I said, “Oh I think that’s for me—that’s the vet with Fuzzy. I’ll just go let him in,” and headed for the door. Would it be too much to hope that he came bearing a side order of coffee along with the kitty?
Chapter Nine
I dashed down the hallway and opened the front door. Sure enough, Dr. Meriwether stood on the porch. He was holding a cardboard kitty carrier. No coffee, though.
“Hi Dr. Meriwether, thanks so much for coming by,” I said. “Would you like to come in?”
Meg pushed her way in next to me and gripped the edge of the door, effectively body blocking the entrance. She said, “No.”
“What?”
“Finn, where are your manners? The man’s out making house calls after business hours—he’s obviously busy.” She said to him, “I’m sure you’ve got loads on your plate. We don’t want to be rude and take up any more of your time than necessary.”
Don’t want to be rude? I gaped at her. In what way was this not rude? I turned back to Dr. Meriwether, ready to offer an apology, but he was smirking at Meg. I looked back at Meg who stood perfectly straight, chin up, staring him down.
“Uh,” I said.
Dr. Meriwether broke eye contact first and shifted to look at me. The porch board he was standing on wobbled and let out a groan so loud that for a moment I was worried he was going to fall through. He took a careful step back off the complaining plank and said, “It’s okay, Finn. Thanks for the invitation, but she’s right, I’ve got to get going.” He slid his gaze to Meg. “Maybe another time, though.”
Well, since he wasn’t coming in, I decided to step out onto the porch, which fortunately held steady under my feet. Meg took my place in the doorway, closing the door slightly so she filled the entire space.
Dr. Meriwether and I wandered over to the porch stairs, where he handed me Fuzzy, who stuck a paw through one of the holes in the carrier to try to bat at me. I poked a finger into his carrier, and he nuzzled it.
“Um, thanks again for coming by to drop him off. I really appreciate it,” I said. I lowered my voice and said, “I hope you don’t think we’re being rude. Meg’s, uh…” a total weirdo control freak “just trying to be, um…polite…”
“No problem,” he said, and from the grin on his face, it looked he meant it. Maybe Meg’s antisocial behavior was the norm and that was why people around here didn’t like the Fosters. Well, at least he found it amusing—he certainly seemed more unfazed than I was.
We started walking to his car, and Dr. Meriwether pointed to Fuzzy. “So, we tried him on some food, and I’m sorry to tell you that, while he’ll eat some wet food, he’s going to need bottle supplementation. He just inhaled a whole bottle, so he should be good to go for a while.”
“Okay. I know the drill.”
“I figured you did. And you’re good with diarrhea?”
“Is this a trick question?”
He laughed. “Just in case he has any issues, I left you some instructions in the bag I gave you earlier.”
I sighed. “Great. I’ll deal.”
“I’ll be back on Monday, and we’ll talk then.” He looked at Meg over my shoulder and gave her a little salute, calling, “Bye, Meg.” He gave me a little wave, looked like he was about to say something, then just shook his head and said, “Have fun, Finn,” and left.
As he drove off, I walked over to Babs to retrieve the bag of vet supplies. I patted Babs with longing. I had the strongest urge to put Fuzzy in the back, hop in, and drive away. But then I’d be the one being rude, not to mention that my clothes were upstairs. And hadn’t I just promised Meg that I’d stay the whole weekend? Fine, but that didn’t mean I was going to be meekly following Meg’s every command like I did as a kid. With the bag in one hand and Fuzzy in the other, I strode back to the house.
As I approached, Meg stepped out of my way and then closed the door behind me. I set Fuzzy down carefully on the staircase. He squeaked at me.
“Hey buddy, you doing alright? Just hang on a minute okay?” I said.
I swung around and faced Meg. “What was that? That nice man went out of his way to be helpful, and you didn’t even invite him in for a minute? I get that I’m a guest here and all, but that was…” I sputtered for moment, threw up my hands and said, “Ugh…I don’t even know what that was. I mean, what was that?”
Meg looked amused and shrugged. “Weren’t you listening in the kitchen? This is an old house. We can’t have just anyone traipsing in and out of here. It’s really important to limit foot traffic as much as possible.”
Doug was leaning against the wall, watching with his arms crossed. Nor and Wil were standing in the hallway. I looked to them for some help, but they were nodding along with Meg.
I glared at Meg. “I get that we need to treat the place with respect and care, but it’s not like it’s some kind of cloistered convent or something. I mean, you live here, right?”
“I’m the Foster in residence, yes. There’s always one of us here to be a caretaker to the house.”
My response was interrupted by another knock at the door.
“That’ll be dinner,” Meg said, as she answered the door. Sure enough, a pizza guy stood on the porch.
“Hey Meg,” he said, handing her a receipt and a pen.
“You can put it in the kitchen,” she said.
My mouth dropped open. The pizza guy strolled by me, right on down the hallway to the back of house. Obviously, he’d been here enough times to know where the kitchen was. “So, wait, it’s okay for the pizza guy to come in, but not the vet?”
“That’s different,” Meg said, as she signed the receipt.
“How different?”
Pizza guy came back up the hallway, and Meg gestured at him. “He’s a distant cousin.” He gave me a quick wave, took the receipt, and left.
I shook my head. “I don’t get it. What’s being a cousin have to do with anything?”
“Family is family,” said Meg.
“And?”
“This is a family home, so all Fosters are welcome here. In limited numbers, of course.”
I mulled that over for a second. “Wait, do you mean all Fosters or only Fosters?”
“Both.”
“Oh.” Banjo music started playing in my head. We weren’t in some remote community deep in the Ozarks, so I didn’t understand the isolationism I was seeing.
It was becoming increasingly clear to me why my mom had avoided this part of the family.
A loud meow from Fuzzy saved me from having to respond any further. I picked up his carry case and made some cooing noises.
Turning to Meg and the others, I said, “Um. Yeah. Okay. Well, I’ll just get the kitty settled. Don’t hold dinner on my account. I’ll catch up in a few minutes. C’mon, Fuzzy, let’s go get you comfy.” I escaped up the stairs before Meg said anything else.
Chapter Ten
The stairs didn’t seem quite as vocal this time, maybe because there was just me and Fuzzy. But their muted tones matched my muted enthusiasm, and in my head, they sang “weird, weird, weird, weird” as I trudged upstairs. As soon as I closed the door to my room, I let out a big sigh.
Placing Fuzzy’s carrier on the bed, I opened it to find him peering up at me. My shoulders dropped from around my ears, and I smiled.
“Hello handsome. Don’t you look lovely since your bath.” Without all the mats, his coat was shiny and fluffy, colored a tawny-brown-tinged, grayish tabby with darker gray markings. His chin, belly, and ruff were a grayish white. I could see now that his ears had little tufts at the end, which made me wonder if there was some bobcat in his family tree, despite his long tail.
I stroked his head, and he started purring. “Well, Fuzzy, welcome to crazy town. Don’t get me wrong, the house and property are really pretty, but the people who own it might be a little nuts. Don’t worry, though—I’ll protect you. And, fortunately, neither of us has to stay here that long.”
Fuzzy started batting at my necklace, so I stopped petting him and s
tood back to see what he would do. I wasn’t sure if he’d want to leave his carrier right away or if he’d need to hunker down for a bit.
Fuzzy hopped right out, padded across the bed, and leapt down to the floor. The floorboard hummed a bit when Fuzzy landed, and Fuzzy froze, his head cocked. I thought maybe the noise had scared him, but then he leaned down and nuzzled the floor, scent-marking it with the side of his jaw. Huh. That was a first. I’d seen kitties scent-mark the corners of things, but I’d never seen one go right for the floor. Maybe the vibration and noise from the floorboard reminded him of a purr. Well, whatever fluffed his fur was fine by me.
I took the bag of vet goodies into the bathroom, and Fuzzy followed me in.
“I doubt you’re litterbox trained,” I said to him as I knelt and set up the litterbox, “but let’s see how you do. Just to be clear, you should go to the bathroom here. Not on the floor.” The floor groaned as I stood up. I looked at it and said, “I hear you, pal. On Fuzzy’s behalf, I apologize for any unfortunate incidents that are about to occur. And don’t worry, I’ll fix it, whatever happens.”
Placing a bowl of water for Fuzzy, I told him, “Please try to drink this, rather than licking the faucet. I’ve also got some formula to help out while you get used to eating big boy food, but your next bottle isn’t until later. I’m not going to put out wet food for you just yet until we see how your tummy is doing with your last feeding.”
Fuzzy explored the bathroom. He jumped up on the toilet seat—I made a note to myself to keep it closed—and then he leapt up on the sink. He headbutted me to remind me it’d been a whole five minutes since I’d petted him. I laughed and obliged by scritching him under the chin, then went and let the water out of the tub so he wouldn’t try drinking it. I looked at my poor clothes. I didn’t have many outfits, so I was really hoping they were salvageable. Soaking my clothes had helped the smell, and hopefully they wouldn’t stink up the place while I went to eat.
Grabbing a clean towel, I made Fuzzy a little bed on the floor. “There you go. In case you want to nap.”
I wiggled the towel to get Fuzzy to look at it, and he took a flying leap and attacked it. The floor let out a squeak when Fuzzy pounced, which just encouraged him to scoot back and pounce again. I spent a few minutes giggling as I watched the scoot-pounce-squeak sequence. Given that the floor was behaving like a giant squeaky toy, I felt pretty sure it’d keep him entertained for a while.
After stalling as long as I could, I said, “I’ve got to go for a bit.” Fuzzy stopped playing to look at me. “You hang out in here while I’m gone. Don’t look at me like that. I’m thinking you’ve got the better deal here. Sure, I get pizza, but it comes with people who might be wackadoodles—I’ll introduce you later, and you can see for yourself. Anyway, I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, and I’ll bring you a bottle.” I looked around at all the wood. “Uh, hey, do me a favor. Don’t use this place as one big scratching post, okay?” As I shifted my weight to leave, the floor underneath me let out a sigh, and I whispered “Good luck” and scooted out, shutting the door behind me.
I listened for signs of distress, but all was quiet on the other side. Then, I heard a thud and a squeak as Fuzzy started playing again.
Well, he was fine. That meant it was time to go for dinner. My stomach growled again. At least there’d be food, and I could try and find the coffee so I’d know if I needed to go find a coffee shop first thing in the morning. I put the kitten-formula canister and a bottle in my messenger bag and headed downstairs.
Chapter Eleven
As I started down the back stairs to the kitchen, I heard muffled voices and what sounded like heated whispering. But then the stairs announced my approach, and the voices hushed further. By the time I walked into the kitchen, no one was saying anything. From the flush on Nor’s face, the stiffness of Wil’s shoulders, and the grim set of Meg’s mouth, I was pretty sure I’d interrupted a fight. Doug was the only one who looked amused, which pretty much confirmed my suspicion. He was Doug—if there’d been an argument, it was likely he’d been enjoying the fireworks.
I cleared my throat. “Hey guys, sorry to interrupt,” I said.
“You’re not interrupting,” said Meg. “Help yourself to some pizza. How’s the kitten?”
As I wandered to the counter where the pizza waited, I said, “Fuzzy’s good, actually. Settling right in. I’ve got him stashed in the bathroom for the moment. Plates?”
Meg said, “In the cupboard.”
I looked at the host of cupboards and tried to guess which one she was referring to. The one all the way to my left drifted open just slightly, like someone had recently closed it, and it hadn’t shut properly. I walked over and tried that one first. Score! I grabbed a plate, snagged my pizza, and turned to face the others.
They were all staring at me.
Meg gave me a big smile. She was showing so many teeth that I was caught between wanting to back away slowly and wanting to ask her how she kept them so white.
It took me a moment, but I suddenly realized they were all staring because they were politely waiting for me to join them. “Oh, jeez, sorry, don’t wait on me! Please keep eating,” I said, and I hurried over to the table.
Meg was sitting at the head of the table with Nor and Wil on either side of her. Doug was at the foot. I grabbed the closest empty seat, which was next to Wil.
Hanging my messenger bag over the back of the chair, I sat down, and said, “So what did I miss?” and began inhaling my dinner.
Meg smiled. “We were just having a spirited discussion about one of our Foster family traditions. Wil here is quite the family history buff, so he’s full of all sorts of fascinating information.” She smiled at Wil. “You know, you really should consider joining the family council—” she looked at me “—that’s our little historical society I was telling you about.” She looked back at Wil. “In fact, I’d be happy to put in a good word for you at the end of the weekend.”
From Nor’s raised eyebrows, I took it that Meg’s offer was kind of a big deal.
Wil seemed overwhelmed, fiddling with his glasses while he said, “Thanks.”
Meg turned to me. “Speaking of which, Finn, I just realized you don’t know that one of the benefits of the reunion is that you get to meet with one of the members of the historical society,” Meg said.
Doug snorted.
Meg shot a look at Doug, then said to me, “To keep up with this big clan of ours, the council tries to meet as many branches of the family tree as they can. It’s nice to have a face to go with a name, to make a personal connection.”
As he shoveled a slice of pizza into his mouth, Doug said, “Nice for them.”
Meg folded her hands. “I’ll concede that their…inquisitiveness—”
Doug said, “Nosiness.”
“—can feel a bit like an interrogation.”
Doug snorted again.
“In their defense, they’re just really into their jobs,” said Wil.
“So they can be a bit overenthusiastic,” added Meg. “It’s actually kind of sweet that they’re so interested. And besides, you want to meet more of the family, don’t you Finn?”
My mouth was full so I just nodded.
Nor looked like she was going to add something, but a look from Meg had her taking another bite of pizza instead. I was guessing she was like Doug and wasn’t into the whole genealogy thing. While I had some curiosity about the Fosters, I’d never been into genealogy either. I had no idea what I could possibly have to say that would interest these historical council people, but I had come here to meet family members, so the more the merrier. And maybe I could gently broach the whole “keeping tabs on my family” topic and see if it was as stalkery as it sounded.
I was about to ask Meg for more info, but got waylaid by the pepperoni lodged in my throat. Looking around the table, I saw that everyone was drinking iced tea or water. Aw jeez. At least a beer or a little wine might’ve loosened things up a bit.
“Mind if I grab some iced tea?” I said.
“Help yourself,” Meg said. As I walked over to the cupboards, she said, “Glasses are in the cabinet next to the plates…So, Nor, tell us a bit about your work.”
As Nor described life as a lawyer specializing in international corporate law, I grabbed a glass and located the iced tea in the fridge. My stomach did a sigh of relief when I saw the fridge was crammed with food. Well, I might go into coffee withdrawal, but at least I wouldn’t starve this weekend.
Since I was up, I slipped into diner mode and walked around offering to refill everyone’s glasses while Nor talked.
When she paused for a breath, I asked, “Anyone want more pizza?” As Nor finished giving us an overview of her globe-trotting adventures negotiating high-stakes deals, I dished out slices, then returned to my seat.
“Well aren’t you handy,” Meg said to me.
I smiled. “Force of habit.”
“Oh?” Nor said. “What do you do?”
“Well, I used to work in a diner. Now, I’m going to school!” I did a little victory wiggle in my chair. “I’m doing a year at sea. At least a year. But a year for starters. I’m getting an oceanography degree! I ship out next week and I. Can’t. Waaaaaait.” I sang the “wait.”
Nor furrowed her brows a bit. “That’s a bold choice.”
I shrugged. “Not really. I had to postpone college for a bit, but we, my parents and I, had planned on me going. And actually, I think being a few years older than the average college student will come in handy.”
Doug said, “Don’t you live in the desert? Have you ever even been to the ocean?”
“I did, and nope, not yet.”
He laughed. “Awesome. Fearless Finn. You’re not even a little worried you might not like it, are you?”
“Nah. It’s the sea. Who doesn’t love the ocean?”
Meg said, “Me. Too much sand, the humidity and wind mess with my hair. And, it smells. Like fish.” She shuddered.
A House for Keeping Page 5
