The trees had shed most of their leaves, helped by the strong wind I felt pushing at my SUV as I drove to the cat breeder’s place.
I’d texted Max on my cell phone and told him what was going on. Lately we’d developed the habit of text messaging on our phones rather than calling. I enjoyed the new technology. Plus, if he was in a meeting, he could still subtly check his message and even answer me—unlike a ringing phone.
Sammie and I stopped briefly at the local Gas ’n’ Go to get some juice for her and to satisfy my addiction, an ice-cold, bubbly Mountain Dew from the fountain. After that, I continued on to Hayley Whitmore’s house. In the backseat, Sammie babbled about cats and school. Fortunately, her presence kept Chris entertained.
“Mommy, look!” Sammie squirmed in the seat and pointed at a farm we were passing.
A big sign loomed in the field, advertising a cornfield maze. We’d done the maze the last couple of years and enjoyed it.
“Can we go?” she asked.
“We’ll talk to Daddy tonight,” I said. “I’m sure we can.”
Hayley’s house was near the Cunningham estate. The Cunninghams had moved to this neighborhood when Max was a teenager. . . . Well, this wasn’t a neighborhood like the typical suburban sprawl. Instead, large houses were planted tastefully on acres of carefully manicured land. It was beautiful.
Despite my irritation with Ma for going behind my back to set up house-hunting help, it was true that we were considering a new home. Our present home still seemed crowded with the addition of a very active baby, even though my oldest stepson, Tommy, was away at college. My in-laws wanted me and Max to buy property out here, build a home, and be near them. I figured it wasn’t because my mother-in-law particularly wanted me nearer to her, but it was more likely that she wanted to make sure the children were raised correctly. More of her influence and less of mine.
I knew Max would like being nearer to his father. He sounded a little nostalgic when he mentioned houses and land for sale in this neighborhood. I tried to act interested, but I couldn’t imagine living here. In addition to being closer to my in-laws, living here would mean being farther from my parents and everything I’d known my whole life. Besides, I wouldn’t fit in. I was a farm girl. A redneck through and through. Despite the fact that I married a man with money, my clothes still usually came from the racks in Wal-Mart. There was no way I would join the country club and meet the girls twice a week. I hated tennis and golf.
Still. . .was I being selfish?
I found Hayley’s place easily because the shiny brass street numbers glowed on an ornate black mailbox. I followed the curved, tree-lined driveway, calculating in my head how much the asphalt had cost. After I rounded a final bend, I saw the house, and my breath caught in my throat. Built in the style of a southern mansion with tall white pillars gracing the front, the building glowed in the setting sun. I felt like donning a Civil War–style gown and crying, Tara! Home. I’ll go home.
I parked in the circular driveway, half expecting servants to run from the house to help us from the SUV. Then I turned to Sammie, who was eagerly undoing her seat belt. “Honey, don’t pick up anything in the house and put it in your pocket, okay?”
“I know, Mommy.” I could hear the sigh in her answer. She jumped from the car, coat flapping around her legs, more excited than I’d seen her in a long time. As much as I hated to think it, perhaps Angelica had been partially right. Sammie needed a distraction. A new addition to a family, especially one as demanding as Chris, was hard on everyone. And sometimes the kids who are the quietest get lost in the process.
While she ran over to the flower bed full of lovely mums and other fall plantings, I took Chris from his car seat and balanced him on my hip. He started yanking on my hair, messing up the already frizzy blond curls.
When our motley crew was assembled on the massive veranda, I rang the bell and didn’t have to wait long. A petite girl, about my height, answered. For a moment, I thought she was a teenager, then I realized this was Hayley. I was surprised by her youth. I had expected she would be older since she was friends with my mother-in-law. Hayley wore a pair of jeans and a black sweater set with pretty gold buttons. I’m small, but I’d gained way too much weight when I was pregnant with Chris—and I still hadn’t lost it all. She made me feel frowsy.
“Hayley?” I asked.
“You must be Trish.” She looked me up and down and then smiled. The smile was genuine and reached her eyes with warmth that surprised me. “It’s nice to meet someone as short as I am. Come on in.”
We stepped into the marble-floored foyer. She took our coats and draped them on an antique umbrella stand, and we followed her into a central main hallway. The mellow oak floors looked like refurbished antique wood. Two rooms extended from the hall; one looked like a music room complete with a grand piano. The other was a living room.
Chris babbled, motioning with his arms that he wanted to get down. I jiggled him up and down.
“This is Chris, and this is Sammie.” I pressed my free hand on Sammie’s head, trying to send a mental message to behave and be good. I needn’t have worried. Sammie beamed up at Hayley.
“Thank you for the kitty,” she said.
I couldn’t have scripted it better myself.
“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetie. Your grandmother has already told me all about you. She just loves her grandchildren so much.” Hayley glanced at me. “Your in-laws have been over here to dinner recently. We’ve really hit it off.”
I felt a twinge of guilt. Angelica wanted to see the kids more often. I just couldn’t stand her attitude toward me. But was I depriving my kids of something they really should have just because I didn’t want to deal with her? My mother was just as judgmental of me in her own way, yet our family spent a lot of time at her house.
Hayley took Sammie’s hand. “Let’s go to the back where you can play with the kittens and decide which one you want.”
She motioned for me to follow her.
Two whitish-gray cats with dark-tipped ears, feet, and tails slipped from the living room and dashed in front of me. I noticed a third sitting on top of a bookshelf in the hallway, tail twitching as it watched me walk past. I began to feel like eyes were staring at me from the walls. All my good feelings about doing this for Sammie slipped away, and I wondered if I should have said no. Cats were sneaky. Cats were sly. Cats were. . .
A horrid wail came from somewhere in the house. I skidded to a stop. It sounded like a baby with hormone issues.
“What is that?” I asked.
Hayley looked around at me then up and down the hall. “I think that was Mr. Chang Lee.”
“Mr. Chang Lee?” I pictured a Chinese cook suffering an acute case of appendicitis.
“Yes. My retired champion Siamese. He’s the first cat I ever bought. I guess he got out of his room. He’s an escape artist.”
“Is he sick?”
She stared at me with raised brows. “Sick?”
“He sounds like he’s dying.”
She laughed. “Heavens, no. That’s just the way Siamese cats talk.”
My stomach clenched. “Do they all sound like that?”
“To one degree or another. Some are more vocal than others.” She laughed again. “Listen, watch yourself. Mr. Lee doesn’t like most adults except me. He’s cool with kids, though, which is kind of weird.”
Nervous, I glanced around. “What will he do?”
“Sometimes he attacks people’s legs. He’s gotten my husband, Leighton, several times, but they’ve learned to avoid each other. I try to keep Mr. Lee locked up when strangers are here.”
Sammie giggled. I wasn’t amused. While she chatted with Hayley, I was on the lookout for an attack cat. Then I glanced up at the cat on the bookshelf. Would it leap down on my head as I walked by? It opened its mouth and yowled.
The noises of the cats rattled my brain. Strange for someone who easily tuned out the complaining of an almost-toddler. What if the kitten Sam
mie picked out was the most vocal of the litter?
I felt something bump up against my leg. I jumped back and looked down into the bluest cat eyes I’d ever seen. The animal had materialized out of nowhere. It looked up at me, opened its mouth, and wailed.
Hayley turned. “Ah, there he is. Mr. Lee.” She paused and stared speculatively at me. “Wow, Trish. You’re special. He likes you. I’ve never known that to happen before.” She leaned down and scratched his head. “Oh, my wittle kitty,” she murmured. “You mama’s baby boy, honey bunny?”
I thought I might be sick. Mr. Lee purred.
“Kitty’s messy wessy,” Hayley said and then straightened and looked at me. “Mr. Lee tends to spread cat litter all over. I’m not sure why. It annoys my husband.”
It would annoy me, too. Mr. Lee began rubbing his face on my ankles. There was indeed cat litter on the floor.
Great. I hoped our new cat didn’t have the same habit. I gently tried to shove him away with my foot, but he stuck like glue, and I was afraid to push the issue, given what Hayley said about his attack tendencies. “Being liked isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I mumbled at her.
Hayley laughed. “Oh, wow. You really are funny. Angelica tells me that all the time. Now I understand what she means.” She looked down at Sammie. “Okay, now let’s go pick out your kitten.”
I didn’t think Hayley had the right idea about what my mother-in-law meant when she said I was funny, but I wasn’t going to explain.
“Angelica is one of the nicest people I know,” Hayley said over her shoulder. “She’s been good to me. We play tennis regularly. It’s just like her to do something sweet like buy a kitten for Sammie.”
I wanted to ask her if she had the right Angelica. But she did, of course. Hayley was the kind of woman my mother-in-law had wanted Max to marry. The kind of woman he was married to the first time around. When he married me, Angelica wasn’t happy and had always let me know I wasn’t quite good enough, thus leading to our present impasse.
On my truly honest days, I admitted to myself that though Angelica’s attitude bothered me, I did crave a better relationship with her, but I was clueless as to how to go about getting it.
The cat kept wrapping himself between my feet, and I was having trouble walking.
“Cacacacaca,” Chris said, staring at the cat and beating in rhythm with his heel on my leg.
“He’s adorable,” Hayley said. “I really want children. . . but. . .anyway, maybe someday.”
She sounded so wistful that I couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t had any.
We finally reached the back of the house and entered what might have been a family room or a great room— emphasis on “great.” Mr. Lee was still pasted to my ankles, but I was momentarily distracted from his attentions by the floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors that covered the wall in front of me. Doors framed by long, striped, sateen curtains led outside to a pool. Well, pool is too mundane a word to describe what I saw. This was an artistic creation. Abstract shape, rocks, a waterfall, and a Jacuzzi. I was wowed.
“Mommy, look!” Sammie squealed. “What a pretty pond.”
“Swimming pool,” I murmured.
Chris squirmed in my arms. “Down,” he said firmly, using one of five words he says very clearly.
“No,” I told him with an equally firm tone. That was one of his other words, and he learned it from me.
“But it’s got rocks,” Sammie said. “How can it be a pool?”
“That’s part of the decorating.” Hayley was staring out the windows. “We just had that put in.”
“It’s beautiful.” As Chris squirmed in my arms, I thought how nice it would be to have a Jacuzzi to relax in and a pool for the kids.
“I’ve always wanted one,” Hayley said. She pointed to a stack of shiny house-decorating magazines and books sitting next to a leaded-glass vase filled with red roses on a glass and iron coffee table. “Leighton did it for me. I wanted to landscape around the pool. See?” She picked up a heavy book, the front of which was illustrated with a pool very similar to hers, surrounded by a garden that would take at least some kind of part-time help to maintain. “Isn’t it great? I bought this book last weekend to show Leighton what I want to do with the landscaping.” Her eyes moved from the pool back to me. “I hope we don’t have to move. Anyway, the kittens are in the laundry room.”
Chris whimpered in frustration, and I jiggled him up and down on my hip as I followed her. Then I noticed the spectacular fireplace, lined with bookcases on both sides, filled mostly with the latest fiction.
A single picture graced the mantel. I went over to look more closely, trying not to step on Mr. Lee, who was no longer wrapped around my ankles but still hanging close by.
“Your wedding?” I pointed at a picture of Hayley in a gown next to a man who looked to be thirty years her senior.
“Yes. That’s Leighton.” She picked up the picture.
“Did you get married outside?”
“Yes.” She set down the photo. “At a botanical garden. We haven’t been married long.”
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“New York City.”
In the picture, Hayley was smiling and holding on to Leighton’s hand.
“Your wedding gown was amazing,” I said. “My best friend is getting married in a little more than two weeks.”
“Really? How exciting. To be in love and have the whole world in front of you.” Hayley’s eyes sparkled for a moment. Then her gaze became unfocused, and she chewed her bottom lip. Finally, she blinked and stared clearly at me. “Does she live around here?”
I nodded. “Yes. Her name is Abbie Grenville.”
“Do you mean that author person?”
“That’s the one.”
“Mommy, can we see the kittens now, please?” Sammie whispered.
Poor thing. She was trying so hard to behave even though she was nearly vibrating in her excitement.
“Oh sure, honey,” Hayley said, taking her hand again. “We’ll look at them right now.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “I think I saw your friend this weekend at the fall festival.”
“Yes, she had a book signing there. I was there early, helping her set up.”
“We were there right around lunch. I was going to look at her book, but Leighton was impatient to leave. He has to eat at regular times. And he only eats certain things.”
I followed Hayley through a large gourmet kitchen complete with black granite countertops and cherry cabinets. She opened another door at the far end, revealing a long hallway. I happened to look down at the floor and noticed that Mr. Lee had disappeared.
“I’m getting lost,” Sammie mumbled.
Hayley laughed. I understood. This was a lot of house.
Walking down the hall, we passed a room on the left that looked to be a man’s study, traditionally decorated in hunter green. Sunlight streamed in through large leaded windows. Two walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Several display cabinets filled with guns lined a third wall.
“Your husband’s office?”
“Yes,” Hayley said.
“Does your husband hunt?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s even been on safaris.” Hayley gave an exaggerated shiver.
I wasn’t paying much attention to her. All I could think about was how Max would love a study like this.
“Ggggg.” Chris bobbed up and down in my arms, pointing with his chubby finger. I realized he was telling me that Hayley and Sammie were walking away. I hurried after them as they turned into a room on the right, a large laundry room.
The room was amazing. A woman’s dream. Wallpaper with climbing vines decorated the walls. A top-of-the-line washer and dryer were surrounded by built-in shelves and cupboards. There was even a phone/intercom system on the wall. A silky-looking Siamese cat perched on the edge of the dryer next to an open box containing several of Jaylene’s Kitty Kollers. The cardboard looked like it had been ca
ught in a tape explosion. Jaylene must have been in a frenzy the day she mailed that one out.
Sammie was squatting on the floor next to a terry-lined basket that held five kittens. “Mommy, look,” she said.
I had to admit the almost-all-white kittens were adorable.
“Cacacacaca,” Chris yelled in my ear as he tried to throw himself from my arms onto the floor. I’d probably be diagnosed with child-induced hearing loss later in life.
“Will the kittens stay white?” I gasped as I tried to hang on to my hefty son.
“No. They’ll start developing gray points soon.” Hayley knelt next to Sammie, gently explaining things to her.
I glanced at the rapt expression on my daughter’s face and knew absolutely that I’d made the right decision despite my own doubts.
Hayley stood to let Sammie decide which kitten she wanted.
“Does your husband help you with the cats?” I asked
“Yes. . . .” Hayley said, speaking loudly over Chris’s protests. “Well, he did. Right now he’s awfully busy. He’s thinking about a couple of job offers. But he’s promised he’ll help me again.”
I thought Hayley seemed a little defensive in telling me so much, and I wondered if things were as good as she claimed.
“Caaaa,” Chris wailed, pointing at the kittens with his fist.
I jiggled him harder, and as his cries wavered back and forth from loud to louder, I encouraged Sammie to hurry. She finally decided. How, I’ll never know, because they all looked alike to me.
Hayley complimented Sammie on her choice and put a tiny blue ribbon around the kitten’s neck. Then we followed her back through the house, twisting and turning our way to the front door.
There Mr. Lee materialized as if by magic and was once again glued to my foot. Hayley noticed and smiled. “You should feel privileged, Trish. I’ve never known him to do that with a stranger.”
I stared down at the cat, trying to communicate my desire for him to leave me alone. My mother taught me that getting up close and personal with someone I don’t know without an invitation is bad manners.
Kitty Litter Killer Page 3
