by Lada Ray
We walked past rows and rows of cages containing cats of all sizes and colors. Some longhaired, others with very short fur, tabbies, white, black, orange and all shades in between.
“Oh, my God,” I said, astonished. “How many kitties need a home!”
“They are all up for adoption,” said Amy. “Perhaps, you'd like one?”
“I've actually been thinking about it lately,” I said. “But this is all so new to me. At first, I'll come and help out, if you don't mind. When I get my bearings, I'll decide who I want to adopt.”
As we continued our tour, the kitties peaked curiously at us.
“Oh, they are all so cute,” I cooed, petting a tiny grey kitten with fur as soft as the lightest down. The kitten licked my finger and purred happily. “How can I possibly choose? This is going to be the most difficult decision ever!”
Adelaide smiled, a crinkle in her wise eyes. “When the time comes, my dear, you'll know.”
“Easy for you to say,” I countered. “Lily is so special, one of a kind really. I bet, it was the easiest choice ever.”
“That's true,” Adelaide agreed. “I knew we belonged together the moment I saw her.”
“See!”
“And you, my dear, will know, too.”
I did my share of cleaning and petting and agreed to come back next Monday. On the way back, I followed Jason and Adelaide in my Land Rover. When we arrived at Adelaide's, Jason said goodbye and left with his truck.
“He works at a local organic farm,” explained Adelaide. “He prefers to work with his hands and it's good for him, he gains experience. He's developed an interest in farming. Plus... Plus, it helps that he doesn't have to deal with the locals.”
“I know,” I gave her an understanding look.
We stood, chatting by the low stone wall leading into the Adelaide's front garden, when Princess Lily stealthily appeared out of nowhere and perched herself on top of the wall in her usual white pedestal statue pose. I petted her silky fur, as we discussed when and where we'd meet next Monday to go to the animal shelter.
“I would prefer next Monday at noon,” said Adelaide. “In the morning, I have to visit my lawyer, make some changes to my will.”
“Noon's fine,” I agreed.
“Great,” said Adelaide, when she noticed someone on the other side of the street.
“Hi Dan,” she waived to an athletic looking man walking a huge German Shepherd on a leash. “Walking James?”
“How's everything, Adelaide?” replied the man sociably, crossing over to our side of the street.
Adelaide opened her mouth to answer the question, when James all of sudden jerked on his leash and charged in our direction.
“James, no! No!” yelled Dan, trying to hold off his dog.
But it was too late.
I became conscious of a loud hissing sound. Lily was still perched on the stone wall next to me, her fur standing on end, which made her look like a cat-porcupine. Her normally wide open eyes became tiny slits, her tail expanded to four times its usual size, her mouth opened huge in an angry hiss. She was obviously gearing for battle.
I've never seen Lily like that before and having no experience with this kind of situation, amid earsplitting barking, angry hissing and loud, but vain attempts by Dan to restrain his powerful dog, I clutched instinctively at my stomach and just stood there, mouth hanging open in astonishment.
“I better take Lily inside,” reacted Adelaide calmly. It appeared, to her the scene wasn't a surprise at all. She swiftly picked up the warrior princess and carried her into the house, disregarding her sonorous protests. And just like that, a major international incident was averted.
“James, sit!” said Dan, obviously relieved. The dog immediately obeyed, as if the previous episode never happened.
He sat, his long pink tongue hanging out, and followed me with his moist eyes. His glance clearly said, “See, I am a good doggie. Please, pet me.” I wanted to, I really did, but the memory of what has just happened kept me at a safe distance.
“Don't be afraid to pet him,” said Dan, noticing my hesitation. “He usually is a very friendly dog.”
I petted James tentatively, as he looked at me adoringly with his puppy dog eyes. “See, I am very tame,” James transmitted to me telepathically.
I did a double take. Wh… what? Now I can read a dog's mind, too? I resumed petting James to see if I could hear more. Yes, I could! “I just wanted to show you that I am a strong and dependable dog, that I can bark really well and protect you from danger,” James seemed to be saying in his telepathic doggie language.
I got down on my knees in front of him and, petting his big furry head, looked straight into his eyes. “I appreciate it very much,” I sent him my thought, hoping he would catch it. “I know I can fully rely on you, if necessary. But could you please promise me not to fight with Lily any more?”
James looked at me hesitantly, then grudgingly agreed, “It's a deal. But that cat is really asking for it!” He licked my right hand. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know, I'll protect you.”
I caught his transmission again, still a little shocked, but willingly suspending my disbelief.
“It's a deal,” I transmitted back to him and got up from my knees. I dusted my pants and looked at James's owner to see if he'd noticed anything.
“See, he is harmless,” Dan said with a broad smile. Apparently not.
“I am Dan, by the way,” he continued, extending his hand. “I live a few blocks from here, by Hidden Lake.”
“I'm Jade. It's nice to meet you.”
“And this is James. He is usually well behaved, but he and Lily have never been on good terms, just like the proverbial cat and dog. Come on, James, show Jade that you are a good dog. Give her your paw.”
And James obligingly extended his right paw, his puppy dog eyes gazing at me with devotion, his tongue hanging out. I solemnly shook it. “It's nice to meet you, James. I hope we meet again soon under more fortunate circumstances.”
“I think, James would welcome the idea,” said Dan with a wink. “He always had a soft spot for pretty girls.”
James gave a short, confirmational bark.
Chapter 16
Tuesday, Tuesday... What was I supposed to do on Tuesday? I stared at my calendar. Animal shelter? That was yesterday and next Monday. Knitting club? No, that's tomorrow, Wednesday and also, Saturday. What else was I forgetting?
Ah, yes! Marc Catcham invited me to the Rotary Club meeting, which I promised myself to avoid at all cost. But what a terrific sleuthing chance! Crème de la crème of Stepford will be there. Certainly, Peter Burns and Marc Catcham, and possibly, a few other interesting specimens I needed to check out.
Dilemma, big dilemma. I suppose...Well, I suppose, I have to scratch that promise, after all.
Another eternal dilemma - what to wear? After some soul searching, I chose a dressier silk tunic with swirls of blue and silver on it, pairing it with white pants that still, thankfully, fit me. After a critical examination of my current favorites, Merrell walkers, I opted for my past favorites and infinitely more presentable, Italian flats.
Not bad, considering. One experimental twirl in front of the mirror and I was off to the Blue Peacock.
The sign in the entrance hall read:
Stepford Rotary Club Luncheon Meeting
West Banquet Hall
Tuesday, 1 p.m.
“Ah, you made it!” Marc Catcham met me by the entrance, habitual politician's smile stamped onto his face.
I stumbled on the edge of the oversized door rug, but quickly recovered and shook his hand. Marc Catcham looked sharp, as always, in his navy suit made of light Italian wool and a perfect snow-white shirt. He also wore an expensive dark-red tie, held in place by an exquisite gold tie pin adorned with a large faceted black onyx in the center. My eyes rested on the tie pin. A beautiful little thing. I wouldn't mind getting something like this for Paul... if I could ever persuade him to
wear a tie, that is.
“Marc,” I nodded to him.
“Allow me to introduce Dr. Gray, chief physician at our renowned Berkshire Hope Clinic.”
“Dr. Gray,” he turned to the imposing man standing next to him, “please meet Jade Snow, a journalist from New York.”
Dr. Gray shook my hand with a smile, but his narrow eyes were alert and their probing look made me feel unsettled. I passed into the banquet hall, where two long sideboards were already set up with the usual corporate spread: various cold cuts, sliced bread and cut veggies, large bowls of what looked like a glorified potato salad, bagged black tea, coffee in large dispensers that probably sat there for at least an hour, orange juice and bottled water in large ice bowls, as well as platters of suspiciously sugary looking cookies and a conventional, white flower cake for desert. Not what I'd call a great lunch.
I scanned the spread with a skeptical eye and after some hesitation, took a couple of slices of turkey breast, a piece of cheese, a slice of bread, a few veggies and grabbed a bottle of iced water. The banquet hall was set up with several large round tables covered with white tablecloths. I decided to sit at a table nearest the exit, thinking that in case I wanted to leave early, I could slip out unnoticed. As I was about to sit down, I threw a glance back towards the entrance. Marc Catcham and Dr. Gray were still there, involved in a quiet conversation. There was a frown on Marc's face. What's more, both of their eyes were fixed on me. A chill I couldn't quite explain, ran through my body.
“Jade,” said a voice next to me. “We meet again!”
“Good to see you, Linda,” I responded, grateful for the distraction.
“As a matter of fact,” continued Linda in a hushed voice, leaning close to me, “I wanted to have a chat with you.”
“Sure,” I said, a tad surprised. “Shoot.”
“Let's walk out together at the end and I'll tell you then,” she said enigmatically.
I nodded and prepared to start on my turkey breast, when a tall young woman in stiletto heels with a luxurious mane of meticulously styled blond hair and a big smile on her red lips, sat next to me. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Hi, I am Marina Pelsidski,” she introduced herself in a throaty, accented voice. “I own Larger Than Life photo studio, down on Spring Street.” She tossed her hair with an exaggerated move of her head and settled regally into the seat next to me. I noticed that a couple of older men in the room stared at her. Larger than life, indeed.
“Jade Snow,” I said, shaking her hand.
“What do you do, Jade?” Marina asked.
“I am a journalist.”
“I see,” she nodded. I didn't know exactly what she saw, but smiled at her amicably and made a second attempt to get back to my turkey breast.
The tables were now almost full. I noticed Linda sitting a few tables from mine in the center of the room. She was talking to Marc Catcham on her right. Another person I recognized was Jack Maloof, who sat at the table nearest the podium.
What a contrast he was compared to Marc! In honor of the occasion he wore a properly ironed blue shirt with an unbecoming tie. As usual, he didn't participate in the conversation at the table and was devouring with surprising appetite a mountain of cold cuts on his plate. At the table next to him was Judge Bowman, whom I saw at the Blue Peacock restaurant a couple of weeks prior, the same day I met Marc, Jack and Peter.
Speaking of which, where was Peter? I would've thought he'd definitely be here. With that thought, I turned towards the entrance and as I did, I noticed Marina next to me throwing impatient glances in the same direction. A moment later, her face illuminated, as the door opened and Peter Burns appeared. He scanned the room briefly, noticed an empty seat on the other side of Marina and resolutely directed his steps towards us.
“Sorry, I'm late,” he nodded to everyone at the table.
“Marina,” he said to her offhandedly, but there was something in his glance and in her knowing smile that made me take notice. He saw me and added quickly, “Good to see you, Jade.”
Nothing more was said, but I became cognizant of a certain excitement in the air. It wasn't something you usually felt at this kind of impersonal, cold affair. No, it was something entirely different, something... something... akin to passion? Lust? Hmm... Could it be? And where was it coming from? I turned right. Sitting there was a shriveled up man with shrewd eyes, who at that very moment took out his handkerchief and, probably thinking no one was looking, was in the process of wiping his long, hooked nose. He seemed to be in his sixties and was dressed in a non-descript grey suit.
“Solomon Schwartz, accountant,” he said in a nasal voice, shaking my hand with his dry and bony one.
“Nice to meet you. Jade Snow, journalist,” I said. No, the energy I felt clearly didn't originate from here.
I turned left and dropped my fork, which hit the floor with a clutter. Marina and Peter Burns were in the process of exchanging such a glance, that there was no mistaking it. It was a glance only lovers could possibly share. That's why they wanted to sit in the corner, away from prying eyes.
Suddenly, I remembered the dropped fork. Neither waiters nor spare forks were in sight. Once more, I turned right. Solomon Schwartz was already engaged in a discussion with another man. I turned left. Marina and Peter were absorbed in a conversation of their own. In fact, everyone seemed busily conversing with their neighbors.
Damn! That meant that I'd have to bend and reach under the table to retrieve that fork all by myself. That was awkward, considering my best bending days were in the past... I looked under the table. Damn, damn and triple damn! The fork was on the floor to my left and just out of my reach. I leaned as far forward as I could and tried to grasp it. No luck. About to withdraw, I noticed a movement to my left. A slim woman's foot with red toenails slid out of a stiletto-hilled shoe and made its way toward the leg of the man next to her. The agile foot seductively traced its way up the man's trouser, and kept moving higher, higher, higher.
All right, I decided. I've seen enough. I emerged from under the table without my fork and absentmindedly nibbled on a piece of carrot on my plate. Now I remembered where I saw Marina. It was at the Stepford Day Fair, in the back of the photography tent, where she was very busy, smooching Peter Burns.
Meanwhile, everyone's attention turned to the podium occupied by Linda Morrow.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, we have a tradition of sorts. Every month, one of our own members gets a chance to talk to us all about his or her business. I am very pleased to introduce today's speaker, whose presentation I think will be a special treat. Please give a warm welcome to Jack Maloof, CEO of Virtual Reality Research and Development.”
“Oh, this should be very interesting,” Mr. Schwartz murmured excitedly to no one in particular, making himself comfortable in his chair.
I observed Jack slouch towards the podium, all hunched up as usual, his gangly arms swinging in an uncoordinated fashion along his body. The banquet hall, to my great surprise, exploded with applause.
I had to admit, I had serious doubts about Jack's ability to deliver a remotely interesting, let alone exciting, presentation. Perhaps, the Rotary Club members were just an especially supportive bunch? Maybe they just wanted Jack to feel at home and welcome here? Which, of course, was very nice of them, but where did that leave me?
Having lost my fork, I couldn't even eat the food on my plate. And as I was getting restless from sitting motionless in my chair, I realized that I wasn't too keen on enduring Jack's boring speech while starving. It occurred to me that this was a good time to slip out unnoticed and go find something edible for lunch. But then, I remembered my promise to get together with Linda.
Hmm... I really needed to befriend her. As editor-in-chief of the Stepford Post she was bound to be in the thick of things! She knew people, heard things and she could be a source of useful info about what happened here thirteen years ago. I sat, trying to decide whether it would be okay to call Linda later and exp
lain to her why I was unable to stay till the end, when suddenly the large screen behind the podium lit up, lights went out and Jack started talking.
“Thank you,” he mumbled into the microphone in his usual colorless voice. Then he pressed a button on a slick remote control and an image appeared on the screen. “I am here today to talk about the future of virtual reality. Mankind has always dreamed about shaping up reality based on our specifications and today, we can boast of certain achievements in this exciting sphere of knowledge. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you our FUTURE!”
The screen came alive with beautiful scenery, changing dynamically every several seconds: a butterfly landing on a flower and changing into an eagle soaring to the sky, then in turn, changing into a rabbit running through a meadow and turning into a dinosaur. And so on and so on. It was very cool!
“Virtual reality is a computer program, which simulates real life in an imaginary environment.” As I listened, Jack's voice began to change. There was passion and power in it I would have never suspected he possessed.
“Imagine,” he went on, “that you are in the future. You enter a special chamber and as the door behind you closes, you start experiencing new and very exciting sensations. Suppose, your dream has always been to be someone totally different than what you are today. You are a superman or a superwoman able to fly, like the wind. It's exhilarating, intoxicating. You soar up to the sun and circle around the planet with the speed of sound. Have you always wanted to explore the depths of the Pacific Ocean? No problem! Just give a command to your very own virtual reality chamber and viola! You are there. Perhaps, you wanted to go to a beautiful tropical island and relax on the beach, where local beauties would give you a relaxing massage, catering to your every whim?” (Wistful chuckles from the audience, primarily male.)
Jack continued talking, as I forgot about my hunger. It was fascinating and I wanted to learn more about this futuristic stuff that seemed straight out of Star Trek and yet, based on Jack's presentation, appeared to be accessible to us, mere mortals. I was still deeply immersed in the fantasy Jack managed to create on stage, when the presentation ended.
