Cat Got Your Crown

by Julie Chase

  In the weeks since the NPP had ended and Mom’s NPP Welcoming Committee had disbanded, she’d fallen back into her routine of throwing elaborate dinner parties and meddling in my personal life. All in all, it was a welcomed return.

  I slowed on the narrow walkway, long ago misshapen and upended by the tenacious roots of mammoth historic oaks. I took in the familiar sights and sounds I’d done everything in my power to dodge a year ago. These days, I didn’t mind. I found instead that I liked seeing everyone, hearing what they were up to and feeling like a part of something bigger.

  I caught sight of Dad on the porch and went to kiss his cheek. We hadn’t spent enough time together lately, and I missed him. “Tell me the truth,” I said. “How long have you been out here hiding?”

  He checked his watch. “’Bout twenty minutes. When your mother asks, I tell her I’m keeping watch for you.”

  I laughed. “I love you. You know that?”

  He lifted my still partially bandaged hands to his lips and kissed them. “How was physical therapy this morning?”

  I exaggerated the genuine shudder to make it look contrived, then forced a big smile.

  He smiled back, but I knew he saw right through me.

  “Not bad,” I said. “My hands will be good as new in time.” That was true. My hands were healing nicely, despite some fairly extensive damage to my joints and ligaments, but the deeper problem wasn’t with my hands. I’d set a standing appointment with my therapist the minute she returned from her trip, and I attended faithfully. Every week.

  Dad hugged me. “I hate the things that have happened to you,” he whispered, stroking my hair where it draped down my back. “I promised you the moment I met you in that delivery room that I would protect you from everything every day of my life, and some days I can’t get over how miserably I’ve failed.”

  “Dad,” I said, pulling back for a look in his glistening blue eyes. “You can’t protect me from everything. I wouldn’t want you to.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “If you choose to have children one day, you’ll see.” He laughed softly. “The joy comes with a whole lot of pain.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve scared you badly and so often,” I said. And I meant it in my marrow.

  He pressed my hands gently to his heart. “I’d do it over a thousand times for you.”

  I freed my hands from his so I could hug him tightly in my arms, careful to keep the pressure off my hands and fingers.

  My small motor skills would take some time to perfect again, but therapy was helping, and I was a fighter. I would heal, and I was certain that, with time, my tight and professional hand-stitching would be nearly invisible once more.

  Dad kissed my head. “All right. I’ll let your mother know I saw you pull up. If you haven’t guessed, this is your surprise party do-over. Act shocked when everyone yells.”

  I hadn’t guessed, and I was a little excited at the prospect. I gave a weird salute, then counted slowly to twenty before following him inside.

  “Surprise!” the crowd of family and friends yelled out.

  I did a what-is-all-this face, then bowed and curtsied and acted a mess until I was sure everyone bought my terrible acting. When that was done, I nabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and went to investigate the dessert situation.

  Mom moseyed to my side, a faux but believable smile in place. “You knew,” she said.

  “Yeah.” I popped a strawberry into my mouth. “Thank you for this. Everything looks so beautiful, and there’s a ton more room here than there was at my store. It’s perfect.” Plus, I was still unbelievably glad to be alive to enjoy it.

  “I had them move the furniture when they set up the tables,” Mom said. “There was an overwhelming response to this invitation.” A prideful smile bloomed on her lips. “You’ve done well for yourself, Lacy. Without a medical degree or a fancy title or rich husband. Without so much as a penny from your father and me. I don’t know why you choose the hard way, but I marvel at your perseverance.”

  I smiled. It was quite possibly the highest praise my mother had ever given anyone in her life, and she’d given it freely, to me. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the tug in my chest.

  She nodded. “I guess I should have expected you’d figure out I was planning something. You’ve become quite the amateur sleuth, and you did inherit half my genes.”

  I rubbed the backs of my hands gently and gave the room a long look. Mom had spared no expense as usual, from the crisp black linens and high-top table rentals to the elaborate spread of food and drinks. She’d even hired a harpist and ordered my favorite cake from Presto’s Bakery. Again. “I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

  “Not even close,” she said. “Keep that in mind if you ever need to throw a really important party. I’ll knock your socks off.” She lifted her gaze to the sexy six-foot homicide detective approaching from across the room.

  “Looks like you’re warming up to him in my life romantically,” I said. “I appreciate that.”

  She shrugged. “He’d take a bullet for you, and he’s easy on the eyes. Who can be mad at that?”

  I laughed.

  “His chosen profession is awful, but net worth is admirable.”

  I rolled my eyes. That’s the Mom I know.

  She sighed. “And how could I fault anyone who looks at you like that?”

  Jack pried his gaze off me and squeezed her hand. “Violet.”

  “Jack.”

  He was breathtaking in black dress pants and white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, buttons undone at the neck. He fixed his attention on me, a wicked gleam in his clear blue eyes. “You look stunning.”

  I blushed the way I always did when he said that, like it was the first time I’d ever been told.

  Jack selected a cookie from the dessert spread and grinned. “Willow’s?” he asked.

  Mom nodded. “Imogene thinks they’re magical. They’re certainly delicious. If you have any important engagements in the future, I’ll be sure to make them available.”

  I groaned at the way she emphasized the word engagements.

  Jack bit into the cookie with devout seriousness. “I’m planning something pretty big, actually. I’ll let you know.”

  “What?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

  Mom clasped her hands in front of her. “Lovely.”

  “What?” I repeated.

  Jack handed me a cookie and winked.

  “I have no idea what that means,” I said, as baffled by his pointed looks and intent expressions as ever.

  Mom ducked away to chastise a server without a full tray, and I turned on Jack. “What are you up to, teasing my mother with the opportunity to throw a big party?”

  “It makes her happy,” he said, “and she’s remarkably good at it, plus I wasn’t teasing.”

  Willow’s blonde hair caught my eye where she twirled on the veranda outside. She caught me looking and waved.

  “Willow came,” I said, feeling my smile widen.

  “Henri too,” Jack added. “Shall we?” He took my free hand gingerly and led me across the room toward the open patio doors.

  Someone clanked a spoon against a glass as we neared the foyer, and the crowd quieted. “Hello, I’m Scarlet Hawthorne,” Scarlet said, moving onto the steps, where she could be seen more easily.

  Jack and I stopped to listen.

  Henri, Willow, and Chase moved inside from the veranda and came to join us.

  “As most of you know,” Scarlet said, “I’ve been Lacy’s best friend since diapers, and I love her like family because that’s exactly what she is. Tonight, we’re here to celebrate the one-year-ish anniversary of her return to our town, the opening of her shop, and her reintroduction into our lives. I don’t know what I’d ever do without her, and I don’t want to find out. So, Lacy, I want you to know I adore you. You are the sister I never had. Godmother to my children. Best friend of my brother-in-law.”

  Chase lifted a
flute of champagne overhead and smiled.

  “Also, I am proud to announce that I have found the perfect part-time shopkeeper to help you and Imogene at your store. A woman who will be worthy of your employment and make you smile every day that she works, but never before nine or after two because she has to drive carpool.”

  My jaw dropped. “You?” I looked from Scarlet to Carter. He smiled and nodded.

  Scarlet pressed a hand to her chest. “Me!”

  Imogene looked at the ceiling and signed the cross.

  I ran to hug Scarlet, and the crowd clapped.

  Chase hugged me next. “What she said.” He grinned. “But not the part about working at your shop.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “How’s Jack treating you?” he asked, eyeballing the man at my side.

  “Like a princess,” I said. “A delightfully headstrong princess.”

  Jack nodded in slow, emphatic agreement while catching his own drink from a passing waiter.

  Chase laughed. “It takes a special man.”

  I kissed his cheek. “You’re a special man, and you really are my best friend, right after Scarlet, of course.”

  “Of course.” Chase smiled back. “Well, you know where to find me when you come to your senses and realize my proposal still stands.” He did a long stage wink.

  “I do,” I said.

  “Excuse us,” Scarlet butted in. She gave me another hug.

  Chase walked away.

  “You really get to work with me?” I asked. “How is that possible? Did you find a nanny?”

  She nodded. “I took your advice and called my old nanny. As it turned out, she was looking for a part-time job, so she’ll watch the kids after school and on weekends for up to four hours a day, which means I can get away from the house and help you. Nanny will cook, clean, whatever needs done while I’m away, and when I come home all will be well.”

  “Love it.” I smiled.

  Scarlet leaned against her husband. It was hard to believe that high school sweethearts still made it into successful marriages, but they had, and I admired them for it.

  Jack pulled me to his side and made a puzzled face. “Chase Hawthorne proposed to you?”

  “Not officially,” I said. “There was no ring. It was more of a standing offer,” I said.

  Jack made a crazy face, eyes on something in the distance, presumably Chase.

  “So,” Carter said, “how are you doing, Lacy?” His eyes slid to my bandaged hands.

  I gave a nervous smile. “I’m doing okay.”

  “Good,” he said, moving his attention to Jack. “Whatever happened to the old lady?”

  I felt my insides twist painfully at the mention of her. The fine hairs along my arms stood at attention, and heat rushed through the back of my head in a blazing burst that spread across my cheeks and down my throat.

  Jack held me a little tighter. It was a question I knew the answer to, and one I’d heard asked and answered a dozen times over the past month, but reliving those awful moments on the bridge never got any easier. “It’s okay,” I said, rubbing my injured hands carefully. “Go on.”

  “Mrs. Smart was charged with physical assault, stalking, and menacing,” Jack began. “We were able to tie her to Lacy’s threats, from the bike messenger delivery to the vandalism of her shop door to the destruction of her cake, and we got her on inducing panic for calling in the bomb threat and pulling the fire alarm. We were also able to connect her to a series of threatening letters demanding Viktor’s resignation in the months before his death, and a tourist’s home video from the French Quarter puts her outside St. Louis Cathedral near the time of the mini stampede.” He inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders. “Plus she confessed to Viktor’s murder and the attempted murder of Lacy.”

  I kept my chin up, but I wanted to run. Senselessly, of course, but the adrenaline was always there at the sound of her name, pooling just below the surface. I imagined it would be that way for a long time.

  “Lacy?” Eva’s smile was small and timid as she moved into our little circle. Tension rolled off her in silent waves. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I think you’re right on time,” I said, wrapping her rigid body in a gentle hug. “Everything okay?”

  She pursed her lips. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  Scarlet, Carter, and I did a soothing round of aw and I’m so sorry.

  Jack said, “Good.”

  I whacked his arm.

  He shrugged. “I ran a background check on him when I thought he might’ve had something to do with Viktor’s death. That guy’s arrest record is extensive and varied. As far as I could tell, he only drives that old construction truck so he can look like a productive member of society. He’s really a professional criminal, and not a very good one. He’s been charged with a little bit of everything, including multiple domestic violence charges.”

  My jaw swung open. “Oh my gosh! Eva. Are you okay?”

  She bobbed her head. “I will be. I’m just glad I found out I was being lied to now rather than later.”

  Chase reappeared with two flutes of champagne and handed one to Eva. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  She took the drink. “Thanks for encouraging me.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Chase.

  “What?” he said. “You inspired me to set down roots and embrace this life. I’m glad I did, so I thought I should pay it forward. Maybe help a fellow straggler to find herself too.”

  Eva leaned against him. “Chase told me about his return to the district and a little about Lacy’s readjustment. Then we talked about figuring out who I am, and who I want to be. I’m not exactly the outgoing socialite my family always wanted, but I’d love to open a bookshop and sell tea.”

  “Do it!” we responded in a group cheer.

  She smiled. “Maybe I will.”

  Jack tipped his glass in her direction. “Cheers.”

  We all put our glasses together.

  “To breaking molds,” Scarlet said.

  “And doing what we want,” Chase added.

  “To friends,” I said.

  * * *

  I followed Jack to his place that night because he’d promised me a surprise.

  He led me to his kitchen with an apprehensive smile. The massive marble island was covered in fresh produce and bags and boxes of every ingredient under the sun.

  “You bought me groceries,” I said with a laugh.

  He lifted my hand in his. “I thought we could brainstorm ideas for new recipes. I’m off work tomorrow and Imogene is opening for you, so I bought everything I could think of, and we have all night to play around with your ideas.”

  I sagged against him in an easy hug. “Thank you. Is it super dorky to say this is my idea of a perfect night?”

  He pulled back and looked at me with a warm, familiar smile. “I have something else too.”

  He selected a worn leather journal from the line of cookbooks on his counter and presented it to me like a gift. “I want you to have this.”

  I reached for it greedily. “I love old cookbooks,” I said, flipping the cover immediately.

  “This one is very special to me.”

  The pages were handwritten like a journal and interspersed with recipes, some reworked a dozen times, others completely scratched out. I ran my fingers down the fading ink inside the cover.

  Wins and losses in the kitchen, my quest for perfection.

  by Jack M. Smacker. 1952.

  I raised my startled gaze to his. “Your grandpa wrote this.”

  “You would’ve liked him,” Jack said, a touch of grief in his beautiful eyes.

  “I know.”

  Jack stepped closer, something still puckering his brow. “Grandpa journaled everything. Recipes as they originated, the results, the changes. New results. All of it. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who loved the kitchen as much as you. I thought you’d find his trials and corrections comforting. A few of these recipes
are really good, too. I hoped those would inspire you.”

  I hugged the journal to my chest. “You inspire me,” I said.

  The night buzzed by in a cloud of sifted flour and unfiltered laughter. I sang, danced, and relaxed in ways I hadn’t in months as Jack and I compiled and tested a half dozen recipes over a shared bottle of wine. It was my second favorite night so far. The pet pageant was over. My assailant was in jail. Scarlet was going to help me at my shop, and I was falling head over heels for the man at my side. It was an ending I never could have seen coming a year ago, but New Orleans was like that. In my city, in this life, anything was possible.

  Also available by Julie Chase

  Kitty Couture Mysteries

  Cat Got Your Secrets

  Cat Got Your Cash

  Cat Got Your Diamonds

  Author Biography

  Julie Chase is a mystery-loving pet enthusiast who hopes to make readers smile. She lives in rural Ohio with her husband and three spunky children. Julie is a member of the International Thriller Writers (ITW) and Sisters in Crime (SinC).

  There shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary with this project.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Julie Anne Lindsey

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.

  ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-68331-956-6

  ISBN (ePub): 978-1-68331-957-3

  ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-68331-958-0