by Mary Bowers
“You saved quite a few quiet little dinners tonight,” I commented. “Well done.”
“They are exceptionally busy for a Tuesday night: usually it’s the quietest night of the week for restaurants,” Doc said.
I nodded. “Everybody wants to try the new place. Things will settle down in a few weeks, but I don’t think they’ll come to a screeching halt. This is an excellent restaurant; just what Tropical Breeze needed.”
Dr. Fleming looked at the vaguely British-looking façade of Thirty-Nine. Big mullioned bay windows had been set on either side of the entrance door, with low flower boxes full of red geraniums, and all the wooden trim had been painted black against white-plastered walls.
“Yes, indeed,” Doc said, almost with pride, as if he owned the place. “Just what the town needed. I’ve been here all my life, and I’ve only seen progress. We’re not a country town anymore, but somehow, we never get too big for our britches. A nice dinner place like this is just what we needed.”
“I think it’s going to do very well,” Michael said, and with that, conversation dried up.
“Well, thanks again,” I said in parting. “Everybody was so relieved when you stepped in.”
“Poor Tina,” Doc said. “Yes. Not like her to drink like that. I don’t like to see it. Not in my town.”
The men shook hands again, I gave Doc a little hug, which pleased and embarrassed him a bit, and as we walked away, we could hear him starting his car and pulling away from the curb.
Halfway down the block, we passed Graeme and Diana walking toward Thirty-Nine. For once, they weren’t fighting. In fact, they seemed happy, and Graeme commented that it was a nice night. I hoped they’d stay happy, at least through dinner. The restaurant had had enough drama for one night.
Chapter 21
Sheena had her first day at Girlfriend’s the next day, and when I got up that day, I decided to drop in and see how she was doing. Florence had been just fine with it, but she only knew Sheena as a cute little volunteer who occasionally came by. Working side-by-side, day after day would be different.
Basket was coming with me. She didn’t need to stare at me, yowl at me or turn the world green; I just knew. I needed to do some running around town after checking in at Girlfriend’s, but that would be okay. I could leave her with Florence. During all this time, I had never even considered leaving her at the shelter while I was away from home. She didn’t want to be there. Again, I just knew.
When I brought her into Girlfriend’s, Florence was happy to see her. She came up and tickled the cat’s chin, but Wicked kept his distance and stared. After accepting these greetings, Basket took up her favorite position on the picture rail, interested and alert, as if waiting for the next act to begin.
“Hey, Wicked,” I said, giving him a scratch.
Sheena was helping a customer by modeling necklaces at the front counter. She gave me a pretty smile, then stood back and struck a little pose for the customer. Yes, the lady decided, that would be just the kind of long, Roaring Twenties rope of pearls and crystals to go with her crinkle-cotton dress with the ruffles around the hem.
“And how about earrings?” Sheena said.
She was a natural, upping the sale with comments about how hard it was to coordinate jewelry without being too matchy-matchy. “Something in a drop earring,” she said thoughtfully, “something with a little sparkle?”
Sparkle was good, the customer agreed, and they dove into the earring trove like prospectors.
I left her to business and didn’t talk to her until after the customer had left. Then I walked over to the counter and said, “How’s it going so far?”
“This is a blast,” she said with a huge grin. “You’re going to actually pay me for this?”
I smiled. “Alas, I can’t heap the fortune on you that you deserve, but you’ll get some kind of a paycheck for sure.”
“Hot damn.”
“How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?”
“I feel fine,” she said. “I’m not the first woman to have a baby and I won’t be the last. I’m not going to make a fuss.”
I was about to tell her not to be silly when the bell over the front door tinkled and the fabulous Carmen walked in.
Even the cats stared. My God, she was lovely. Not beautiful, not in any classical way, but striking, well-endowed, and very poised, even in a casual sundress and sandals – backless, 4-inch heeled sandals that would have been a broken ankle waiting to happen on me. As she wafted by, I envied her use of foundation lingerie under the little scrap of a bodice that presented her cleavage to the world as a work of art. She gave a cool glance around the shop, returned Sheena’s greeting without looking at her, then began to walk around.
“Looking for anything in particular?” Sheena asked, walking toward her.
Carmen regarded her with a flashing glance, then murmured, “Do you have any designer bags? I collect Vuitton.”
She had pronounced the designer’s name correctly, and I didn’t understand her at first. When I did, I backed away and started rearranging things in the jewelry case. Sheena went forward with a smile and drew her toward our sad heap of leather, snap-closures and fanny packs.
This lady had bucks to spend, but I wasn’t revving up the old cash register just yet.
“Of course, Jordan mentioned this place to me,” she was saying. I couldn’t quite place her hint of an accent, but it was – like the rest of her – lovely. “When I saw it, I had to come in. But, well . . . .”
“Yes,” Sheena said, comprehending and not holding it against her. “Have you been to Sharla’s? Her collection is terrific, and different from anybody else’s. You really have the figure for it. You could wear anything she has.”
Carmen preened, suddenly becoming warm toward the salesgirl who had not previously existed. “Where is it?”
“You can’t miss it. It’s just across the street, about half a block down from Thirty-Nine. You know, the restaurant?” she added shyly. “I saw you there last night. Smashing dress.”
Smashing? God she was good.
“Oh, thank you,” said Carmen, obviously not remembering Sheena from the restaurant. “I don’t usually wear Armani. He’s so everywhere, is he not? But that little one, it does for me somehow, and here in this place, nobody else would wear the same dress. So horrible when that happens!”
Sheena was nodding, and I think she actually cared. Carmen liked her, and started to loosen up. “We’re going back to Miami today, Jordan and I. I just came into the town to get a few things and see this place Girlfriend’s he has talked about. Good name you have. Girlfriend’s. So friendly.”
“It is a friendly place,” Sheena said. “And if you give Tropical Breeze a chance, you’ll find you like it. You can relax here, and the beach is beautiful.”
“Ah, yes. The beach. And also the river. Water all around. Very pretty.”
I could see it the exact moment that she decided to make a pity purchase. She started looking around and pounced on a purple and pink scarf, murmuring something in Spanish or Portuguese or whatever.
“Yes,” she said, “this will do.” She slid it through her fingers in a sensuous way and watched it float through the air.
I rang it up, resisting the urge to overprice it, and shoved it in a plastic “Thank You” bag. Miss Carmen quickly put it out of sight in her bag (Vuitton, of course) and drifted out the door leaving a hint of exotic fragrance behind her.
Florence came up and said, “She smells good, doesn’t she?”
I did not build anything clever on that, but I really could have.
“She’s Jordan’s girl,” I told her.
Sheena made a noise, just a little one, and I cocked an eyebrow at her. She gave that reluctant pause that people do when they’re about to tell you something they know they shouldn’t, then said, “More like Jordan is her boy.”
“Oh, really? Do tell!”
It turned out that some of Jordan’s townie friends were also sti
ll friends of Sheena’s from high school. She had run into one of them, a kid named David, at Perks a few days ago. After the bigger news of Vesta’s death had been thoroughly discussed, talk had turned to Jordan’s party, which David had attended. He remembered Carmen, all right. She’d flirted with him all night long, curving her soft, warm body against his in the sultry southern night and leaving their host glowering and broody.
“It wasn’t just me,” David had told Sheena. “She was touchy-feely with anything in pants – even with some of the girls.” She’d taken another girl onto the pier in the moonlight and danced with her in a way that was still making David sweat.
“And Jordan didn’t like it?”
“Let’s put it this way: He couldn’t do anything about it. Carmen has him by the – you know – by the nostrils.” She glanced at Florence, who was moving Wicked out of the way to throw an afghan across the chair.
“I know what nuts are,” Florence said placidly.
I nearly choked. After I had composed myself again, I told Sheena, “Carmen and Jordan seemed happy enough last night at Thirty-Nine.”
Sheena threw a glance at me that clearly said, “Oh, grow up.”
“Didn’t they?” I asked feebly.
“After the night of the party, they started getting along much, much better.” She walked off to the back room, leaving me to figure it out.
Even Florence had figured it out, and we exchanged glances. She happened to be arranging some of Vesta’s figurines on the little table next to the book, and she picked one up and held it for a moment.
I did my spin around downtown Tropical Breeze after that. I knew that Basket would be calm and well-behaved up in her perch at Girlfriend’s. It seemed to amuse her to watch the humans fooling around with objects that held no meaning or value for cats – or goddesses either, for that matter. She could watch us for hours, the way some people enjoy watching fish swim around in a tank. I hadn’t yet caught her sleeping up there.
Though she wasn’t with me, she had definitely invaded my world. I had that edge-of-the-falls feeling all the time now, waiting for the green mist to drop down in front of my eyes, letting me know that – how had she put it? – “the sights around you will come to me through your eyes.” It was almost a relief when it happened, just because I was always waiting for it. Between times, the pressure seemed to build, and I just tried to push past it.
“Don’s Diner,” I said aloud, halfway down the hot sidewalk on Locust Street. The staff was always in the middle of a live-action, stand-up comedy act, and that would distract me while I grabbed a quick-and-crunchy grilled cheese.
It would’ve been so nice to have lunch with Michael, but I remembered he usually played golf on Wednesday mornings, then lounged around at the clubhouse with the guys, eating, drinking and solving the world’s political problems. Once inside I hopped onto a stool at the counter and did a little back-and-forth with J.B. while I ate, then headed back across the street to Girlfriend’s to pick up my goddess.
Things were running smoothly in the shop, with Sheena and Florence working together as if they’d been doing it for years. I walked in the front door, said hi to the humans and each of the cats, then called for Basket to come down; we were going home.
She just stared at me and wouldn’t move. It was the last thing I expected, and it suddenly hit me that there was nothing I could do if she decided not to come down from the picture rail. She may as well have been sitting on Mars – I couldn’t reach her.
“Has she been down since I left her?” I asked Florence.
Florence stopped what she was doing and came over to me. “No, and she’s not right today.”
“Not right? What do you mean?”
Florence hesitated, thinking, then shrugged hopelessly. I looked over to Sheena.
“Is something wrong with Basket?” I asked her.
Sheena set down a fussy lampshade and said, “She’s restless. I don’t know how she usually acts, but she was fine after you left up until about half an hour ago. Then she suddenly jumped, got wide-eyed and started pacing up and down the picture rail. She’s making me nervous. I’m kinda glad you’re taking her home. She even knocked that little snowscape down a few minutes ago. Is she usually clumsy?”
“No,” I said. “Definitely no.” I gazed up at Basket and she stared back at me with a strange intensity. I knew as if she’d spoken that she was not coming down.
“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Basket, but we gotta go,” I told her. “Come on down from there.”
She glared back and didn’t move, too alive to be a statue, too immobile to be alive. As I considered my options, Myrtle came in the back door. I was so riveted on the cat I didn’t even turn around. I knew it was Myrtle by the sound of her voice.
“Oh, hello Taylor,” she said, forcing me to look at her.
Once I had answered civilly enough to suit her, she turned away and addressed Sheena. “My dear, are you still here? I didn’t realize you were putting in so many hours this week. Really, Florence has all the help she needs, and of course, I volunteer my time, so it doesn’t cost the charity a thing. Money being so tight these days.” Then she gave a dry chuckle, but it didn’t take the edge off her words.
“Sheena’s doing just fine, thank you Myrtle,” Florence said. “She’s being no trouble at all, and is very pleasant to work with.”
The sisters glared at one another.
“Were you planning on putting in a few hours, Myrtle?” I asked. “If so, there are still a few boxes in the back room that were put aside when Vesta’s things came in. Books and old LP records, I think. Want to tackle that?”
No, she didn’t, but she lifted her chin and said, “If that’s what’s needed, of course I’ll do it. I’ve never been one to shy away from hard work, and if all that dust triggers an allergy attack, so be it. I’m here to be useful. And Sheena, dear, since you’re here, I wanted to ask you something, when you have time to talk.”
“I’ve got time now. What’s up, Myrtle?”
“I understand your boyfriend has a truck? Would it be possible for me to hire him to help me for an afternoon?”
“I guess so. What is it you need?”
“Well, I left Cadbury House, um, in a hurry. I hadn’t packed. There are some small pieces of furniture, my own private property that I still need to pick up: Mother’s piecrust table and a small boudoir lamp, and my little escritoire. It’s very small. Nothing else, I think, except for some things I forgot on the top shelf of the closet. I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t have to strain himself, and it would only mean one trip in his nice, big truck.”
Sheena seemed reluctant for some reason, and I remembered the way Diana Huntington had lit into Kevin when we’d been there to pick up the donated items. Still, Sheena was always trying to please everybody, so she got her cell out and called Kevin. He didn’t answer.
“That’s funny,” she said. “He’s not working today. He usually answers. I’ll send him a text.”
While she did that, I got an idea.
“If that’s all you want to get, I could take you,” I said. “I’ve got an SUV; it sounds like your stuff would fit. We could go over there now, if you like. I think Diana should be done with her swim, and if Graeme is there, so much the better. Are you sure it’s okay to go over there?”
“I talked to Mr. Graeme this morning by phone. He said to come over at any time. He offered to bring them to me himself, but his little sports car is too small, and the Mrs. never lets him drive her car.” She sniffed, then went on. “He said he’d bring the things I left behind downstairs to the mud room and leave them there for me. He’s such a kind man, really. He apologized for his wife’s, um, tantrum, and said I could come at any time, whether they were home or not. I still have a house key. I told him I’d leave it under the mat, but he said not to bother. He said I might be coming back to work for them one day.”
Florence lifted a prayer to heaven with her eyes, and I nodded as if I actually believed it cou
ld happen.
“All right, then, let’s go,” I said.
“He may not have had time to bring the things down yet. We only just talked, and I didn’t tell him I was coming today.”
I looked up at Basket, still staring down at us, then looked across the shop to Florence and Sheena. Yep. This was a good time to get the gargoyle out of the shop and give the goddess time to come back to life and get down from the ceiling.
“There’s no time like the present, and he said to come at any time, right? It’s not raining, I’m available, and you’re ready, right? Let’s go.”
“Well, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. It’s very kind of you, I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll come back and pick up my cat,” I said vaguely, looking up at the frozen image of a cat that Basket had become.
Her eyes seemed bigger and her body began to look almost like a disused thing, a stuffed toy that was already gathering dust. But her eyes – they were alive and shining. I could almost see past them into a mind surging with electricity. Then suddenly the fur along her back stood up and I felt chills run sharply down my spine.
I gave a shiver, then turned away and walked out with Myrtle.
“Stupid cat,” I muttered, trying to fool Myrtle, though I couldn’t fool myself.
Chapter 22
It didn’t feel right from the get-go. Myrtle was still fuming at the way she’d been fired, and she sat in the passenger seat the whole way bracing herself for a crash.
I am an excellent driver, even though I do come from Chicago. And we weren’t exactly deep in lively conversation; I couldn’t get a word out of her. After the first block or two, I stopped trying. Also after the first block or two, which got us out of downtown Tropical Breeze, I don’t think we saw more than five cars altogether before we made the turn onto the private drive to Cadbury House. I didn’t have much to distract me from my driving, but she seemed to think she’d stumbled aboard a Kamikaze mission and any second we were going down.
