Boo Who

by Rene Gutteridge

  CHAPTER 19

  WOLFE HAD TO WORK LATE, and Ainsley’s father had decided to take Thief to a therapist, so she found herself alone in the house. Which was probably a good thing. She’d spent the day running around the town trying to play catch-up on all the wedding plans she’d failed to make in the earlier weeks. She’d accomplished only half of what she needed to do.

  By the afternoon, she found herself trembling from anxiety, and exhausted. She took an hour nap before getting up and realizing she hadn’t even planned dinner yet. She threw together a simple casserole and then sat in the living room, sketching out her ideas for flower arrangements.

  The Nativity set caught her eye. She observed it, trying to find a way to reconcile herself to the fact of the missing Wise Men. After all, the most important figure of the entire set was there: Baby Jesus. Mary and Joseph didn’t seem bothered by it. The shepherds were probably happy about it, no rivaling porcelain figures on the other side of the mantel.

  As she stared at the scene, she found herself observing the fact that everybody up on that mantel knew all they should about themselves. The shepherds had their role. The angels had theirs. The animals knew where to stand. Mary and Joseph’s whole life had been defined for them. And Baby Jesus … his whole life’s work was to help others define themselves as children loved by God.

  And Ainsley Parker knew what hers was too. It certainly wasn’t as noble as being the mother of the Savior of the world, but nevertheless, it gave her an identity all her own. And according to Alfred, she would be doing it on a much larger scale very soon. It was nice to have some-one believe in everything you’d suspected about yourself for years but didn’t have the courage to articulate. Nobody would’ve believed in her talents. Not even herself! She just knew what she was good at, and she’d tried really hard to be even better. Now it was paying off.

  She walked over to the mantel and gently picked up Jesus. The mystery of how a little Baby Boy could hold her in His hands was tucked deep into her heart.

  A knock came at her door, and she gently set the figure back where it belonged. At the door, she was surprised to see Alfred.

  “Hi.” She smiled.

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  Alfred led the way into the living room. “I have good news,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Harper Jones is very interested in seeing more of you.”

  “Really!” She reminded herself that jumping up and down like a schoolgirl was not going to portray the right image. She clasped her hands and smiled graciously.

  “It’s true. But he needs to see you in action.”

  “What does that mean? Should I have him over for dinner?”

  “No. More like we need to find that big event you can be in charge of. We’ll bring a TV crew out to tape it. We’ll edit it up and format it like we would a TV show. It would be a sort of pilot. If they like what they see, Ainsley, you could be on your way to stardom.”

  Ainsley shook her head. She could hardly believe it. Looking at Alfred she said, “But what kind of event?”

  “I don’t know,” Alfred admitted. “We’re going to have to find something. I’ll be thinking about it.” Alfred took her hands and smiled warmly. “This is it, kiddo. This is your moment. Time for you to shine. All these years you’ve been in that kitchen working your tail off, probably for the most part underappreciated. But it has all paid off now. Thanks to Martha’s little downfall, my friend, you may be rising faster than a loaf of basil-tomato bread.”

  Ainsley nodded, but she couldn’t help but feel a little grief. It was hard to take the place of someone so great. Alfred squeezed her hands. “don’t fret, Ainsley. This is what you were born to do.”

  Thoughts of big kitchens, fancy serving dishes, and gourmet foods were interrupted by Alfred looking up at the mantel and saying, “Hey. Where are the Wise Men?”

  Wolfe was trying his hardest to control his emotions. But right now all he wanted to do was berate this impossibly indecisive customer. For five hours now this man, Mr. Hyatt, had been on the car lot. The Road to the Sale had taken an hour. Since then, they’d been haggling over pennies. And it wasn’t just Mr. Hyatt, though he was a penny pincher if there ever was one. But it was also Oliver, who refused to consent or even meet halfway. Sure, they weren’t going to make a ton of money off the deal, but wasn’t a little money better than nothing? Looked as if they could bring in about four hundred dollars.

  And so Wolfe was the go-between, which was completely exhausting. The charismatic smile Oliver insisted he wear in front of all customers could not reflect less what he was feeling on the inside.

  Wolfe plodded back to the office where Mr. Hyatt sat, his face pinched as tightly as the twisted folds of a belly button.

  “Well,” Wolfe said heartily, inserting happiness into his tone. “Looks like we may have finally come to a deal.”

  Mr. Hyatt nodded, though his eyes dulled with skepticism. “I would hope so.”

  “Looks like Mr. Stepaphanolopolis will come down that extra five hundred dollars. But only if you’ll agree to purchase the All-Weather package, which will provide a rustproof sealant on the bottom of your car in case of—”

  “What?” Mr. Hyatt fumed. “I’ve been sitting in this office for five hours while you bat this deal back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball. Mister, I have given you my final offer. Take it or leave it!”

  At this point, Wolfe knew exactly what he was supposed to do. A friendly smile. An understanding nod. A polite response about how he would have to go back to the finance manager and “see if the numbers would fly.”

  But Wolfe was supposed to be off two hours ago. He should be at home finalizing honeymoon plans. Instead, he was, in Mr. Hyatt’s words, the Ping-Pong ball being batted.

  “Tell you what,” Wolfe said, leaning across the desk like he might just whisper a secret. Mr. Hyatt leaned forward in anticipation. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Three times. Whoever loses consents to the other’s deal.”

  “What in the blue moon are you talking about?” Mr. Hyatt asked.

  “Well, I’m a little tired, frankly, of going back and forth to the Great Wizard. And actually, he’s just an ordinary guy trying to make a living. I’m sure you’re fed up with the process. Rustproofing your car is hardly what you had in mind, is it? So let’s just settle it here and now. Do I need to remind you how to play?”

  “What is going on here?” Oliver was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.

  “This man is nuts!” Mr. Hyatt said, standing and gathering his coat and hat. “He wants to play kid games with me.”

  Oliver’s eyes cut to Wolfe, and Wolfe realized that because he’d gotten fed up, he was getting ready to lose a deal for Oliver.

  “Wait, please, Mr. Hyatt,” Oliver was saying, following the man out the door. Wolfe watched through the window as Oliver scurried after him and out of sight.

  Sighing, he fell into his chair. He’d made a grave mistake out of frustration with an industry he had little tolerance for. Oliver had instructed him on what to do, and he had failed. He wasn’t cut out for this, and he knew it. Whatever his new destiny would be, it wouldn’t be in the car business.

  He looked up to find Oliver stomping toward the office, the skin on his face slowly turning a purple-red. Pointing his pudgy finger at him, Oliver yelled, “You’re fired!”

  Dr. Hass had been in Skary, Indiana, for a month, and every day seemed more bizarre than the one before. He was making a nice living so far, but had barely started his business. Plans were taking shape, and he thought his experiment was going quite nicely, but other than that, all he did was listen to peoples problems, which turned out to pay pretty well. But goodness, this town was a mess! You would think with all the cats running around, people would understand their soothing nature and adopt one or two as their own. It was well documented that a pet, especially a cat, was able to lift a persons s
pirits. So why was everyone so upset over all these petty problems? Next week alone he already had five appointments set up, not including Melb Cornforth, who insisted on being seen twice a week until her wedding. That, of course, was before she’d stormed out of his office in pursuit of pie.

  His newest patient was going to prove to be quite a challenge. He sat in the chair across from Dr. Hass, eyes narrow and uninviting, hanging over the arm like he owned the place. But it was this patient Dr. Hass had the most hope for. And, indeed, the most passion for.

  “You say he’s like this all the time?” Dr. Hass asked Sheriff Parker. The sheriff, a burly guy with a thick mustache to counter his smiling eyes and easygoing demeanor, nodded solemnly.

  “Ever since he had that surgery, all he does is lie around. He has no spunk to him. You should’ve seen him before. He’d bound out the door every day, a smile on his face, bounce to his step. Now look at him.”

  Dr. Hass studied the cat. There was not too much he could conclude by looking at him. He’d curled himself up in the chair, haughty like most cats, which is why Dr. Hass loved them so much. He could relate to the feline race’s thoughts of superiority. Though he was working on trying to combat egotistical feelings, there was always comfort knowing the cat was out there not trying to combat his in the least.

  Sheriff Parker was staring at the poster of Napoleon, but didn’t say anything.

  “So did this begin right after the operation?”

  “Yes. At first I thought it was just due to the physical soreness of the operation. But then, as the wound healed, I realized he wasn’t getting any better. I don’t even think Thief would eat if I didn’t spoon-feed him,” the sheriff said, a slight tremble in his voice.

  “You’re, um, spoon-feeding your cat?”

  The sheriff nodded solemnly. “He used to eat the dry cat food, but that’s hard to fit on a spoon, so I bought the moist stuff. I have to take it up to him, along with his water, every morning and every night. I’ve been doing some massage techniques on him, trying to relax him so he’ll feel better, but that doesn’t seem to work either. Doctor, I believe he is depressed.”

  “Depressed.”

  “His—well, his recreation has been taken from him. Now he’s lost his meaning in life, do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Dr. Hass said carefully. “Can you give me any more details?”

  Sheriff Parker shrugged. “Well, I’ve tried catnip. I’ve groomed him endlessly, hoping he’ll still feel like he has cat appeal, you know? That’s important for a cat like Thief. I bought this CD of soothing cat noises that I play all the time. Still, nothing.” The sheriff leaned forward. “Dr. Hass, I’m desperate. I want my cat back. Can you help him?”

  Dr. Hass tried to smile reassuringly. Yes, he could help. But the problem wasn’t with the cat. And breaking the news to this kind of fellow was going to take some finesse. “Sheriff Parker, I can help your cat. But you’re going to have to follow my instructions without fault.”

  The sheriff’s eyes grew round. Thief was unimpressed and had fallen asleep in the chair.

  “I am going to write down five things you must do, and if you do these things, you will see Thief return to his old self.”

  The sheriff grinned, thanking him profusely as Dr. Hass wrote down these things on a piece of paper. He folded it and handed it to the sheriff. “Now, don’t share this plan with the cat. Simply do what is on this list, and you will find Thief back to his normal self.”

  The sheriff nodded eagerly, scooped the cat up, and pumped Dr. Hass’s hand as if he were a well of endless knowledge. “Thank you! Thank you, Dr. Hass!”

  “You’re very welcome,” Dr. Hass said, escorting them to the door. Watching them leave, he could only shake his head. The cat wasn’t depressed. He was spoiled.

  CHAPTER 20

  “WAIT!”

  “Ainsley!” her friend Marlee complained. “Do you want to do this or not?”

  Ainsley twisted her long locks around her fingers. “I don’t know.”

  Marlee set down the scissors and came around to sit in front of Ainsley. “Honey, you’re white as a ghost. I think you’d better think about this.”

  Ainsley shook her head. “If I think about it, I won’t do it.” Ainsley held up the mirror and gazed at her reflection. She’d had long hair her whole life. She couldn’t even imagine what she would look like otherwise.

  “Alfred said it would make me look a little older, a little more sophisticated.”

  “Why do you trust this Alfred guy?” Marlee asked.

  Ainsley set the mirror down. “He’s going to make big things happen for me.”

  Marlee smiled at her friend. “Honey, big things already are happening for you. You’re marrying a handsome millionaire that thinks you hung the stars. Isn’t that everything you ever wanted?”

  “Yeah, but I never dreamed I could have this, Marlee. This is going to change my life. I’m going to be somebody. Not just Sheriff Parker’s daughter. Or my mom’s spitting image. I’m going to be recognized for being my own person.”

  Marlee stood and grabbed her scissors. “I always knew you’d be bigger than this town,” she said. “So what are you thinking? Short bob? Layered?”

  Ainsley’s skin went clammy. Marlee had been to beauty school a while back but was fired from a local salon when she burned a lady’s hair off while attempting to give her what she’d deemed the Perm for Life. Apparently, Marlee found out, you can’t double the solution in order to get a firmer curl.

  But she’d let Marlee trim her hair here and there, and others still had her cut their hair. Marlee had always had a sense of style.

  “I don’t know,” Ainsley admitted with a long sigh. “I don’t even know what look is up-to-date.”

  Marlee’s fingers were tangling through her hair. “Do you trust me then?”

  Ainsley closed her eyes. Open heart surgery might be less nerve-racking. “Okay … cut it.”

  After a brief assessment of her facial shape, her forehead, and her ears, Marlee made the first cut. Then gasped. “Oh … no …”

  “Marlee! What!”

  A chuckle was followed by, “Just kidding. I thought we’d get that out of the way.”

  Ainsley groaned. “Very funny.”

  But with each snip of the scissors, Ainsley couldn’t decide whether the anxious feeling inside her was excitement or dread. Reinventing oneself was certainly exhilarating. But she’d stared into the same face with the same hair for years. Who would she be staring at now? “Not too short,” she said.

  “Trust me,” Marlee said authoritatively, sounding like a sculptor attending to her clay.

  After what seemed like hours, but was only thirty minutes, Marlee announced she was done. Pumping the hairspray bottle overhead, she then held up the mirror for Ainsley to see.

  “Ah!”

  “Do you like it?” Marlee smoothed her own hair repetitively.

  Ainsley’s eyes could not grow any bigger. She threw the mirror down and ran into Marlee’s bathroom. Marlee ran after her.

  “You hate it!” Marlee’s eyes filled with tears.

  So did Ainsley’s. But she didn’t hate it. She loved it. Marlee had cut it two inches above the shoulders, layered it a little so it flipped up slightly on the ends, and then cut a few wispy bangs. Ainsley had come looking like a girl ready for womanhood. Now, for the first time in her life, she looked like a woman. A real woman. A beautiful woman. She turned and hugged Marlee. “It’s perfect!”

  “Really? You really like it? You’re not just saying that?”

  “Marlee, it’s stunning. I look like a model!”

  Marlee jumped to her side and turned her back toward the mirror. “You can still play around with it and wear it in different styles. You can tuck it behind your ears, wear it in an updo, pull it into a low ponytail. There are tons of options.”

  “Thank you,” Ainsley said, squeezing her friend’s hand, unable to take her eyes off the image in front of her.


  “Wolfe is going to love it,” Marlee beamed.

  “Wolfe!” Ainsley gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ainsley’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t even think about Wolfe!”

  “What about him?”

  “He loves my hair long.”

  “Ainsley, it’s your hair. You can do with it what you want. Besides, it’s not his head that has to carry around an extra pound of hair, which is surely what I cut off today!”

  Ainsley swallowed and turned back to the mirror. She prayed Wolfe’s day had been good.

  A pounding headache had led Wolfe to grab some coffee on his way home. He’d never been fired from a job in his entire life. Admittedly, the feeling was somewhere between relief and remorse. He hated how angry Oliver was at him, but he was probably only a few days away from quitting anyway. Now he didn’t feel like diving into his honeymoon project either. All he wanted to do was find some quiet.

  As he left the deli with his coffee, he noticed a horde of people walking to the community center. Curiosity brought him in stride with them. Walking in, he asked the lady next to him what was going on.

  “Some town meeting,” she said. “Probably about feeding the cats. But I swear if you don’t feed ’em, they sit outside your house and meow until the cows come home.” She lowered her voice. “Rumor has it that the owl was brought in to get rid of the cat problem, if you know what I mean.” She didn’t wait for Wolfe to nod. “Owls eat cats. On the food chain, I mean. Some owls do. The big ones anyway.” A hunkering smile revealed this woman might just like to see that happen. “You seen the owl?”

  Wolfe nodded.

  “Yeah. Kind of weird. Lotsa weird things been happening around here. You seen the people?”

  “People?”

  “You haven’t noticed them? My lands! They walk around here, real scared looking, kind of like ghosts. And sometimes you’ll hear this scream—it’ll freeze your blood.” She smiled mildly at him.” ’Course, I suppose you’re used to that sort of thing.”