by Lisa Lickel
I heard the girls giggle softly.
“How did you get involved in the Gleason’s robbery?” Donald asked to break up the lovebirds.
“Oh, that.” Rolf shrugged. “I didn’t even know there was a robbery.” He raised his eyes at Gonzalez. “I’m off duty. I was just there at the store to…uh, check on something.”
She twitched her mouth and put her hands on her hips while giving us a jaundiced look. “You all heard the call,” she said, “about the additional vehicle involved.” She nodded at Adam and me. “Fact is, those two stopped the progress of one of the suspects on motorcycle. We weren’t alerted at that time to a second getaway vehicle.”
“Then you came and your car and plate matched the one called in,” Pfannie explained.
“Oh?” Rolf didn’t seem too concerned as he gazed dreamily at Pfannie.
“Partially matched,” Davidson said. “You have the wrong plates. The other vehicle in question’s plates were not the special America Remembers.”
“And the numbers were different,” Greer said. “Good reminder to everyone to keep their plates clean. Sorry.”
“Glad to give you guys some excitement.” Rolf laughed. “And, by the way, I have the right plates, supporting law enforcement, yeah? The perps have the wrong plates.”
“Why’d you take off from the party in the first place?” I asked, determined to get to what I suspected was the heart of the matter. “What could have been so important you needed to leave the party before it got started?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rolf bobbed his head and went brighter pink. “So, that…” He bobbed again like a turkey toward the innocent, white Gleason’s Fine Gems sack sat on a nearby table. “The store called. I just needed to…uh, go get something.”
“Do it. Do it. Do it.” Almanzo started a low chant. The girls picked up on it and dimmed the lights. Someone turned on slow music…not holiday themed. I grinned. The cops started clapping with the beat.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Rolf asked over the din.
Pfannie shook her head, lips tight and turned up, dimples deep.
“Na, she likes everyone in on things,” Almanzo said.
Adam snorted softly. I had to straighten out his belief that the incoming CAT president and I were an item. I studied Adam’s ruffled hair and handsome profile. His scarred side faced me. He had issues to deal with too, and while I didn’t know what caused the scars or if they had anything to do with the death of his wife, I could afford a healthy measure of slack for his error over me and Almanzo. Once I got to the bottom of his mistaken assumption, of course.
Afterward…maybe…I…we… I could endure the terrors of Chicago driving for the guy who saved my life, couldn’t I? Or t-t-train…or t-t-taxi. But that happy phone call he’d taken earlier, before everything went south, swirled in my memory.
I couldn’t be sure if Adam wanted to go out with me. I couldn’t forget the fact that he probably had oodles of women vying for him. Caffeine, book, and chocolate-deprived women going to his stores every day.
A loud wolf whistle brought me back to the moment.
6
Rolf led Pfannie over to the white-netted lattice in the darkened nearly empty room, remnants of a deflated Christmas party framing the scene. An empty buffet table with stained plaid tablecloth that smelled vaguely of old shrimp and made my stomach grumble held up one wall. A short, lopsided Christmas tree with cat-shaped paper cutout ornaments stood on the other side.
“The mistletoe! Under the mistletoe!” Almanzo crowed over muted strains of “Time of My Life” from the sound system.
Aw…romance lived! Rolf plucked a shiny, twinkling diamond ring from the white box he’d withdrawn from the jewelry store bag. He tossed box and bag aside. “I had this sized and was supposed to pick it up after work.” He got on one knee and held Pfannie’s hand. “But they were late and didn’t call until we got here.”
So that was the mystery call Rolf received. I hid my face in Memnet’s fur again, holding in the “Squee” that would impress the teens but no one else. Pfannie wasn’t the only woman with an immaturity complex.
My proposal experience had been offhanded. Stanley had bumped my arm last Valentine’s Day and said, “So you wanna?” and I said, “Yeah!” At the time my hands had been plunged in dishwater, cleaning up after a pot roast I’d cooked for us. He’d been late. A ring came later. I’d put it on myself after getting his text from the road explaining he’d forgotten and where I could find it at his parent’s house.
I really had to get over myself.
I raised my face to survey the others watching the proposal.
“Will you, Pfannie Jean Morgenstern—”
“Yes! Oh yes!”
Kiss.
By the expression on Donald’s face that reminded me of tart lemonade on a hot day as he stared at Almanzo instead of the happy scene unfolding under the mistletoe, I could tell he had other things on his mind. He’d been a good president of our local chapter of CAT. It wasn’t that he couldn’t step aside and hand over the reins of power once his term was done. He had enough to keep himself busy, he’d told me. Almanzo’s actions tonight showed he was less than president-worthy. Was that the kind of leader we wanted to represent the group? Someone who would participate in a scheme to potentially harm a pet?
I also was aware that things were not all cozy in the Conklin home. Donald would never outright complain, but the fact that Mrs. Conklin had nothing to do with Donald’s beloved pet or outside interests said a lot. I should know.
The kiss went on under the mistletoe.
Dr. Hooper finally flashed the lights, much to his daughters’ dismay. He also turned off the sound system. “Sorry to break this up, folks. But I am officially declaring the party over.”
He and Donald went to confer by the hall.
The law enforcement people were making their way out, too. I stopped by Officer Gonzalez. “Thanks for everything tonight,” I told her.
She looked at me, puzzled. “It wasn’t a date.”
I laughed. “Ha, ha, ha. I meant, thanks for helping us out.” I tilted my nose toward Pfannie. “For letting Rolf be a hero.”
“Gotta support the brotherhood,” she said, shifting her feet and looking to the side. “I have my eye on that nephew of hers, though. He’s going to have to file some paperwork to get his truck back.”
“I guess. He’s in trouble, then?”
“Maybe.” A little smile wobbled at her lips as she faced me again.
“So, about your Tuptim…”
“Yeah?” One of her black brows rose.
“You should think about joining CAT.” I fished in my pocket for a card. “Here. There are local groups and online forums to exchange information and support and encourage responsible pet ownership.”
Her other brow climbed as she pointed her chin toward Pfannie. “That’s how well it works?”
The raw side of my face flamed. “Um…well, she hasn’t been a member all that long,” I mumbled. “But we can help.”
“And he”—she indicated Almanzo—“is in charge next?”
She got me there.
An arm slapped against my back and cupped my sore shoulder, making me recoil and stagger. I didn’t wait to see who it was before exclaiming, “Careful!”
“Somebody was talking about me,” Almanzo said. “My ears are ringing.”
I wriggled, even though that hurt more. “That’s not the only thing that’s going to be ringing if you don’t quit sneaking up on me.”
Gonzalez gave him a stern look before joining her colleagues.
We waved and called good night.
Almanzo stared after her. “Don’t worry, Ivy. You don’t have to quit CAT, too.” He eyed Adam. “Maybe you can talk him into staying. I’m dropping the presidency without any argument. I guess I don’t deserve it.”
What could I say that wouldn’t make him feel any lower? At least he expressed remorse. There was always hope for people who had sincere remo
rse, Mom said. “I hope you and Ms. Bojangles won’t leave the group. Maybe you can…try again.” Hmm, I couldn’t quite convince myself of that, let alone him. “In the future?” I tried again.
He just hugged himself.
“If you clean up your act,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness. “Stop trying to impress everyone around you and doing things you know are wrong.”
Almanzo flushed and nodded.
“And quit helping yourself to personal records and bothering us.”
He pushed his lips out into a pout.
“You can find dates without resorting to subterfuge,” I told him. “Or questionable, illegal activities.”
We walked toward the coat rack. “You’re fortunate you’re getting off so lightly.”
“Huh. Do you know what the impound fees are?”
I smiled and scratched Memnet.
He nodded toward Adam. “You and him. It could work. I saw the way he looked at you.”
I followed his glance. Adam paused his leave-taking to join Dr. Hooper and Donald.
“Why, Almanzo? Why’d you do it, keep acting like we were dating when I already told you I didn’t want to go out with you?”
Abby’s sister Laurie brought Ms. Bojangles over to us. Laurie had kept her in the pet-sitting area. Ms. Bojangles jumped down.
“Thanks,” Almanzo told her. She grinned and waved.
“You were the last one in the database, Ivy.”
“What do you mean?” I had lost track of the conversation as Memnet jumped down to crinkle his eyes at Ms. Bojangles.
“You were the last single girl in Illinois CAT I hadn’t dated.”
OK then. I guess I knew that, as he’d made a big deal of his dating prowess. As Mom told me, if I didn’t want to know, I shouldn’t ask.
He must have noticed the look on my face. “Aw, now, don’t get all hissy on me. You know, it wasn’t just that. Our cats get along. See! Ms. Bojangles really likes Memnet. He’s nice to her. Treats her like a lady.”
We watched our pets’ antics. She and Memnet sniffed and nosed each other’s whiskers. One of her mousey gray ears was ragged from a long ago fight in which she’d also lost an eye. The end of her tail had been nipped after infection set in. The rest of her was as mutt as any cat could be, part tan blotches, part beige stripes. Almanzo picked her up and snuggled her tight.
“You about ready?” Pfannie called to him. “We’ll drop you off at home.”
“Yeah. Coming.”
So, he did have at least one redeeming quality. He rescued cats no one else could love. I gave a little half-wave from my hip as he and Ms. Bojangles strutted out into the night after Rolf and Pfannie.
The men were still talking. I went to help Laurie fold up the tablecloths. Abby handed off the guinea pig to Ginger so she could fold chairs and stack them.
My shoulder and neck were getting noticeably stiffer.
“Let me do this, Ivy,” Laurie said. She checked on her father. “They were talking about you. They’re worried about you driving yourself home.” She squinted at me. “You look tired.”
Sweet kid, Laurie. Did I sincerely look like I needed to be taken care of? I scowled. Which hurt my face. I touched my temple and cheek. “OK, thanks. I am tired. You know, I think I’ll just call it a night. Head home. Thanks for the pet-sitting you and your sisters did.”
“Dad paid us.” She grinned.
Where had Memnet gone off to? “Mem! Let’s go!” I knew that wouldn’t do any good for getting my independent cat to come to me, but it effectively broke up the men’s gabfest.
My ears weren’t ringing, so I hoped that meant they hadn’t been discussing me. Ah, there he was. Memnet, I mean. He sat under the mistletoe, captivated by the scene unfolding above his furry little head.
Isis had given in to temptation. A piece of netting unwound from the lattice and flapped in the breeze of the ceiling fan. She crept up toward it, one cautious paw at a time. I watched, fascinated, as she tested each pawhold, her gooseberry eyes alternating between path and prey.
Step by curious step.
Her whiskers twitched.
The twinkling lights caused her spots to shimmer.
I wondered if Memnet would heroically catch her if she slipped.
Two large hands reached into my frame of view and plucked her from the netting. She curled her paws and retracted her claws as pieces of net stuck to her.
Adam succeeded in freeing his pet and faced me, smoothing down Isis’s ruffled pride. She sneezed.
“Mistletoe makes cats sick if they eat it,” I said.
“Only the berries,” he replied.
We were talking. It was a start. “It’s a parasite,” I said, testing the potential forgiveness and relationship waters. “It feeds on others.”
He smiled, playing along. “Technically it’s a hemiparasite. It can live without a host and makes its own food from sunlight.”
“It can live independently, you mean.”
Adam nodded. “But it prefers symbiosis.”
“Even with the wrong kind of host?” I wasn’t very good at keeping my feelings inside. That was something he was going to have to learn if he wanted to…be my friend.
Isis jumped down. He shook his head and smiled, then approached me. Close enough for me to catch the hint of spice and the skin-warmed leather of his vest and the jacket that had briefly protected me. My eyes strayed along his chin, the roughness of scars that ended at his jaw, his straight nose and silvery eyes with strands of green and blue threaded in the irises.
He touched my cheek and cupped it over the bruise and road tracks, then continued to prove how well read he was. “Are you aware of some of the myths surrounding mistletoe?”
I shook my head and he removed the warmth of his hand.
“My favorite is from Scandinavia where it’s known as a plant of peace.”
I watched his beautiful lips form the words. They came closer.
“Enemies declare truce,” he whispered. “Warring spouses could kiss and make up.”
A yowl and hiss startled us apart.
This time it was Tut doing the complaining.
I puzzled until I noticed Donald huffing about, trying to corner him. Clearly Tut was not ready to leave. Ginger signaled that she would stalk him from one side if Donald would cover the other.
“You were saying?” I reclaimed Adam’s attention.
He cleared his throat. “Donald said that Hortense Phillips, the organization secretary, was willing to be nominated for president in a new election, and he would be advisor.”
I nodded. “She’ll be a good president. She knows everyone.” I studied his eyelashes. “So, does that mean you and Isis won’t withdraw?”
“We’ll stay. You’re not upset about that?”
“Why would I be?”
“I thought you and Mr. Benteen were together.” He ducked his head toward Donald and Ginger, still in pursuit of Tut. “Donald told me he didn’t think so, that he knew you pretty well.”
So, they had been talking about me! “Gossip?” I said and narrowed my eyes.
He flushed, making the crepe skin over the scars of his jaw stand out. “It’s not very nice of me. I apologize.”
“I’m not used to Donald talking about me,” I said stiffly.
“He didn’t. Not really. I’m afraid I was the guilty party. You see…” Adam dropped his gaze to the floor.
I sighed. “That’s something I have to straighten out, anyway, with you.”
“Oh?”
“Why would you ever think Almanzo and I, that we were, um, you know.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Were together?” Adam obliged. “Were going out? Were dating? Were boyfriend and—”
“Stop!” I choked on a laugh. “So?”
“First of all, I have to beg your forgiveness one more time. I’ve indulged in the worst behavior tonight. I assure you, I’m not typically such an idiot.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again an
d grimaced. “Truth is, I haven’t felt this way for many, many years. Not since… well, anyway.”
I waited. I felt his pain, but it was his, and he had to be the one to deal with it.
“I overheard you on the phone earlier this evening. Talking about moving to be closer to your boyfriend.”
“And you naturally assumed Almanzo Benteen was my boyfriend? However did you come up with that?”
“The way he acted toward you.” Adam’s eyes flashed. “He put his arm around you. He seemed protective of you. The way you said good bye just now, even.”
“And you thought I enjoyed every time he sneaked up on me and about scared me to death, about all those sly insinuations?” I couldn’t stop my voice from rising. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m moving away from…from the area if you think I’m the kind of person who likes participating in fake catnapping and…and…using radar detectors.”
Adam’s whole being drooped. I couldn’t begin to describe my misery.
“But I don’t think that,” he mumbled.
At least, that’s what I thought I heard. “I couldn’t help noticing your phone call,” I said brightly, changing the subject while still defending myself. Cell phones had certainly made hash of social life. “You seemed pretty happy to get a call. A lady friend perhaps? I don’t know anything about you. Maybe we should have coffee before I move. I have this business, you know. McTeague’s Technical Services.” My voice ran on without my permission. “Maybe I could help you out. If you need it. For your shops, you know. Although I like your website. Good design, low maintenance. I don’t have to be in Chicago to work with you.”
He seemed to find that funny. A smile grew into a full-blown belly laugh. “I hope not.”
Sometimes, well a lot of the time, I got a feeling like the joke was on me, but I was the last to know. “Your lady friend is your web provider?”
He laughed even harder. “My sister,” he said when he got control. “The call from my sister Marie. She’ll be happy to find out you approve of our website, but she’s not crazy about keeping it up. She called to tell me she hired a manager for one of our locations.”
