“Our first Christmas together,” Blair observed as she pulled out a box of blue ornaments. “I wonder what my sweetie got for me.” She gave him a playful look. “Something from Tiffany’s maybe? I love Tiffany’s. Or maybe a vacation? It’s been forever since I’ve been to Cabo.”
Zach turned to hang an ornament and hide his dismay. He thought of the chocolates he’d ordered on line. He’d been pretty pleased with himself at the time. Now the words “not going to cut it” echoed through his mind.
It was no secret that Blair had never lacked for the finer things in life. Her parents and her ex-husband had made sure she was well provided for—and then some. The last time he’d gone shopping with her she’d dropped more money on a single handbag than he’d spent on his entire wardrobe … for the past three years.
Still, she knew he was a firefighter so she couldn’t really be expecting anything that lavish. Could she? She’d been teasing. Hadn’t she?
Ho, boy.
They finished with the tree and she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. Had she put on more perfume? Maybe that scented candle was getting to him. Maybe he was allergic to cinnamon. His throat started to close and he coughed.
She looked up at him in concern. “Are you getting sick?”
“No, just a tickle in the throat. I must be allergic to decorating,” he cracked. “Or cinnamon.” Or … something.
“It’s probably cat dander. Good thing he’ll be relocated by Christmas,” said Blair. She blew out the candle, then caught Zach by the hand and led him to the couch. “There. Now let’s take a break.”
And what a break it was. Blair decided to spend the night.
So, once more, all was calm, all was bright … until he drifted off to sleep and found himself in bed, tied down with more chains than Marley’s ghost. A figure stood at his bedside: Merilee from Pet Palace, and she was holding Tom and looking at Zach with disappointment. “That woman … I thought you had better taste.”
“She’s not so bad,” Zach protested.
“You can say that, after the way she acted today? She showed her true colors and there you are, pretending to be colorblind. Shame on you,” Dream Merilee scolded. “Choosing that woman over this poor helpless kitty. I thought you were more noble.”
“I am noble,” he protested. “I took the little guy in.”
“And then threw him away just so you could get laid.”
“I haven’t thrown him away,” Zach protested. “He’s still here somewhere. Anyway, I never said I’d keep the cat.”
“You don’t keep anything or anyone, do you?” taunted this new and unimproved Merilee.
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who gave back the ring on Christmas Eve,” he protested. “And she dumped me for my best friend!”
“Nice try,” sneered Merilee. “Blame your problems on your ex-girlfriend. But it won’t work. She knew you were getting cold feet. Cold feet to match that cold heart.”
Zach was about to protest that he didn’t have a cold heart when, out of nowhere, a dump truck backed up to his bed and started unloading a ton of iron chains on top of him. The weight was crushing him, suffocating him. “Help! Somebody help me!”
He woke up with a strangled cry to find the room awash in predawn shadows. Blair had thrown an arm across his chest. He gently removed it and she gave a snort and rolled over onto her side. He stayed on his back, staring at the ceiling and willing his heartbeat to settle.
It was just a dumb dream, he said to himself and forced his eyes shut.
He never got back to sleep though. Instead, he lay there and dredged up memories of the good times he’d had with Blair over the last few months. She’d been the perfect woman, a few years older than him, happily single, and just out to enjoy life. They’d had some fun times: played a lot of tennis before the weather turned, spent some rainy autumn afternoons enjoying matinees at the Falls Cinema. But right along with those pleasant memories came less pleasant ones: her temper tantrum in Pet Palace, how she’d pouted when he took her to Angelina’s on her birthday and then later admitted that she’d been hoping he’d surprise her with a weekend jaunt to San Diego instead. When she’d told him she was craving Mexican from her favorite restaurant in San Diego she’d been giving him a hint—which he hadn’t quite gotten.
Now he thought of her hints while they had been putting up the tree. What, exactly, did she want from Tiffany’s? He started to sweat. While he’d spent the last three months thinking they were inner tubing down the river of life, having a good old time, she’d had them in a speedboat headed for the falls. Did he want to go over the falls with a woman he couldn’t afford? Did he want to go over the falls at all? Nooooo.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter but it didn’t help. Next to him, Blair murmured something in her sleep and gave a little giggle. What was so funny?
* * *
Ambrose knew he had to do something to redeem himself for his behavior when Zach and the cat-killer took him to see the Santa monster. But how?
Of course! He’d bring Zach a present. The early morning was frigid and there was frost on the ground, but Ambrose was a hunter. He could endure cold if it meant finding some juicy prey. And he had to find something this morning. It would be a bad idea to delay offering a sacrifice to Zach to prove his penitence.
He spent a good, long time huddled beneath a bush by the back door before his patience was finally rewarded. A fat robin landed on a bush and began foraging for berries. Ambrose crept forward inch by careful inch, his eyes never leaving the bird. Get the prey, get the prey. You must succeed.
Succeed he did. He took down the bird with a giant leap and in no time the thing was dead and mostly gone. After all, Ambrose had worked up an appetite with all that hunting. But he saved the very best delicacy for Zach, his family: the feet.
He picked them up and carried them in his mouth as carefully as if he were a mother with her kitten, forcing himself back through the dreaded cat door—using that thing still made his fur crawl—and into the eating room. He padded through the room and then trotted down the hall and up the stairs to the sleeping room where Zach and the cougar had disappeared the night before.
The door was slightly ajar and Ambrose slipped through, quiet as a shadow. Ah, he was in luck. Zach was in the room with the big drinking bowl, cleaning himself with water. (Ugh.) Ambrose could leave his present as a surprise on Zach’s pillow. He only hoped Zach wouldn’t share it with the undeserving cougar.
He jumped onto the bed and carefully deposited his gift. Then he hopped off and positioned himself by the door where he could see Zach’s delighted reaction to his big surprise. This would be great.
A moment later the cougar rolled over, stretched, and then looked for Zach. Then she looked at his pillow. Puzzled, she picked up one of the bird feet Ambrose had laid out so carefully.
No, that is not for you!
Suddenly the cougar let out a shriek and dropped the foot like it was dog feces. She dove from the bed, tangling herself in the blankets in the process and losing her balance. That sent her flying like a giant plucked bird into the nearby dresser. She bounced off of it and stumbled toward the middle of the room, stubbing a foot in the process and howling in pain.
Now Zach was in the room, staring at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Bird feet!” she wailed, pointing at the bed.
Zach looked confused. “What?”
“Bird feet, bird feet, BIRD FEET!” She started running toward the door, probably with murder in her heart.
Ambrose didn’t wait to see what happened next. He dashed out of the room and down the stairs.
And, oh no! Here came the cougar thumping along right behind him, still howling, feathers flying from the scanty bit of black cloth she was wearing. It was like being chased by that huge black dog all over again. Driven by terror, Ambrose did what any good cat in need of safety would do. He scaled the nearest tree.
What had he been thinking,
climbing a Christmas tree! Did he have a death wish? Christmas trees were death traps. It had been a sizzling jolt from something on a Christmas tree that cost him his first life. Oh, not good. Not good at all. The thing tottered and swayed, its decorations jingling. He couldn’t stay here.
He took what humans called a leap of faith, launching himself from the dangerous tree before it could fall. The tree went one way and Ambrose sailed another. He landed right on the cougar, who let out a screech and sent him flying again even as the tree toppled with a crunch of ornaments.
Ambrose managed to land on his feet and bolted for the safety of the couch. Even as he squeezed under it the cougar was screaming all kinds of words he knew weren’t nice. And Zach was next to her now, trying to make himself heard over the racket she was making.
“Either that cat goes or I go,” she roared, pointing to where Ambrose cowered under the couch.
“Babe, just calm down, okay? Did he get you with his claws?”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What do you mean calm down! Your damn cat just tried to attack me. If I hadn’t reacted so fast I’d be covered in scratches!”
“I think you’re just shaken up. Let’s just calm down and—”
“Never mind calming down,” she roared. “I want an answer.”
Ambrose held his breath.
“Blair, I can’t just turn the little guy out.”
She pointed a finger at him. “You are choosing the cat over me! Zachary Stone, you are insane. And I must have been insane to get involved with you. You’re nothing but a selfish, immature—”
“Now, wait a minute,” Zach protested. “I get that you’re upset but there’s no need to start throwing around insults.”
“I am not staying here another second with you and that … beast!” She opened a door to the closet where Zach kept coats and yanked hers out. “You two deserve each other,” she snarled as she wrapped it around herself.
“If that’s the way you want it, fine,” Zach snapped. “I’ll bring your tree back this afternoon.”
Ambrose blinked as she told Zach to put the tree in a part of his anatomy where Ambrose knew it surely wouldn’t fit.
“Keep the tree and the damned cat. I hope you’ll be very happy together,” she snapped. She grabbed some keys from the hall table and then exited, slamming the door after herself.
Zach glared at the door as if Blair Baby were still standing there. Then he muttered a very bad word and marched into the living room and grabbed the tree. He hauled it to the front door, sending little blue balls bouncing every which way.
Ambrose was strongly tempted to chase one as it bobbled past, but considering Zach’s mood, decided it was wiser to remain under the couch.
Zach opened the door and hurled the tree out into the cold, then slammed the door shut. “I never wanted a friggin’ tree anyway,” he growled.
Well, well. It looked like Ambrose had succeeded in saving Zach. This was an even better gift than the bird feet.
He watched as Zach cleaned up after the cougar. The first thing Zach did was gather the stray ornaments into a plastic bag. Then the bag followed the tree out the front door. Next he tossed Ambrose’s present in the can in the eating room where humans threw food that was still perfectly good. If Ambrose had the muscles for it he would have frowned. What ingratitude! Finally, Blair Baby’s clothes went into another plastic bag. Zach put them into the shiny black car along with the ruined tree and the ornaments. Then he drove off. Where he took everything Ambrose had no idea, but the cougar didn’t return and that was all Ambrose cared about.
Except Zach seemed restless. When he returned home he banged things with his hammer and growled bad words. At night he flipped from program to program on the TV, always changing channels just when Ambrose was getting interested. Did he miss the cougar?
“Nah,” he said as he talked on his cell phone to his friend Ray. “It’s just as well. Things were getting, I don’t know, weird. It was only a matter of time before she left for good anyway. I should probably keep away from women.”
His friend laughed so hard Ambrose could hear it all the way up where he sat on the back of the couch, watching Zach pace while he talked.
“No, I mean it,” said Zach. “I’m fine on my own.”
Fine? He wasn’t acting like it. Ambrose knew what was wrong with Zach. He knew the symptoms well. He’d experienced them himself when he was an alley cat. He understood the crazy, driving itch that made a guy restless, made him want to sit on a fence and yowl, made him fight anything and anyone to get to a female cat. Zach was getting the itch. People, like cats, needed to connect with another living being. In fact, people needed that a lot more than cats. Most of them didn’t seem designed to function well alone. Zach could say all he wanted to the contrary, but he was no exception. He needed a female in his life.
Not the cougar, obviously. But Merilee would be perfect, for Zach (and Ambrose). If he could bring Merilee and Zach together it would more than pay them back for their kindness to him in past lives. It would also guarantee all three of them a wonderful life now. Yes, that was the answer, which meant Ambrose needed to get Zach back to the Pet Palace.
But how? He hunkered down to think.
SIX
How to get two humans together? It wasn’t as if Ambrose could sit Zach down for a talk, tell him, “Look, pal, you need this female. She’d be good to you.” And he couldn’t exactly hop in a car and drive over to Pet Palace, wherever that was, and fetch Merilee back home to Zach.
Ambrose spent the time Zach was away at work giving this problem some serious thought (in between naps, of course). He finally concluded some naughty kitty behavior might send Zach running to her for advice. Then it would just be a simple matter of letting nature take its course. After careful assessment of the situation he decided that clawing a piece of furniture was his best bet. Anyway, he needed to sharpen his claws and Zach hadn’t provided him with any other tool. Well, other than the upstairs carpet, but it would take too long for Zach to discover that spot.
Ambrose chose an old chair Zach kept on one side of the fireplace. He knew better than to attack the leather couch.
It was morning, and Zach was on the couch, putting on what he called his running shoes when Ambrose made his move. He stood on his hind legs and went at it with both claws. Aaah, that felt good.
“Hey!”
The sharpness in Zach’s voice about startled the fur off Ambrose and he sprang away from the chair and ran to the far end of the room.
“Yeah, you’d better cut it out,” growled Zach. “That was Gram’s and it’s lucky for you I hadn’t gotten around to getting it re-covered.” He bent over to assess the damage and frowned.
Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I barely got started.
He straightened and pointed a finger to where Ambrose crouched, peeking around the corner of the couch. “Touch my leather couch and you’re dead.”
Well, duh.
* * *
Zach had many things to consider as he did his morning run, like what to work on next now that the kitchen was done, when would be the right time to put the house on the market, and … what he’d been smoking when he decided to exchange a hot woman for a mangy orange cat.
Saying good-bye to Blair had been a good thing, he reminded himself. The woman was hot, all right, but hot things burned. Anyway, he couldn’t really afford her. He was better off on his own.
But the cat? Zach shook his head as he jogged across Spruce on his way back to Lavender Lane where his Victorian sat, a plain cousin in the midst of houses dressed to the nines for the holidays. Why had he taken in the cat? More to the point, why was he keeping him? He hadn’t intended to, that was for sure. But somehow, in spite of this morning’s assault on his grandmother’s chair, Zach liked having the little guy around. He was good company.
Good company. There was the bottom line. Zach liked the company. Something about living in that Victorian made him aware of the downs
ide of his choice to live alone. Oh, he had people in his life: his fellow firefighters, his pals, the Steps. But they swirled around him, much like twigs and leaves moving down a river past a stone stuck deep in the riverbed. Old Tom was different. He had settled in and exercised squatter’s rights, and that was okay by Zach. Blair had known instinctively what he was just realizing. He had no intention of getting rid of the cat.
Which meant they had to find some way for Tom to get his kicks other than by scratching the furniture. It looked as though Zach was going to have to make another trip to Pet Palace. He smiled and picked up his pace.
Later that morning he drove through downtown Angel Falls to the strip mall at the edge of town that housed Pet Palace. Downtown was already buzzing with residents ducking into the Bon Croissant for their morning latte and a slice of eggnog cake or stopping by the bank to make a deposit. Lampposts were adorned with fat red ribbons and cedar swags, proof that Christmas was right around the corner. A Mini Cooper buried under a giant fir tree drove past him. Funny. No matter how dysfunctional their families, people always marched into this time of year determined to enjoy the holidays.
Compared to the downtown area the strip mall looked like a dinner guest who never got the message that everyone was dressing up. The warehouse stores sat side by side, big plain boxes, adorned only by their big name signs. No need for fancy dress out here. People came for the low prices.
Zach parked in the gigantic parking lot and wandered into the store. He was greeted by Christmas music: dogs barking to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” He looked over toward the checkout stands. No sign of Merilee there. Maybe she wasn’t at work today.
Not that he’d come to see Merilee, he told himself. He’d come looking for a scratching post. But she’d be able to help him. Where was she? He wandered around the store, all the while convincing himself he couldn’t possibly get a scratching post without her expert advice.
The Nine Lives of Christmas Page 6