A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

by Aleksa Baxter

  "You mean Mason as in Masonville, the town? One of the founding families of the valley?"

  "Yep. And Janice Fletcher was a Baker before she got married. One of the other founding families of the valley. They've hated each other since day one."

  "This Mason, he is rich?" Greta asked. "And single?"

  We both looked at her. What did that have to do with anything?

  "I have no idea, Greta," I said. She was certainly an odd one at times.

  "Why don't you ask him when he gets here," Jamie suggested, trying not to smile. She pushed herself to her feet. "In the meantime, I'm going to finish up this last batch of cinnamon rolls for the day." She glanced towards the kitchen. "Who knew I'd come to hate baking cinnamon rolls as much as I did drafting analysis reports?"

  "I can do some of the baking tomorrow if you want," I offered.

  "I might just take you up on that."

  Jamie was a genius in the kitchen, but I could hold my own when I wanted to, especially if I was working from one of her recipes. I put that aside for the time being, though. Mason Maxwell was headed our way and for some reason I felt that warranted a tidying up binge. He wasn't exactly condescending, but he was very clearly a man with standards that most people didn't meet.

  If he was going to be our attorney in this, I wanted to make the best impression possible.

  Mason Maxwell walked through the door exactly an hour later. With his salt and pepper hair and country club attire (nice slacks and a polo shirt this time), he looked very out of place in our cutesy kitschy little café. I felt like he weighed and judged the entire place with that steely gaze of his.

  Greta was still there and she watched him with a studied bemusement. Given the amount of money she had some mere millionaire wasn't going to phase her one bit.

  "Mr. Maxwell," I said. "Thank you for coming out on such short notice."

  "It is the nature of my business," he replied. "How is your grandfather?"

  "He's well, thank you. No more cops showing up to arrest him certainly helps." I smiled, but he didn't match my smile. Maybe because I'd sort of kind of ignored his advice when he was representing my grandpa and had ended up getting my grandpa arrested because of it. Or maybe that's just how he was.

  Jamie came out from the kitchen to join us, rebraiding her long brown hair as she did so. She had a smudge of flour on her cheek and another one on the tip of her nose making her look impossibly adorable. "Mr. Maxwell? Jamie Green. Nice to meet you."

  He actually smiled at her.

  (I figured that was a good thing. It helps when your attorney actually likes you, but I still felt a little bitter that he hadn't smiled at me when I said hi.)

  He glanced around, pausing pointedly on Greta. "It would be best if we could have this conversation in private."

  "I can leave." Greta closed her laptop. "But first I would like to meet this man." She came over to us, hand extended. "Greta VanVeldenstein."

  "Mason Maxwell. I believe I've dealt with your nephew and your husband a few times on the land development deal they're planning."

  "Ah, yes. Wilhelm has dreams. But not much else, sadly to say. My husband hopes to save him from certain failure."

  I stared at her. Even if that was true, who says that to a stranger?

  Mason Maxwell took it in stride. "Well, hopefully between your husband and myself we can make that happen."

  She nodded, but it was clear she didn't believe it. "You should come for dinner. My husband would like that." She glanced at Jamie and me before adding, "You and your wife?"

  "No wife. Just me."

  She smiled. "This is sad. But you would like a wife someday?"

  If she hadn't kept looking at us I would have almost enjoyed seeing how uncomfortable her questions made him. Who knew that someone could ruffle Mason Maxwell?

  "I…Yes. Someday. I just haven't met the right woman yet."

  That was a good excuse. I'd have to use that one myself. (Except it was a lie, of course.)

  "Good. Then I will find you a wife." As Greta patted his arm he flinched, but I wasn't sure if it was because of her intent to find him a wife or her touching him so casually.

  I stepped forward and gently steered her away. "Well then, Greta. Now that you have your latest matchmaking assignment, we better get started with our meeting. See you tomorrow?"

  She nodded. "Yes. I will see you tomorrow."

  Chapter Ten

  I walked her to the door and locked it while Jamie locked the other side. We joined Mason Maxwell at a table in the center of the barkery where there was lots of room.

  "Would you like something to eat?" Jamie asked. "I make a really good cinnamon roll. Or we have soup and panini I could heat up for you."

  "Actually, lunch would be great. I was caught in meetings earlier and only managed to eat a granola bar for lunch. I have heard good things about this place. Time I tried it out myself."

  Jamie beamed at him and hurried to the kitchen to make him up a plate of food.

  I stared at him awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. He wasn't exactly the type for small talk. "Um, why don't I get you a copy of the emotional support animal certificate Janice Fletcher provided us. You can look that over while Jamie heats up your lunch."

  "Yes. Excellent."

  "Okay then."

  I ran to the back, grabbed the document, gave it to him, and then hurried back to the kitchen to keep Jamie company. I simply didn't know what to do with a man like Mason Maxwell. He was so…formal. It wasn't his money that put me off, it was the stick up his butt.

  (Sorry. I know. That's rude. But someone who always has perfect posture and never has a thing out of place just…It's not natural. It's not human.)

  While I waited I heated myself up a cinnamon roll and grabbed a Coke from the mini fridge. What can I say? My version of the four food groups is a little different than the average person's.

  I watched Mason Maxwell from the edge of the doorway where I didn't think he could see.

  "What are you doing?" Jamie came to stand next to me and peeked over my shoulder.

  "He scares me. He's very intense. Do you know when he met Fancy she wouldn't even go near him? He told me that dogs were pack animals and that you just had to show them who was the alpha."

  She laughed. "I would've liked to see that. And he's not that bad is he? He seems very smart. And kind."

  I frowned at her. "He's definitely smart. Scary smart. And that's definitely what you want in a lawyer. But…" I shivered. "Kind? Where'd you get that from?"

  "I don't know. Something in his eyes maybe."

  I snorted.

  Jamie turned away to remove Mason's sandwich from the sandwich press and put it on a plate, adding a small bowl of tomato soup to go along with it. I grabbed my cinnamon roll and followed her to the table.

  Mason Maxwell eyed my food choices with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Good thing. He might intimidate me, but I would defend my sugary food choices to the grave. (Yeah, yeah, make the funny comment about how someone who eats like me probably will die from those choices. I'll wait.)

  Jamie ran back to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee while Mason took his first bites of food. When she returned he gave her a hundred-watt smile that so surprised me I almost fell out of my chair. "This is delicious. I may have to start coming here every day."

  (Unlikely. He lived at least twenty minutes away and worked from home as far as I knew.)

  "You'd be welcome, of course." Jamie flashed her dimples at him.

  I stared at them, wondering what exactly was going on. Did they like each other? And if so, what did I think about that? I mean, Mason Maxwell was certainly better than Lucas Dean, but…he was Mason Maxwell. My light-hearted but fierce friend deserved better than this intense man with his too-perfect shoes. I mean, really, who wears a pair of Italian loafers in a Colorado mountain town. This wasn't Vail or Aspen. This was Bakerstown. Buy a good pair of hiking boots, would ya?

  "Before we get
too far with using your legal help," I said, "I think I should warn you we're kind of limited in terms of funds. So taking her to court or something like that is probably not an option."

  He took another bite of his food and chewed it thoroughly before responding, his enjoyment of the food evident. "We can work something out. Janice Fletcher has created difficulties for me in the past. It would be nice to be able to repay that." He nodded towards his food. "Actually, as long as you are willing to provide me with lunch on a regular basis, I would say that should cover the costs."

  I stared at him. I'd seen the bill he sent my grandpa and it was not cheap. We'd be feeding him for years. But that would be a lot easier to cover than a big whopping bill.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Consider it pro bono work with a twist."

  Jamie flashed him another smile. "You have a deal."

  "Good."

  It turned out that Janice Fletcher's emotional support cat was not in fact allowed into the café and barkery. Only a legitimate service animal had to be accommodated in a restaurant in Colorado, and only dogs and miniature horses qualified. So no cats.

  Maybe Janice could take her little bevy of protestors to the state capitol and leave me alone for a while.

  I was so happy I could've kissed Mason Maxwell. (Well, maybe not that happy. I still found him very off-putting. Jamie could've though. She was all googly eyed over him.)

  "So that settles it then." I sat back, wondering why he'd driven all this way out here just to tell us that.

  "Not exactly."

  "What do you mean?"

  Mason Maxwell leveled a gaze at me that had me feeling decidedly foolish. "There is the court of law and then there is the court of public opinion. You already saw the damage Ms. Fletcher did with that newspaper article about how you wanted to keep locals out of your store."

  "But that turned out fine because Jamie just gave them all free cinnamon rolls, so now we have more customers than ever."

  "You lucked out last time. But will you the next time Janice Fletcher gets her nephew to write a smear article about this place? The woman is relentless. Other women knit, Janice Fletcher makes it her mission to destroy people."

  That didn't sound good.

  Jamie drummed her fingers on the table. "So she won't back down even though the law is on our side."

  "No. I do not believe she will. Once she realizes this attempt failed, she will try to come at you some other way."

  "What other way?" I asked. She'd already protested and served us with this fake letter. What was left?

  He shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that Janice Fletcher does not quit. So if there is anything, anything at all that you have been letting slide, now is the time to fix it. You do not want to have any sort of weakness she can exploit."

  "What is her deal?" I demanded. "Seriously. It sounds like the world would be a much better place if she'd just drop dead."

  Mason Maxwell leveled his gray-eyed stare at me. "Ms. Carver I would suggest that you keep any wishes for someone to drop dead to yourself. Our conversations are protected by attorney-client privilege, but it is simply a good habit to adopt to never publicly wish for the death of another person."

  I snorted. "Like I'm going to kill her. Honestly. Plus, she looks perfectly healthy to me. That old bat will be torturing people for decades."

  "You saw with your grandfather that perception matters more than reality. Do not make the same mistake he did."

  "Fine. I hope she lives a long and healthy life of making everyone around her miserable. And I hope we're still in the midst of cat and dog wars a decade from now. Happy?"

  "Maggie." Jamie frowned at me. "He's just trying to help."

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. I knew that, but a part of me was very much done with his condescending attitude. "Okay then. We'll make sure everything is buttoned up and perfect. Thank you for coming out here and giving us such useful advice."

  I stood up.

  Neither Mason Maxwell nor Jamie joined me.

  With a small huff I gathered up the empty plates and took them to the kitchen. Let them do whatever they were doing. I needed to look for any signs of weakness that Janice Fletcher could exploit.

  Chapter Eleven

  The whole way home I tried to figure out exactly what Janice Fletcher's next move was going to be. And just how much of a spark there'd been between Jamie and Mason Maxwell. And how much that did or did not upset me. Of course I wanted my best friend to be happy, but Mason Maxwell?

  Only as I opened the front door did I remember that my grandpa had invited Matt over for dinner. There he was, seated on the brown couch in the living room, Fancy curled up at his side. He looked more at home there than I ever did. And worse yet, Fancy didn't even bother to get down to come see me when I walked in. She barely lifted her head off her paws.

  You know it's a bad day when even your dog is mad at you.

  "Hey, Maggie." Matt toasted me with the beer in his hand.

  "Hey. Forgot you were coming over tonight. Sorry I'm so late." My grandpa came out of the kitchen with a big casserole dish in his hands and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I really am. But this couldn't wait."

  He'd set the dining room table with my grandma's best china, but no wine glasses this time. Seems it was going to be a beer kind of night. (Which was honestly just fine with me. I'll drink a glass of wine, no problem, but when given the choice I usually go for a nice porter or brown ale of some sort instead of wine.)

  "Can I help?" I asked.

  "You can grab the salad from the kitchen," he grumbled, clearly not happy with me.

  I grabbed the salad and a bottle of ranch dressing. If Matt wanted something else he was just going to have to suck it up because ranch was the only dressing choice in our household. We didn't even have vinegar around to make oil and vinegar.

  By the time I made it to the table they were both seated and waiting for me. So was Fancy. She'd sat herself down by my chair and proceeded to drool a nice little puddle onto the floor. She's not much of a drooler under normal circumstances, but put food near her and she becomes a faucet.

  I set the salad and dressing on the table and turned back towards the kitchen. "Start without me."

  "What are you doing, Maggie May? Everything's already on the table."

  "I forgot Fancy's sharing plate."

  "Got one right here," Matt called.

  I turned to see him set a small plate in front of her and drop a piece of turkey from the casserole on it. As my heart did a little flip I wondered why he had to be so good with dogs. Or at least with my dog. It wasn't fair.

  My grandpa grunted. He did not like the fact that I fed Fancy from the table. In his world dogs were supposed to only eat dog food. And live outside. Or, at most, come into the laundry area. They were most definitely not supposed to have their own plate at meals. Nor were they supposed to sleep on the couch or have five different dog beds. But if I had to choose between making Fancy happy and making my grandpa happy, well, Fancy was going to win out each and every time. At least on the small things.

  Matt, ever the diplomat, asked, "So, why were you late tonight? You said it couldn't be helped?"

  "Two words. Janice Fletcher. Do you know that woman showed up at the barkery today claiming that her cat Pookums is an emotional support animal?"

  Matt and my grandpa both laughed.

  "It's not funny. I cannot have cats in that store."

  "Why not?" Matt asked. "It's just one cat. And, no offense, but you're pretty slow most of the time. I figure you'd welcome the extra customer."

  I glared at him. All I wanted was for one frickin' person to agree with me.

  "Just one cat, huh? Did you know she wants to let her cat roam free? That's not even sanitary. And if a dog goes after her cat that could be dangerous. I'd probably get sued. Not to mention I am very, very allergic to cats. It's a dog barkery, for crying out loud, not a cat café."

  My grandpa studied
me across the table. "So Janice Fletcher has her sights on you, does she?"

  "Seems so. And Mason Maxwell said she's not the type to give up until she's ruined us."

  "True. She's taken more than one business in this county down. It doesn't help that that nephew of hers is willing to print any slanderous story she asks him to."

  He spent the next ten minutes telling us horror stories about Janice Fletcher. Seems she'd even caused one poor store owner to be beaten by a customer who believed her nephew when he printed a story insinuating the man was a sex trafficker.

  A sex trafficker? In Baker Valley, Colorado? Population not big enough for that sort of thing? I don't think so.

  "It sounds to me like the world would be a better place if she'd just drop dead and die." I stabbed at a piece of carrot on my plate and sent it shooting across the table. My grandpa caught it and threw it under the table to Fancy.

  "That's a little redundant, isn't it?" Matt teased. "I'd figure it would be enough for her to just drop dead."

  I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth and glared him down as I chewed on it.

  "Ouch. You're in a serious mood tonight."

  "I just can't get a break. I mean, I moved up here to take care of him." I nodded towards my grandpa. "And he doesn't want my help."

  "That's right." My grandpa nodded.

  "I opened a store with my best friend but now she's all caught up in finding someone and getting married. And then every time I think I'm going to make some progress in turning the barkery into a real business something like this happens."

  "Jamie's looking to settle down, huh?" Matt looked thoughtful as he took his next bite of food.

  "Don't tell her I told you that!"

  "She have anyone in mind?"

  Was he seriously interested in her? I mean, I wouldn't blame him if he was, but…Ah! Life. It was not being very kind to me.

  "I don't know. She doesn't want to talk to me about it."