I smiled back. “It’s my pleasure.” I waved a hand around the store. “I’ve been taking inventory. I wanted to open next week, but I doubt I’ll be ready much before the end of the month. As you can see, there’s still a lot of work to be done. I have to restock a lot of items, and, of course, get some pets in here.”
Rita nodded. “Of course. Tillie did let things slack off a bit those last few months. I guess we should have been quicker to take that as a sign something was wrong. Your aunt never slacked off. Never.”
We were all silent for a few seconds, and then the man reached out and took my hand. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Shell McMillan. I’m Ron Webb. Webb’s Florists. My store is right next door to Rita’s.” He grinned. “Sure comes in handy during the slow hours when I need a cup of java or a fresh-baked scone to pick me up.”
The brunette reached up to brush a strand of hair from her glasses. I noted the blue polish on her fingernails had added glitter. “And I’m Olivia Niven,” she said. “My claim to fame is running the dance academy on Main Street.” She wrinkled her nose at me and looked pointedly at my feet. “Do you dance, Shell?”
“Not very well. I turned down Dancing on Air because I have two left feet. My co-star, Gary Presser, was on last season, though. He came in second.”
“I know. I voted for him. He got robbed.” Olivia looked me up and down. “I bet I could make a passable dancer out of you.” She laughed and flicked her hand dismissively. “If I can train the Boswell twins to win last year’s annual competition, I can train anyone.”
“That’s true.” Rita’s red hair swayed to and fro as she nodded. “Talk about left feet, those girls had ’em, and now, well, you should see them foxtrot.”
Olivia shot me a mischievous grin. “Come by the studio. My girls will be thrilled to meet you. The boys even more so. They were all big Spy Anyone fans.” She shifted the basket to her other hand and whipped off the sunglasses, and I saw her eyes were indeed the same color as the hair, maybe even a shade darker. “So.” She reached out to tap the top of the basket. “We just came over to give you this small token to welcome you to the shop community, and to offer any help you might need.”
Rita gave Olivia a small nudge, and the younger woman held out the basket to me. Through the cellophane I saw cookies, cakes, an assortment of gourmet teas and coffees, and a small plant.
“Some treats Rita, Ron, and I put together,” Olivia said, with a sidelong glance at her companions. “To be honest, it was mostly Rita. Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” I had to grip the basket hard. It was really loaded down. “This was very nice of you.”
Rita waved her hand carelessly. “Oh, don’t mention it, sweetie. We all loved your aunt, and this store is one of the most popular in Fox Hollow. When the tour buses come through, they always make a stop here. Nothing people like better than to take a little souvenir home to their pets. Oh, and you might want to give Kathleen Power a call. She knits the most darling doggie and kitty sweaters and booties. Your aunt used to sell them for her all the time, on consignment.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” I smiled. “I hope I can live up to my aunt’s reputation.”
“I’m sure you will, dear.” Rita hesitated and then added, “I have to say, we were all surprised when we heard that you would be moving here and taking over the store.”
“Oh, don’t be so coy, Rita,” Olivia cut in. She turned to me. “We were shocked. After all, Fox Hollow’s no Hollywood.”
I nodded. “Thank God for that.”
Now that her arms were free, Olivia crossed them over her well-endowed chest. “So, you’re really planning on staying and making a go of this? Or is this just a pit stop before your next series?”
It seemed Olivia wasn’t the type to pull any punches. Personally, I found that refreshing after living in the phony Hollywood community for so long. “I assure you, I’m here to stay. I’ve retired from show business.”
Olivia’s perfectly arched eyebrow skyrocketed. “Retired? Really? I would think that would be hard. Isn’t it in your blood? I mean, your mother’s an actress too, right?”
I shot her a wry smile. “If that’s true, then I want a transfusion.”
“I was sad to hear about your series,” Rita cut in. “I always watched Spy Anyone. It was one of my favorite shows.”
“Mine too,” said Ron, and Olivia nodded. “I watched it for your co-star,” she said with a shrug. “I hope he’s not retiring from show business too.”
“Gary? I doubt it. He’s too much of a ham.”
Olivia leaned one arm on the counter. “Frankly, I’m disappointed. I thought your moving here had something to do with that breakup of yours, you know with that director—OW!” She rubbed at her side and glared at Rita.
“No sense in rehashing things I’m sure Shell must be sick of hearing, right?” Rita said smoothly.
“Oh, for pity’s sakes, the woman lived in Hollywood, the gossip capital of the world. She’s used to it, aren’t you, Shell?” Olivia demanded.
“Now now, Olivia, don’t put her on the spot,” chided Ron. “She might not want to talk about it.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Shell’s a public figure. Her life’s been an open book for years,” snapped Olivia. “Besides, I’m curious about this retirement. What made you decide to give up the bright lights to follow in your aunt’s footsteps?”
“Those bright lights aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” I said. “When you’re on a hit show, your life isn’t your own. As for taking over Aunt Tillie’s business, well, I’ve always loved animals. I think if I hadn’t been pushed into going into acting, I probably would have gone for a career in veterinary medicine. And I feel I owe it to my aunt. She was always there for me when I was growing up. One of my biggest regrets is not having had much contact with her before she passed. No one in our family even knew she was ill.”
Rita made a sympathetic noise. “Don’t beat yourself up over that, dear. No one did. Tillie could be quite close-mouthed when it came to certain things, and her health was one of them. I doubted she’d have told you anything anyway, even if you talked twice a week. Tillie never liked folks worrying or fussing over her.”
“But she did enjoy fussing over others,” Olivia put in. “Take her roommate, for example.”
My head swiveled in Olivia’s direction and I let out an astonished gasp. “Roommate? I’ve been staying at the house all by myself since the funeral. And my aunt’s lawyer didn’t mention anything about her having a roommate.” It was true I hadn’t really searched Tillie’s decidedly large house, but all the things there seemed to be hers. Maybe this roommate only used one room, like a renter?
“No?” Olivia shrugged. “Maybe it slipped his mind.”
“Kind of an important detail to slip up on, don’t you think?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I find it a bit hard to believe my aunt would take in a boarder. She didn’t need the money, and as you’ve already pointed out, she valued her privacy.”
Olivia chuckled. “That’s because you never saw the two of them together. He doted on your aunt, and she was a sucker for him.”
He. A male boarder. A sudden thought occurred to me. “Were my aunt and this boarder involved?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Olivia nodded. “There was nothing Tillie wouldn’t do for him. He had her wrapped around his little finger. Or maybe I should say paw.”
“Paw?”
Eyes twinkling, Olivia reached toward the basket I’d set on the counter, undid the cellophane, and crinkled some of it between her fingers. “That should bring him running. See! There he is now.”
I turned and caught a blur of white out of the corner of my eye. The next instant, the blur streaked past me and with one graceful leap landed on all fours right in the center of the counter.
“Oh my God,” I cried. “What is
that?”
“Merow,” said the blur. “Owww.”
The others started to laugh. “That,” choked out Olivia, “is the store mascot and your aunt’s roomie. Shell, meet Purrday.”
• Two •
F or a second I was speechless. The cat and I just stared at each other, which was a little off-putting, because I saw at once he only had one eye—one large, brilliant blue one that seemed to pierce right through me. He had the typical flat nose and face one associates with a Persian cat; a thick, luxurious coat of shiny, snow white hair; and plenty of good old-fashioned cattitude. He pranced regally across the table and arranged himself right next to the basket, tail wrapped around his forepaws, and studied me with what I imagined my aunt would have referred to as “catly disdain.”
“Purrday?” I said at last. “That’s an odd name.”
“It was your aunt’s homage to her very favorite Cary Grant movie,” said Rita.
I frowned, and then my expression cleared. “Friday. Purrday. Got it.” I looked at all of them. “You said he was the store mascot?”
“Yes,” Olivia said, inclining her head slightly. “Tillie always had him here in the store. Never saw a mouse anywhere around, either.”
“Oh.” I let out a relieved sigh. “Then he wasn’t her house cat?”
Olivia placed her hands on her hips and wiggled her eyebrows at me. “What part of roommate didn’t you get? Of course she had him in her house. Purrday was her pet.”
“He hasn’t been back to the house, though, since she passed,” Rita cut in. “We all have been taking turns looking after him, feeding him. We figured he’d be lonely in that big rambling house, and no one knew how long you’d be here or if you even liked cats. He has everything he needs in the store. Besides, he’s more useful here right now, keeping the mice at bay.”
At the word mice, Purrday lifted his head. “Ffft,” he said.
They all laughed. “He takes his job seriously,” said Ron. “Not that there are many mice about, but one never knows,” he added quickly.
Rita reached out and stroked the cat’s back. He let out a loud rumble. “Don’t let his appearance fool you. He might look like he’s been through the war, but he’s a pedigreed Persian. Got papers and everything.”
A Persian named Purrday? Oy. I pushed a hand through my hair. I didn’t even want to think how my pedigreed Siamese would react to the news that she now had a brother. Come to think of it, where was my Siamese? Either in hiding or planning a rear flank attack on the newcomer, most likely.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia’s sharp voice intruded on my thoughts. “Why are you looking around? Did you lose something?”
Only my mind. “I’m just wondering how all this came about. Is Purrday a rescue cat?”
“In a way,” chuckled Rita. “You could say he rescued old women from being lonely.”
Olivia reached toward the cat, held out her hand. Purrday leaned toward her, sniffed her fingers, then gave them a quick lick and sat back. “He belonged to Mrs. Trimble. When she died suddenly last year, no one in her family wanted him. They were going to bring him to a shelter over in Newton.”
“Unfortunately, that shelter is a kill shelter, which means if the cat wasn’t adopted within a certain amount of time, he’d be put to sleep. Tillie just wouldn’t hear of that, so she took him in and renamed him,” Rita finished with a flourish.
I regarded the cat dubiously. He was pretty much ignoring me, his full attention now devoted to washing his long, bristling tail. “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to just find a no-kill shelter?”
“Probably,” Olivia said cheerily, “but as we said, your aunt was a sucker for Purrday. She always used to bring him treats when she visited Mrs. Trimble.”
“Yep,” Ron laughed. “She loved him even back when his name was Creampuff.”
“Creampuff, eh?” I looked at the cat, who let out a soft grr. I chuckled. “I think I can guess how he lost the eye.”
“I don’t know for sure, but rumor has it he got into it with an old tom a few years ago,” Olivia chuckled. “Believe it or not, the tom got the worst of it. Purrday might look like that pampered Persian on those cat food commercials, but deep down he’s a fighter.”
Purrday had apparently decided his tail was well groomed enough, and he stretched out on the counter, his eye fixed firmly on me. “He looks like he’s studying me,” I said.
“He probably is. He’s a very discerning cat.” Olivia smiled at me. “Since you’re staying for good, you’re going to keep him, right?”
“I-I don’t know.” I hesitated and then blurted, “I already have a cat.”
“Oh.” The three of them looked at each other and then Olivia said brightly, “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Purrday gets along with other cats. Usually.”
“Your aunt loved that cat like he was a human,” Rita put in. “I’m sure she would want you to take care of him.”
Purrday rose from his supine position, stretched, then ambled over and gave my elbow a soft butt with his head. When I showed no reaction, he butted me again, but gentler this time, almost like a caress. He jumped down from the counter and started winding around my ankles, around and around, making slow figure eights.
“See.” Olivia’s tone held a note of triumph. “He likes you. And he’s lonely now. He misses your aunt.”
I worried my bottom lip; then I sank into a crouching position and reached out my hand. Slowly, tentatively, I let my fingers glide over his silky white fur. I trailed them down his back and then rubbed the top of his head. He angled his face so that my fingers slid under his chin.
“Like that, do you?” I asked.
His response was a deep, rumbling purr.
I laughed. “Wow, that’s loud! He sounds like a B-52 coming in for a landing. I totally get the name.” I looked at each of them in turn. “Are you sure one of you wouldn’t like to keep him?” I asked.
Three heads shook emphatically to and fro in unison. “I love cats,” Rita said quickly, “but my husband is very allergic. I would have taken Purrday in a heartbeat if not for that.”
Ron held up both hands. “My two Great Danes would no doubt find Purrday fun, but I doubt the feeling would be mutual.”
I looked at Olivia as if to say, And what’s your excuse? I noticed she studiously avoided my gaze as she shrugged and answered, “I have a parrot.”
I’ll bet.
Sensing my attention to him was waning, Purrday butted my hand with his head. I scratched his chin with one hand, ran my other down his long back. The purr came from deep within him. It was oddly … comforting.
He raised his head and fixed me with his piercing, one-eyed stare. I lifted my hands away and rose.
The purring abruptly stopped. Purrday struggled to a sitting position and sat looking at me, tail wrapped around his forepaws. His look plainly said, Oh, come on, Missy. What have you got to lose? And I’ve been around here longer than you have, anyway.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s up to Kahlua.”
“Huh?” Olivia said. “Whether or not you keep Purrday is up to a liqueur?”
“No, to my Siamese.” I started to walk around the room. “Kahlua, where are you? There’s someone I want you to meet.”
The cat in question emerged slowly from behind a large box in the far corner of the store. Very slowly, Kahlua made her way toward us. She stopped a few feet away and her big blue eyes widened as she caught sight of Purrday. Then she moved forward, putting one paw in front of the other, until she was about a foot away from him. Then she peeled back her lips and let out the loudest hiss I’d ever heard.
“Oh, isn’t that sweet,” cried Rita.
I whirled on her. “Sweet? That sounded terrible. Kahlua doesn’t like him.”
Olivia shook her head. “Cats are the most territorial creatures around. Of course they won’t li
ke each other at the beginning. But they’ll get used to each other. And Tillie’s house is huge. The two of them could go for days, even weeks, without running into each other.”
The part about Tillie’s house being huge was true. At one point I’d even toyed with the idea of turning it into a bed-and-breakfast, but getting rid of all the collectibles my aunt had scattered around the mansion in order to do that would have been an insurmountable task. I chewed at my bottom lip. “Kahlua, we really have no choice. Purrday was Aunt Tillie’s baby, just like you are mine.”
Kahlua shot me a look that plainly said, Well, I don’t have to like it now, do I? She lay down, head on paws, her eyes fixed on the Persian.
Purrday, for his part, seemed unfazed by the Siamese’s reaction to him. He rose, stretched, and inched toward her, sniffing. When he got within a few inches, Kahlua raised her paw and smacked him straight across the nose. Purrday looked dazed for a minute, then turned, tail swishing, and hopped back up on the counter.
“See that,” Rita cried triumphantly. “They’ll get along just fine.”
I shot both cats a dubious look. “We’ll see,” I said at last. “I guess I owe it to Aunt Tillie to try, anyway.”
“See, that’s the spirit.” Olivia nodded approvingly. “Trust me, the three of you will be fast friends in no time.”
Kahlua removed herself to a far corner of the store and Purrday lifted his head and let out a soft meow. “He might be hungry,” ventured Rita. “We’ve been keeping food and water for him in the back. Come, I’ll show you.”
I followed Rita into the back storage area. I put the overhead light on, and it was then I noticed the cut-out in the back door. A cat door, no doubt. Rita saw me eyeing it and grinned. “Your aunt did that so Purrday could wander out. He likes to sun himself on the back stoop and watch the birds in that old elm tree.”
I nodded. It seemed as if Purrday was pretty much at home in the store. Worst-case scenario, I could always leave him here. If my aunt’s ghost didn’t haunt me.
The Time for Murder is Meow Page 2
