Meow Mistletoe

by Lisa Lickel

  “Oh.” Now I was the one who didn’t know what to do with my hands. I clasped them together in front of me and shifted, working my sore neck muscle. “So, no lady friend?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Just Isis.”

  Another thought occurred to me. Had Donald told him about my failed engagement? Maybe Adam thought I was broken and pitied me. “How much of my phone call with my mother did you overhear?”

  He put his hand over his heart. “My ears perked up at the word boyfriend. That’s all. Cross my heart.”

  “Oh.” But men who saved my life could potentially smash my heart. Not that Stanley hadn’t done damage, but Stanley had never jumped in front of a speeding motorcycle for me, either. A romance with a man like Adam Thompson could restore my faith in humanity. If it didn’t work out, though, could I recover? How far from Apple Grove could I move if I had to endure another broken relationship? Florida? Arizona? La Paz?

  “So, no boyfriend?”

  I tossed my fears to heaven, where they belonged. I think my dad smiled.

  “No. Memnet’s the only man in my life right now. Oh, and Donald. But he’s a friend, not a…you know.”

  “Talking about me?” Donald appeared at my elbow, Tut in arms.

  I jumped. And winced. “What is it with people sneaking up on me tonight! You scared me!”

  He gave me that inappropriately innocent routine. “Who me? Can I help it if you’ve been overly preoccupied? So, David says we can let ourselves out. He’s going to check on his in-house patients, then set the alarm when he and the girls leave.”

  He grinned large enough to frighten me. “You two get things worked out?”

  Adam and I turned to him. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Now that you’re going to be neighbors and all. Can you imagine? Apple Grove with three Egyptian Maus? We’re going to start a whole new trend. I can see it now. Apple Grove, home of the most Egyptian Mau Cats in America.”

  I chuckled. “You’re getting another cat? I thought Margaret was allergic.”

  Donald shook his head. “You didn’t tell her?”

  Instead, Adam called for Isis.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you two all night!” Donald lifted Tut like a trophy. “Ivy, Adam has agreed to open a branch of Mea Cuppa in Apple Grove. It’s just what we need! A really good coffee shop and bookstore. Everyone is so excited.”

  “We’ve been a little busy,” I said, making one of those fuzzy-brained excuses. I followed Adam, Donald and Tut trailing behind, back toward the lattice where Isis and Memnet staked their places on either side. They sat, staring at each other like some showdown was about to happen. “That makes sense, then,” I said to Adam. “You were talking about your sister hiring a manager. But if you visit your stores, hopefully we’ll get to see you once in a while when you come to town. You know I’m moving there soon. Donald helped me find the cutest little house.”

  Donald and Adam shared another nonverbal conversation.

  “I’m coming too,” Adam said. “It’s a package deal, you see.”

  “Apple Grove won’t know what hit her!” Donald made Tut clap his front paws. Tut mewed his high-pitched call.

  Adam stuck his hand in his pocket and leaned toward me. “So, yes, I’d love some help with my business website. Maybe we can get together and talk about it.”

  I breathed in a renewed sense of Christmas joy. I may not yet have gotten all the way to liking Christmas yet, but I sure loved the way this one was turning out. “Maybe.”

  “Look at that!” Donald pointed. “There’s always hope, faith, and love, kids. Never forget that.”

  At the sight of Isis and Memnet nose to nose under the mistletoe, I believed.

  “A temporary truce?” Adam smiled in his toe-curling way at me.

  “For now,” I said, praying permanence would follow.

  We picked up our cats and coaxed them into their carriers for the trip home.

  “Are you sure I can’t drop you off?” Adam said while helping me into my coat. “Come back and pick up your car later?”

  “I heard I was the topic of conversation,” I said. “I’m fine. I’ll pop some aspirin, leave the window open and play Christmas music.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Adam said solemnly. “At least for a while. Make sure you’re safe. Leave your phone on. If you change your mind—”

  “I’ll call. Promise.”

  We both grinned at each other like we were at the junior high school prom. Donald held the door for us as we manhandled our cat carriers into the parking lot.

  Donald let the door close behind us. “This is going to be a great new year. Good things are going to happen,” he said as we headed for our cars. “See you soon! Ivy, send me a message when you get in so I don’t worry all night. You too, Adam.” He waved and went to his car, a few rows away.

  “He is the sweetest, most wonderful man,” I said. “I wish…well, it’s none of my business. I feel sad that his wife is allergic to pets. He’s been a good friend. The people of Apple Grove are fortunate to have him as mayor.”

  “I agree.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without him and Tut.”

  “I hope we never find out,” Adam said.

  I stopped in front of my car. A blue truck was parked next to it. Interesting.

  “Yeah, this is me,” Adam admitted.

  I stowed Memnet on the backseat and watched while he settled down.

  Adam did the same with Isis before leaning against the door, watching me. “Tell me I’m not going to have to make a habit of rescuing you.”

  “Who me? Nothing much ever happens to me,” I said. “I lead a boring life. Tonight was a once in a lifetime event.”

  Mem rolled on his side. He licked his whiskers and flicked his lazy tail to agree.

  Adam flexed his fingers and leaned into a runner’s crouch.

  I giggle-snorted with my hands over my mouth. “Donald said Apple Grove is very safe. Everyone I’ve met so far is friendly.”

  He straightened and touched the hair over my cheek. “Something tells me things are never going to be boring with you around.”

  “Not with Memnet and Isis keeping things lively.”

  “So, do you like coffee?” Adam asked. “I know this great little shop.”

  Excerpt from Meow Mayhem

  1

  I jolted alert to the rude 2:48 AM summons of my business phone. Fumbling for the receiver on my nightstand, I squinted. The name and number was unfamiliar. I frowned. In the middle of the night? This must be a crank call. I hoped it wasn’t an angry-at-the-world abusive type. I was tired and not in the mood to be professionally pleasant. I held the headpiece next to my ear and answered. “McTeague Technical Services. This is Ivy. How may I be—”

  “mm…get…help…call…mmm—

  “Don—” I couldn’t make anything out through the crackling static and so I got out of my nice, cozy warm bed and went to stand by the window, hoping for a clearer signal. A burst of static rocketed me backward and I held the phone away from my ear. “Oww!”

  I sat on the end of the bed and checked the phone, expecting smoke. The background was lit, but the call disconnected. I got back into bed but switched on my bedside light. I searched the caller ID and came up with Chicago. Summersby Building.

  A chime indicated an incoming call from the same number.

  “Hello? Who’s there?” A soft buzz sounded and then a distinct click. At least the recorder had been on.

  I yawned. Summersby Building was probably a construction company doing work for one of the new businesses coming to Apple Grove. That’s why I was here, too, invited on behalf of the mayor’s new community growth incentive. I yawned again, turned my business phone to silent and pulled the covers up to my chin.

  The next evening, after my third attempt to reach my friend Donald, the mayor of Apple Grove, Illinois, I ran my fingers across the screen of my personal phone, to view photos of my cat from last year at
Christmas at my home in Maplewood. I usually found pictures cheerful. Comforting. But not the holiday ones which reminded me of all I hated about Christmas.

  Now, in the twilight on the cusp of summer in a new and unfamiliar home, the images made me homesick.

  When I’d moved here two months ago, April Fool’s Day to be exact, the week after the annual spring CAT convention, the phone and cable companies wondered about how I could make McTeague’s Services work with my three servers. I showed them Donald’s letter of reference and the preliminary approval of the exception to the zoning ordinance in this quiet little neighborhood.

  My business was dedicated to tech for non-techies, computer set-ups, web design, personal computer lessons. I supplemented that with other home-based requests that sometimes went along with my home visits, such as pet, houseplant, and mailbox sitting for those going away for whatever reason. Small businesses needed web maintenance. I also offered letter and blog writing services and help with forms. In this day and age of rapidly changing informational systems, everyone needed help.

  I toyed with the phone. This evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Donald’s silence was not a matter of choice. I needed to help my friend. I looked up a phone number and tapped it out.

  “Apple Grove Police. Officer Ripple. How can I help you?”

  “Hello. I…I need to report a missing person. Maybe a kidnapping.”

  “Name?”

  “Ivy Preston.”

  “Right. High Vee? Could you spell that, please.”

  “I–V–Y. Preston.”

  “And where are you now, ma’am? Can you see any weapons? Do you know the name of your kidnappers?”

  “Oh, no, Officer. It’s not me. It’s the mayor.”

  “Mayor? Got that. First name?”

  “Donald.”

  “Donald Mayor. And is he a relative? Is there a note?”

  “No…you’ve got it all mixed up. I’m calling about somebody possibly kidnapping Mayor Donald Conklin.”

  “You think someone’s kidnapping the mayor? That’s a pretty serious charge.”

  “Not doing it. I think they already did.”

  “We’ll send someone over to talk to you. What’s your address?”

  “Three-twelve Marigold.”

  “Ah, yes. The Pagner house. And you have some sort of evidence?”

  “Well, I received the strangest call last night on my business line and now he won’t answer his private number. I’m worried.”

  “Business line?”

  “I own the new tech services business in town. McTeague’s. Donald invited me.”

  “OK. Sit tight. I’m sending Officer Dow over to you to take your statement.”

  “Thank you.” I hung up and wondered what kind of a statement I was expected to give. I had the recording, but unless one understood the context, it could mean anything. Maybe I should call someone. How did I know I can trust the police here? On TV sometimes the bad guys aren’t who people would think. My mental contact list was pretty slim. My neighbors, whom I didn’t know that well. Mom—who lived a couple of hours away.

  A knock on the door saved me from a slide into self-pity. I let in Officer Ann Dow, and smiled politely at the little blonde who looked as if the wind would carry her away if she hadn’t been anchored by her sturdy shoes and even sturdier holstered, shiny black weapon.

  “Thank you for coming.” I’m not a giant, but I had a couple of inches on her. I refrained from telling her I could take point if things got dicey.

  “So, tell me about this alleged kidnapping.” The officer got out her pad and pen. She shushed her shoulder mic.

  “The mayor is missing.”

  She didn’t say anything at first. “And you believe that because…?”

  “I received this strange call late last night. On my business line. Donald asked me to move my tech services business to help Apple Grove. Now he’s not answering my calls.”

  “I’m not privy to the mayor’s office practices,” she said, straight-faced.

  I ignored her implication and instead got out my office phone, explaining she could hear for herself. “This call came in, but it was all static-y and garbled. I couldn’t make out much except ‘Don,’ and ‘get.’”

  She listened. “Get what? ‘Don’? And you think it came from the mayor?”

  “I don’t know for sure. The caller ID said Summersby Building in Chicago. I just thought you should check it out.”

  Officer Dow tapped her pen on her pad. She shook her head and returned to the kitchen, me following like a lost puppy. “I’ll make a report,” she said, reaching for the door. “Maybe you should notify the FCC. If you get threatening calls, you should call the telephone company. We’ll talk to Mrs. Bader-Conklin, who’s been in the office today covering for her husband who’s on a business trip. If that’s all, I’ll let you get back to…what you were doing.”

  “Thank you. But—”

  Click. The door closed. She was gone.

  And I thought Apple Grove seemed like such a nice town.

  I let out a sigh of pure exasperation and tapped my size seven and half sandal on the tile floor. Last night’s phone call…I just couldn’t get it out of my head. I get mistaken numbers, of course, but I had a funny feeling. And that was a new one—Donald’s wife had been in the office? Why had he called my business line?

  Calling the police wasn’t the best first move. But what else could I have done?

  Maybe I should have been mad at him, instead of concerned. With my ringless fingers I tucked a loose spiral of my dishy-blah, frizzy hair back into its sloppy bun. Donald would never have ignored me this long. And he’d want to talk about the next CAT convention coming up. That’s Cat Association Titlists—the group where we met years and years ago. We both owned purebred Egyptian Maus, the only spotted domestic cat.

  I have never been a whimsical person and uprooting myself to move to a new town was a major deal, not something I would have done under normal circumstances, but I’ll get to that later. Let’s just say his request, that I move my business and myself to Apple Grove, happened at a good time. That’s me—Ivy Amanda McTeague Preston—of McTeague Technical Services.

  If the police thought Donald was perfectly safe I should just wait until tomorrow and then see if Mrs. Bader-Conklin had some notion about what was going on. I could go visit her at the office and ask, casual-like, if she’d heard from him. And offer to work on the city’s website.

  ~*~

  My next hint that something was wrong was that Donald’s assistant, Marion Green, was not at her usual post. If the mayor’s office was open for business, Marion at least should be here, even if she supposedly had the week off. Donald joked that she was the one who really ran the town. The stern-looking, black-haired woman who infringed on Marion’s space made me wait fifteen minutes. Donald usually came out of his office when he heard my voice. The light was on. I could see it shining under his door. I supposed Margaret—Mrs. Bader-Conklin—could have been making an urgent call.

  I heard a distinct sneeze from inside the office. Then the tap of high heels.

  Why had I waited so long before getting concerned enough about Donald to call the police? Final registration for CAT was in two days. Donald never missed. He hadn’t registered yet—I checked. We all register as early as we can for the next year to make sure we saved the date, even though the convention is always at the start of spring. He’d take his cat, Tut, out of his wife’s hair for a while, since she was allergic to animal dander. He never said anything negative, but I got the impression the vacation was a three-way blessing between him, his wife, and Tut.

  A woman opened the door to the mayor’s office. I recognized her from a photo that Donald once showed me: Margaret. She studied me over half-glasses perched on a razor-thin nose, thin-penciled eyebrows raised toward her curled-under bangs. I shivered.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Preston. Please.” She gestured to me to follow her. And then she invited me
to sit in the ugly, straight-back chair on the opposite side of Donald’s desk instead of the comfy one in front of the computer. Donald had never done that.

  I warily started a conversation. “I hope Marion isn’t sick.”

  “I gave Mrs. Green a few days off. My personal assistant is with me.” The wife of the mayor of Apple Grove leaned back in her husband’s leather chair. “Now, what can I do for you, Miss…Preston?”

  I swallowed hard. “Uh, well, Don—the mayor—isn’t returning my calls, and he hasn’t registered for our—the—CAT convention yet. I wondered…if you’ve heard from him?” Dang, I tried hard not to squeak with nerves at the end. I couldn’t help it, yet instinct told me that I must not show fear. I hoped she wouldn’t get the wrong impression at my lame excuse to see her.

  “What is the nature of your business with the mayor?”

  I took a deep breath. Maybe I’d sounded a bit strange. “The mayor asked me to bring my tech services business to Apple Grove.”

  Margaret sneezed again and took out a dainty lace handkerchief. “Something in the air,” she muttered, sniffling. “You must have a cat or a dog at home. I’m allergic.”

  “Oh?” I said, stopping before I mentioned I already knew that. Wrong impressions, and all.

  “I recall Donald speaking of you,” she said. “From that little group he goes to, right? So, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Get him signed up.”

  “Well, that’s something people usually do for themselves. Conference fees, and so forth…” I muttered.

  “Oh, just send me a bill, then. Was there anything else?”

  “So, your husband is around? He’s all right?”

  “Of course, he’s all right. Why wouldn’t he be? He just needed a day to…ah, get ready for that cat thing after…ah, meeting with company officials. Letty can handle business.”

  Letty must be the scary woman up front. Margaret stood, and I followed suit. She was taller than me. I supposed if I wore heels instead of tennies, I could have stared at her nose instead of her chin. Three black hairs sprouted under her makeup. I pressed my lips tight to hold in the grin while she turned to open the door to her office.