
“You’re kidding, right?” Millie watched with her arms folded. “You think he’s going to open a closed door?”
“This is a very determined cat we’re talking about.” But he grinned to show her he knew he was being overly precautious.
The room had two windows, one on either side of the door, and he cracked one open about eight inches. He’d removed the screen that morning. No sense inviting the tomcat to vandalize his property. From a box in the corner he extracted the contraption he’d made last night. It jangled loudly as he lifted it.
“Give me a hand, would you?”
Millie came forward. “What in the world is that thing?”
“An alarm, of course.”
He’d gotten the idea from the bells hanging on the door at Cardwell Drugstore. To a thirty-six-inch wooden rod he had tied long strings, one every half-inch. At the end of each string hung a bell. They were all different sizes, and he’d had to visit every craft store in the nearby city of Lexington to find enough, but they would do the trick.
She jingled a bell. “Won’t the noise scare him off?”
“Not if he’s as determined as he’s been in the past. You’ll find some clips in there.” He nodded toward the box while he held his contraption. “Fasten them to the curtain rod, would you?”
The plastic clips he’d dug out of the Christmas stuff stored in the attic. He’d used them to hang lights on the rain gutters last year. Millie stood on a chair and did as instructed, and when the clips were in place, he secured his homemade alarm.
She hopped off the chair and stood back to admire her handiwork.
Millie ran a hand across the strings, and the resulting jingle filled the room with satisfying volume. He should be able to hear that from any of the exam rooms. And they’d prop open the swinging door that separated the clinic from the reception area so Millie and Lizzie could hear it from the front if he missed it.
“You know, this might actually work.” She awarded him a congratulatory smile.
“Of course it will work.” He gestured toward the four cats. “What red-blooded Romeo could resist paying a visit to our lovely guests?”
“Speaking of Romeos.” Worry lines appeared on Millie’s forehead as she glanced at her watch. “Alison’s boyfriend is on his way. He’ll be here around six.”
Though Millie had not said much about this visit, Doc knew she was anxious about it. “Do you need to leave? Our schedule is light today. I’m sure I can handle the morning myself if you have things to do.”
“Thanks, but no. Everything’s ready. Alison insisted that we eat festival food this evening. She thinks that’ll be easier on him than having us stare across the dining room table at him while he chews. We’re saving the family dinner for tomorrow night, after he’s gotten used to us.” Her shoulders heaved with a silent laugh. “She’s probably right. Albert can be a bit intimidating.”
The sound of the front door opening reached them. Millie glanced at her watch. “There’s your ten o’clock appointment.”
She hurried from the room. Doc paused in the doorway, looking back at his invention. Now, how long before his polydactyl friend paid a visit?
Exactly ninety-seven minutes.
Doc was in exam room one listening to the heartbeat of Larry Greely’s birddog when the sound of bells jingled through the open doorway. He snatched the stethoscope from his ears.
Larry glanced down the hallway. “What was that?”
“Be right back,” Doc whispered as he sprinted from the room.
Millie appeared in the hallway, looking toward the boarding room through round eyes. Doc held a finger to his lips as he dashed past. Human voices nearby might spook a feral cat. He raced through the reception area, drawing stares from a woman and child waiting with their yellow lab puppy, and through the front door.
Outside, he tore around the side of the building. He lost precious seconds unlatching the gate—why hadn’t he thought to leave it open?—and then forced himself to approach the open window with a quick but cautious step. The sound of his panting roared in his ears. He gulped in a breath and held it, creeping as silently as possible. When he arrived he flattened himself against the building and slowly, slowly, peeked inside.
There! Pacing in front of the crates was a cat. He realized at once why Eulie Pilkington mistook him for a bobcat. This fellow was large and sleek. Plus, his coloring wasn’t typical for a tabby. An abundance of black stripes nearly concealed a yellow and orange undercoat. Beautiful markings, really. A fine-looking cat.
Doc grasped the center window rail and, with a firm gesture, pulled it down. Bells jingled as the window slammed shut, and the startled cat jumped. He whirled, and Doc found himself staring through the glass into a pair of amber eyes.
I’ve got you, you sneaky fellow.
The cat wasted no ti
me. With a giant leap, he scurried through the door.
Congratulating himself, Doc trotted around the building and cracked the front door open enough to allow his body to squeeze through.
Inside, he found pandemonium.
An orange and black streak raced through the swinging clinic door, which had been propped open. It careened into Millie’s legs and sent her toppling backward into her chair. The door swung wide and Betty the Birddog plowed through, the air ringing with her deep-throated bark and Larry a half-step behind. The cat leapt onto Millie’s lap, startling a shout out of her, and springboarded onto the desk. Betty continued her pursuit, thankfully bypassing the stunned receptionist, and with a giant leap landed on the desk. Papers scattered like confetti at New Year’s. A pair of panicked amber eyes flew past Doc as the cat vaulted from the countertop into the waiting room. Larry tackled Betty and managed to hook her by the collar, but not before the dog treat jar crashed to the floor and shattered.
In the waiting area, the woman shrieked and the little girl started to cry. Her mother pulled the child onto her lap while the puppy bounded over to investigate the terrified, hissing creature hovering in the corner beneath a chair.
Doc plunged forward to rescue the puppy, who was about to become the unwitting victim of a pair of razor-sharp claws. He’d just gotten hold of the dog when the front door opened.
Whirling, he extended a hand toward it and shouted, “No!”
Too late.
The cat, sensing an escape route, dashed from beneath the chair. Before Doc could take more than a step, the creature darted to freedom between the legs of a startled Lizzie.
Thrusting the puppy into the child’s arms, Doc raced past his wife and emerged into the sunshine in time to see a blur of orange and black disappear between the buildings across the street.
Chapter Six
Millie recounted the story to Albert over a glass of iced tea at the kitchen table while they waited for Nicholas to arrive.
“I thought Doc was going to hyperventilate.” She wiped condensation from her glass with a napkin, chuckling at the memory. “And Lizzie felt terrible, of course, but it wasn’t her fault. How could she have known?”
“What’s he going to do now?”
“Keep trying, though he’s afraid the cat won’t return to the clinic no matter how many females we have.”
“Probably not.” Albert glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. “It’s six-forty. If he doesn’t get here soon, can we have a snack?”
The question sounded peevish, which tended to happen when Albert’s supper was delayed. Fluctuations in his blood sugar affected him more intensely now than in his younger days. For that reason, Millie tried to keep to a strict schedule.
“How about some cheese and crackers?”
“Perfect.”
She started to rise, but halted when Alison’s shout from the living room reached them.
“He’s here! Nick is here!”
Millie and Albert locked gazes across the table. His features underwent a change. The scowl deepened and the corners of his lips tugged downward as though the weight of his jowls was too much to bear.
“Be nice,” she cautioned. “Remember to keep an open mind.”
“The same to you.”
“I’m always nice. Whereas you…” She finished the phrase with a knowing glance.
“I will be my usual charming self,” he assured her as he rose.
She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Heaven help us!”
Giving her the private grin that never failed to charm her, Albert offered his arm. “Shall we go meet the drug lord, Mrs. Richardson?”
“Stop calling him that.” She delivered a reprimand with a tap on his shoulder before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. After drawing a fortifying breath, she nodded. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
The front door stood open, and through it Millie caught a glimpse of Alison racing across the front lawn. They followed, exiting the house arm in arm.
“At least he drives an American car,” Albert muttered. “Probably part of his cover.”
A nervous giggle threatened, and she clamped her teeth against it. The car was blue, a newer model Ford, though Millie wasn’t sure what model because she rarely noticed such things. Instead she watched her daughter race around the bumper, whip open the door, and throw herself into the arms of the man who emerged before he had a chance to fully stand. Their kiss, about which he seemed as enthusiastic as she, definitely went beyond the greeting of friends. It continued the entire time Millie and Albert took to leave the porch and walk at a slow, sedate pace, down the walkway. They came to a stop at the curb and waited for the two to separate.
Albert finally cleared his throat. “Ahem.”
Nicholas broke the embrace, though he kept his arm around Alison’s waist as he came toward them.
Her attention fully on her beau, Alison voiced the introduction without a glance in their direction. “Mom, Daddy, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Nicholas Ricardo Provenzano IV. Nick, these are my parents.”
The young man took a half step toward them, right hand extended, and then stopped to whip a baseball cap off his head. Dark hair cropped military-short had grown out just enough to show a hint of a wave.
He took Albert’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” A deep Southern drawl stretched his words out to twice their normal length. Dark eyes framed by thick, black lashes switched from Albert to Millie. “And you too, ma’am. Been lookin’ forward to it. Alison’s told me all about you.”
Millie stared at him. How could this young man be from Colombia? Fresh-faced and eager, he looked like the all-American boy-next-door. In a distant part of her numb brain she recognized that Albert had released the boy’s hand, and it was now extended toward her. Dazed, she took it.
“My mama asked me to give you a message the minute we met.” An appealing grin unearthed an adorable pair of dimples in his darkly tanned cheeks. “She’s upset on account of not getting’ to come up here and meet y’all, but she had some stuff going on this weekend and couldn’t get away. But she told me to tell you she’s wantin’ to help with the wedding, and she hopes you won’t mind if she brings a few gallons of sauce for the supper after.”
“Sauce?”
“Marinara.” The dimples put in a reappearance. “A secret recipe from all the way back to my daddy’s great, great grandma, or some such. My grandma passed on the recipe to Mama on their wedding day, and she’s already planning to give it to Alison on ours.”
The smile he turned toward Alison held so much love that Millie’s heart flip-flopped in her chest.
Beside her, Albert seemed to gather height as he towered above them all. “Wait a minute.” The stern note in his voice echoed down the street. He speared Nicholas with an accusatory glare. “You’re not South American.”
“Uh, no, sir. I’m not.” The young man cast a confused glance toward Alison. “Am I s’posed to be?”
“You’re supposed to be Colombian.” He directed the accusation toward their daughter.
Alison stared at Albert, confused. “What are you talking about? I told you—” She halted. A hand rose to cover her mouth, and a few seconds later she doubled over with laughter.
Millie realized the misunderstanding then. Nicholas’s dark hair and eyes, swarthy complexion, full lips, and classically shaped nose. And the family marinara sauce recipe. All part of his family heritage, as Alison had told them.
“You’re Italian,” she accused.
“Yes ma’am.” Obviously confused, he looked from her to Alison, who was laughing uncontrollably. “Or, my grandparents were. I’m American.”
Alison recovered a modicum of control. “Daddy, Nicholas isn’t from Colombia, South America. He’s from Columbia, South Carolina.”
Her giggle was infectious, and Millie caught it. The two of them surrendered to laughter, while Albert continued to look stern and Nicholas, unc
omfortable.
“Do you mean to say you attended the University of South Carolina?” Albert’s eyebrows lowered until they appeared to rest on top of his eyelashes. “That you are, in fact, a Gamecock?”
The question sent Millie into a fresh fit of laughter. No wonder Alison had been hesitant to tell her father about this boy. He attended the archrival of Albert’s alma mater.
The young man straightened proudly, as though answering an interrogation. “Yes sir, I am. Or was. I graduated in May with my bachelor’s degree in business administration.”
Albert’s scowl intensified. “I’m a Purdue man myself.”
“Yes, I know.” One edge of Nicholas’s generous lips twitched upward. “But since you’re Alison’s father, I’m prepared to overlook that.”
Through her own mirth, Millie saw a change in Albert’s expression. A spark of grudging approval flared in his eyes. He stepped forward and placed a fatherly arm around Nicholas’s shoulders.
“Come inside, young man. We don’t have much time, and I have a lot of questions.”
Millie watched the pair of them head for the house. Alison came up beside her, and Millie slipped her arm around her daughter’s waist.
“I like him a lot.” What a relief to say that with complete honesty.
Alison hugged her waist. “I knew you would.”
Together, they followed their men into the house.
Chapter Seven
The Goose Creek Fall Festival officially kicked off that evening, when the festival coordinator gave her introductory speech to thank all the volunteers who had helped make this year’s event “the best in the entire history of the Festival.” Doc didn’t dare miss that speech, or he’d catch all kinds of grief from Mother.
He stood before the four crates that held his hopes of finally capturing the source of at least three confirmed litters of six-toed kittens, and four more probable ones. And who knew how many barn cats from the farms spread out across the county would deliver polydactyl babies in the coming months?
Dr. Horatio vs. the Six-Toed Cat Page 5