by Jen Talty
An older woman with graying hair steps from the office, greeting the crowd with a welcoming smile, but it’s obvious, she too is slightly interested in whatever is happening between her employee and another customer.
It isn’t until the customer disappears into the office that I focus my attention back to the older lady as she explains the rules with such enthusiasm that even I feel a tinge of excitement. Okay, I’m more indifferent, but I’m listening, and one thing strikes me as odd. If a person can’t afford to pay their storage fee, how can anything of value be left behind?
Well, I’m about to find out as the woman cuts the lock off the first unit. Now, the humans are not allowed to enter the box. They have to make their bids based what they see from the outside. This one happens to be filled with unopened boxes, but maybe, deep in the back, there is something of value.
I press my paws against my human, and she kindly sets me on the ground. I pop inside, making my way around, nudging a few boxes along the way. The musty scent tickles my nose, so no sniffing around. I know Annabel has limited funds, so I want to help her get the most for her money, and this one isn’t it.
A man, not much older than Annabel, wins the bid for a thousand dollars. I sincerely hope the contents are worth it.
I follow the crowd to the next unit. This one too has a lot of boxes, but the tops are open and one in particular catches my interest. A white wedding veil cascades over the cardboard.
I shudder. Even months later, the world is still abuzz about the Royal wedding. I watched days of coverage on the telly from the comfort of Tammy Lynn’s lap, but really, even my love of all things British was taxed by the gossipy and sometimes tawdry American perspective.
Careful not to draw too much attention to myself, I enter the storage unit. I’m an expert at blending in, and it’s one of the reasons I’m the best detective.
And I know Sherlock Holmes would agree.
I weave my way through a maze of boxes filled with more veils, dried flowers, and now I’m standing in front of a mannequin, dressed in a beautiful, lacy, white gown. Not as eloquent as Meghan Markle’s, but it has potential, had it not had a big tear down the side of the train.
As much as I want nothing to do with weddings, this is the unit for Annabel, and I need to find a way to tell her without cueing the rest of the group that the contents are indeed worth a pretty penny. I hear a male voice start the bidding at one thousand dollars. Lucky for Annabel, I’m quick on my feet and a great cat-to-human communicator.
I rub my side against her leg, then take a few steps toward the storage unit. I repeat this a few times, making sure I look directly at Annabel before turning my head.
“What is it, Trouble?” she whispers, kneeling.
Someone in the back of the crowd raises their hand and yells, “Fifteen hundred.”
I raise my paw, glancing over at the woman asking for another bid.
“You think this is a good one?”
Bingo. Not that I would ever say bingo, but Annabel is turning out to be smarter than the average human.
“Two thousand.” Annabel lifts me once again. I could get used to being carried around wherever I go. The view up here isn’t too bad either.
“Twenty-two hundred,” the competing voice shouts.
I raise my paw, giving Annabel a look that says keep going until you can’t go anymore. Not all humans would understand this look, but I have faith in this one.
“Twenty-five hundred,” she says.
“Twenty-seven hundred,” another voice insists.
I hold my paw high and tap her shoulder. My amusement in storage wars fades as the temperature in sunny Florida rises and the humidity sticks to my elegant coat. I really want to get back to the windowsill in the master bedroom. I love the way the sun beats down this time of the morning while the fan above pushes a cool air-conditioned breeze in my direction, making it a perfect place to relax and take a nap.
“Twenty-nine hundred,” Annabel bids.
“Sold to the lady with the cat.”
Finally. We can go back to the condo.
“Let’s go see what we’ve got,” Annabel’s tone is electric.
I yawn and climb up on one of the boxes where a tad of sunlight brightens the dingy storage area and curl up, licking my paw.
My work here is done.
Annabel stood in front of a lacy wedding dress with a high neckline, much like she would have picked for herself maybe five years ago. Just above the breast line, woven into the mesh fabric was a pattern that looked as if it were the sign for female.
Annabel took a step back, admiring the classic dress with a frown, noticing the tear in the back, but being handy with a needle, she knew she could easily stitch it since it appeared to be on the seam.
The sleek, satin fabric of the bodice glided across her fingertips like velvet. The same silky material flowed down the sleeves to the wrist where an elastic band coiled around the hard, cool mannequin finger with a broken gold band.
“That’s odd, don’t you think?” She ran her finger over the bent ring, wondering how that had happened. It wasn’t like gold metal was easily damaged.
She circled the dress, holding up the traditional train pooled at the floor, showing off a rose petal-like pattern, making sure she could indeed fix the tear.
She eyed the detail of the beads woven into the dress. They glowed a soft-pink color when the sunrays caught them just right.
It reminded her of her great aunt’s gown that her cousin had altered in an attempt to modernize it without stripping it of its elegant history. A clash of present day style and timeless beauty.
Another beautiful wedding where Annabel had been a bridesmaid. Another event that reminded her of the eight years she’d wasted waiting for a man to commit to the long-term part of their relationship.
But the only thing Devin could ever devote his life to was his bank account and countless one-night stands that she had refused to acknowledge until her best friend’s wedding.
What a wretched night that had been.
Another gown peeked out of a bag hanging on a rolling rack. This one was lined with ruffles, all big and fluffy. It had a princess neckline and was sleeveless, although, the material wasn’t nearly as soft as the one displayed so eloquently.
She glanced back at the decapitated mannequin and shivered. It needed a head with a painted face, fake hair, and a veil. Otherwise it looked like it should be in some horror movie where the bride wandered the dark halls of an old church or the headless horseman raced down the street.
Pushing aside the feathery gown, she came across a pink bridesmaid dress. And not just any pink, but Pepto-Bismol pink. She cringed at the thought of having to wear it with its large shoulder pads and plunging neckline that ended in a point right above where she suspected her belly button would be. She’d been lucky, most of the dresses her friends and family had put her in were tasteful, and some she’d even been able to wear to other special events.
Not that she had anything special these days to go to, but it was nice to know she had a few options if her prince ever rolled in.
Next to pukey-pink was a yellow taffeta dress with a massive bow resting in the back, spanning the distance across the waistline, and two matching smaller ones on each shoulder.
Whatever bride made their maid of honor wear that hideous thing should be shoved into a mud puddle right after saying ‘I do.’ Talk about bad taste.
Annabel adjusted her baseball cap. Who was she to talk? Ever since her breakup with Devin, she’d been sporting rags. Her mother had been so mortified the last time she’d dropped by that she sent Annabel a gift card to the mall.
“I think I’ll open that box first.” Annabel folded open the chair she’d found and sat in front of the open door, letting the sun hit her face.
The black cat circled the mannequin a couple of times, climbing up on hind legs as if to take a better look at the wedding band.
Curious kitten.
“What do y
ou think?” Annabel asked.
Trouble slinked back in her direction, leapt up on a box, and curled his tail and licked his front paw with meticulous care. She’d never had a pet before, but she could get used to having a cat around.
Especially one as easygoing as Trouble.
She flipped open the top of the box and pulled out a tiara. Running her fingers over the top, she wondered if any of the jewels that dotted the silver material could be real. They certainly sparkled like a rainbow after a warm summer’s rain. She set it down next to Trouble, who shifted to the edge of the box, eyeing her suspiciously. “Aww, come on. Let’s see how it looks.” Before Trouble could scramble away, she managed to wrest the veil over the cat’s head.
He meowed and hissed as he twisted and subsequently toppled off the box, tangling himself in the veil.
“You should have held still, you silly cat.” Annabel carefully helped Trouble out of the wedding accessory.
He found a box a little farther away to curl up on.
She pulled out a small, white teardrop hat. A veil about two feet in length with white beads lining the bottom had been glued to the back of it. She tugged off her cap and rested the hat on her head and pulled half the veil over her face. “How about this one?” She cocked her head and put on her best sarcastic grin.
Trouble held up one of his front paws and lowered his head, as if to say, ‘hell no.’
“I don’t like it much either. Not my style and I doubt I’ll do the white dress thing now, anyway. I’m more of a sundress on the beach kind of girl.” It wasn’t that long ago that she and Devin had been discussing the possibility of getting married. Well, she discussed it, and he always had a reason for waiting a few more years. At first, she was just fine with that. She never wanted to marry young and figured walking down the aisle sometime near her thirtieth birthday would be the perfect time.
She’d be thirty in a month and had not a single prospect.
She pushed the thoughts of Devin out of her mind. You couldn’t make someone love you, and he loved someone else.
Himself.
Digging through the box, she found a velvet pouch. She dumped the contents into her hands and gasped. “Oh my, look at this,” Annabel whispered, holding a large diamond ring in front of the cat, who blinked once, only mildly impressed by the shiny rock.
It sparkled as it caught the sunlight shimmering through the open bay door. The only question now: was it real?
“What do you think, Trouble?”
The sleek, black cat perked his head up for a moment, his tail swishing with a sophisticated swagger. Smart cat. She might not have held out for this particular unit had it not been for her furry new friend. Ever since the cat had shown up, her luck seemed to be changing, and after the year she’d had, she welcomed a little positive shift in the cosmos.
Whoever said black cats weren’t lucky hadn’t come across Trouble.
Darn, she hoped she hadn’t just jinxed herself. She made a mental note to make sure a ladder never entered the same space as the cat.
“The stone is real, right?” The only way to find out would be to have it appraised, but she’d need to do some research first and take an inventory of everything in the unit. She didn’t have to rush this, like she did so many things in her life. When she moved too quickly, she screwed things up.
A frustrated male voice caught her attention. She glanced toward the main building where a tall man wearing a short-sleeved, white dress shirt, pink shorts, and a baseball cap pointed in the direction of the storage units. She squinted, but the blazing sun made it impossible to get a good look at who it was, much less what he was saying. He delivered the words with fury and anger-fueled waving of his arms.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” she asked, shaking her head, realizing she was conversing with a cat.
Trouble left his post and stood as if on high alert at the edge of the storage unit.
Curiously odd cat, but good company.
She grinned and focused on the rings. There had to be a story behind these items. Perhaps they belonged to a couple who’d been happily married for fifty years.
Or, they could belong to a divorced couple.
She took one of the rings and held it up in the sunlight as a Jupiter police car made the turn into the parking lot.
That couldn’t be good.
Like a doe in headlights, she stared at the vehicle. Deep down she hoped the cop behind the wheel would be Ethan Ferris. She’d been in Jupiter for three weeks now, and she had yet to run into him. Not even when she’d had coffee with his sister, Rosie, and their mother, at his childhood home in the Bluffs. Not that she wanted to see him for any particular reason, she told herself. She was four years younger than him, and they traveled in different circles, but he was her best friend’s brother, and by default, her friend.
The last time she’d seen Ethan had been at Rosie’s wedding. Talk about awkward. Nothing like having your childhood crush walk you down the aisle as the maid of honor while his girlfriend flirted with your boyfriend.
And her behavior afterward. Her cheeks burned, remembering that scene in the hotel bar. Why she’d dared him to do a shot out of her belly button was a question she had no answer for.
That encounter successfully ended her relationship with Devin and destroyed Ethan’s pending nuptials, though both had been about to end anyway.
A man stepped from the patrol car, but the angle of the sun blinded her. She stood, pulling her ball cap over her eyes and got a better view.
Officer Ethan William Ferris stuffed his sunglasses into the upper right pocket of his uniform.
He styled his brown hair in a high fade crew cut, which showed off his defined facial features. He hadn’t changed much over the years. If anything, he’d gotten better-looking.
She squinted, trying to get a good look, remembering his amazing green eyes. In her nearly thirty years, she’d never seen eyes the color of an emerald before. When she’d been in high school and she’d spend the night at Rosie’s house, her cheeks would run hot every time she caught his gaze.
Trouble tilted his head, one paw folded over the other, indifferent to the man in uniform.
“Nice specimen of a man, isn’t he?” she asked the cat.
Trouble cocked his head and blinked.
“Come on, he’s hot,” Annabel mused as she sat down, kicking her leg back and forth restlessly. Ethan had been captain of the football and baseball teams and every girl’s dream prom date. But Ethan only saw her as his kid sister’s sidekick. “I’m tripping down memory lane talking to a cat. I’m turning into an old spinster.” She shook her head and checked her watch. “Let’s go, Trouble. We’ll come back tomorrow and take inventory.” Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as she rushed so she could at least say hello. No reason to avoid him.
After she boxed everything up, she locked her storage unit and made her way toward the gate where Ethan stood, thumbs looped into his belt, nodding his head at the storage facility manager’s comments. The irritated customer was nowhere to be found.
She scratched the top of Trouble’s head. Her pulse accelerated like it had when she’d been fourteen and Ethan had once driven her home from school.
Without Rosie.
Ethan had pulled into her parents’ driveway in a well-hidden, gated neighborhood a few blocks from the Bluffs. When she pushed open the car door, turning her head to say good-bye, Ethan winked.
At her.
Hitting the button on the key fob to her Jeep, she reminded herself she was no adolescent, and she sure as hell didn’t need a man. What she needed was to get her real estate license, since her New York one did nothing for her in the state of Florida.
Ethan snagged his sunglasses and just as he slid them up his nose, he turned his head and did a double take. “Well, I’ll be damned. My sister told me you were back in town. She said something about buying a condo in Ocean Way?”
“Moved in three weeks ago and I love it,” she said, reaching for the
passenger side door and pulling it open.
He sauntered over, closing the gap between his patrol vehicle and her car. “You look great.” He leaned in, dipping her cap, and kissed her cheek. A normal greeting for old friends.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Officer.”
He laughed. “Who’s your friend?” He scratched behind Trouble’s ear.
She watched his fingers dig and twirl in the cat’s fur. “This is Trouble. I’m cat-sitting for a week.”
“Interesting name for a cat.” Ethan, with his square jaw and high cheekbones, had the kind of smile that mesmerized anyone who dared to look.
She dared way too often. No matter how old she’d gotten, or who she’d been dating, Ethan always managed to make her heart beat just a little faster.
“Easiest cat I’ve ever met. And the smartest, too.” When she set Trouble on the cat bed, he stood there for a long moment and stared at her with his head tilted. It was as if he were amused by her interaction with Ethan.
“I never did get to apologize for what happened the night of Rosie’s wedding,” Ethan said, leaning against her car and folding his arms across his chest.
“Nothing happened,” she said, trying not to let the memories flood her mind.
“Your boyfriend caught us in a slightly compromising position, and I’m sorry if that caused you more problems with Devin.”
“We did nothing wrong.”
“I was sucking alcohol off your stomach.” Ethan grinned.
“Adolescent, poor decision-making, sure. Alcohol fueled, you bet. But he was screwing someone else anyway.” She closed the passenger door and made her way to the driver’s side, slipped in and started the car, making sure the air-conditioning kicked in.
Ethan leaned against the hood of the car. “What a pair we are. I mean, my fiancé was doing the nasty with what’s-his-name right under my nose.”
“You mean—”
Ethan held his hand up. “They’re getting married next weekend, and I just prefer not to hear his name. It’s worse than fingers on a chalkboard.”
