by Hanson
She sighed and settled down to her lunch, remembering what she wanted to tell James.
“If you don't have any luck finding Sapphire on your own, there is one alternative,” Anabelle said.
“I’ll be grateful for any suggestion,” James said, putting down his fork with a bite of macaroni and cheese still on it.
“A friend of mine lost her parrot once. She’d taught it quite a few words and had gotten quite fond of it. She was really upset when it somehow got out of its cage on the back patio and disappeared. It happened in the fall, and she was afraid it couldn't survive alone, especially not when the weather started getting cold. She contacted a service called Missing Paws—they hunt for all pets, not just four-footed ones. They found Captain Punch, and a parrot has to be harder than a cat.”
“Where are they located?” James asked. “I’ve never heard of them in Deerford.”
“Peoria, so it wouldn't be too far for them to take a case here. My friend thought their fee was reasonable too,” Anabelle said. “You can find them on the Internet.”
“I hate to think of Fern without her kitty,” Candace said. “Maybe Sapphire will come strutting home, tail held high, after a little adventure.”
“Don't I wish!” James said. “The trouble is, we’re in a new neighborhood. She might be confused about where she lives. Or worse, something might have prevented her from coming home. I worry about cars even though the traffic on our street isn't heavy.”
“I didn't know there was such a thing as a pet detective,” Candace said. “I thought it was only a comic movie idea. One of Brooke's friends wanted her to come over and watch one on a DVD, but she didn't go. It sounded like it had some questionable material, so I was glad Brooke didn't think she’d like it. Of course, that was several years ago. Now she pretty much wants to do anything her friends suggest. She makes me feel like a mean mother when I say no to anything.”
“Someday Brooke will have children of her own, and she’ll understand how hard it is to be the grown-up,” Anabelle said.
Candace smiled and nodded her head. “You’re right, of course. I’m not in a hurry to get old, but I can see the upside of having children outgrow the teen years. I’ll miss Brooke terribly when she's old enough to be on her own, but it would be wonderful to have her as a friend.”
“It will happen,” Anabelle assured her. “You know how hard it's been for me to adjust to having adult children—no longer under my wing—but I’ve grown to love it.”
“You have a lovely family,” Candace said. “I hope my children grow up to be as nice as yours.”
“With you as their mother, they almost certainly will,” Anabelle assured her.
James was late getting home after work, thanks to a long meeting on hospital procedures. He was optimistic about his committee, especially Dr. Weller. The young physician had a lot of good ideas, but he didn't try to dominate the proceedings. But if James had learned one thing, it was how complicated emergency procedures could be. Every person on the staff from the CEO to the custodians had to be aware of their responsibilities. There couldn't be any exceptions or slipups if they faced an epidemic.
In spite of a successful day, James couldn't keep his mind off Fern's missing cat. He walked into the house with his fingers crossed, silly as that seemed to him, because it wasn't just Fern who was hoping to find their pet. The boys would get a big confidence boost if their efforts were successful. Fern would be greatly relieved to get Sapphire back, but she would also be touched by all that her sons were doing to help.
She was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a salad, standing by the sink instead of sitting on her high stool, an indication that her MS wasn't bothering her as much today as it sometimes did. She smiled at him, but it wasn't her usual radiant grin when she was feeling well.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Spaghetti sauce. The boys have been working so hard trying to find Sapphire. I wanted to fix something they really like. I haven't started the noodles yet.”
James knew that lifting a heavy kettle of water onto the stove was too taxing for her; so he automatically found the pasta pot, filled it with hot water, and put it on the stove to boil.
Gideon came home first, and James could read defeat on his face.
“I think that cat has disappeared from the face of the earth,” he said glumly.
James wanted to say something encouraging, but he was losing hope too.
“She's such a beautiful animal,” Fern said. “Certainly someone has taken her to the shelter. Or possibly adopted her, thinking she was a stray.”
Her husband didn't want to throw cold water on her spark of optimism, but he’d already checked with the Bureau County Animal Shelter. They didn't have a cat even remotely resembling Sapphire; but an acquaintance who worked there—Josh Johnston—had promised to call if one came in.
Nelson came into the kitchen looking as downcast as his brother.
“We’ve put the fliers everywhere in town. Do you think it would help if the Scouts made some big posters? Maybe people aren't noticing those small sheets of paper,” he said.
“It's something to keep in mind,” James said tactfully. “Actually, Anabelle Scott gave me a good idea at lunch today. There's a company called Missing Paws in Peoria. A friend of hers had good luck hiring them to find a lost parrot. I thought we might give them a call if Sapphire doesn't turn up soon.”
“You mean there really is such a thing as a pet detective?” Fern asked.
“Absolutely,” James said.
“Cool!” Nelson said. “A real detective!”
“Apparently,” James said with a smile.
“I don't know what a stranger could do that we haven't already tried,” Gideon said morosely.
“I wonder whether they’re terribly expensive.” Fern frowned, and James knew it bothered her that she wasn't able to contribute to the family's income, especially when their old house still hadn't sold.
“We’ll worry about it when the time comes,” James said. “There hasn't been time for someone to see a flier and connect it to a stray cat. Even as we speak, Sapphire could be living high on tuna and milk while the person who found her wonders what to do with her.”
Fern gave him a wan smile. His forced optimism wasn't fooling her.
“Now, who's hungry for spaghetti?” James asked, peering into the pot to see if it was time to dump the noodles into the water. “Your mother made the sauce, so you know it will be good.”
Nelson mustered some enthusiasm, but Gideon still looked grim. No doubt his older son knew that the chances of finding Sapphire were slimming by the minute. James wasn't optimistic either, but at least Anabelle's suggestion was one more thing they could try.
Chapter Five
ANABELLE DROVE HOME AFTER WORK IN A disturbed frame of mind after running several errands. As a nurse supervisor in the Cardiac Care Unit, she was acutely aware of ailments that could affect a man her husband's age. In fact, maybe she knew too much for her own peace of mind.
When Cameron was still working in his landscaping business, he’d automatically kept fit and trim. Now, though, he’d turned the running of the business over to their son Evan and took things easier. He’d worked hard all his life, starting his business from scratch by mowing lawns, and Anabelle thought he deserved a more leisurely life. At sixty-five, he was only a year older than she was; and, at first, he’d delighted in doing things he’d never had time to do while working. He traced his Scots ancestors back eleven generations and enjoyed reading about the history of Scotland. He was teaching himself to cook and sometimes made a delicious dinner for the two of them. He never had to say no to church or community activities for lack of time, and, of course, he greatly enjoyed their first grandchild Lindsay Belle whose first birthday they would celebrate in April.
Was Cam happy with his retirement lifestyle? Was he keeping healthy without the hard exercise he used to get in his business? Should she retire to keep him company? Anabel
le loved her job and wasn't ready to quit, but she couldn't shake a nagging little doubt. Maybe her place was at home with her husband.
She didn't often dwell on this thought. In fact, Cam encouraged her to keep working as long as she liked.
“It's only because he's being so secretive about his doctor,” she said to herself as she pulled up in front of their boxy three-bedroom farmhouse on the edge of town.
Usually she took a minute to enjoy the view from the front of the house. They owned two pastures and a small barn in a lovely rural setting that was only two miles from the hospital. Today she was much too eager to hear about her husband's appointment to linger outside even though there was a faint promise of spring in the air, so she pulled into the garage and hit the button to close the door against the beauty outside.
Sarge met her inside the door of the mudroom.
“Hey, boy, how was your day?” she asked, petting his head as his big paws clattered on the tile floor.
What she’d said to Candace about learning to love children when they were babies certainly applied to Sarge. He’d been an adorable brown-and-white puppy with oversized paws and a whiplike tail when they found him at the shelter. It had been love at first sight when he was ten weeks old. Now he was close to the canine equivalent of a teenager, with legs, tongue, and tail in frantic motion as he panted his welcome. And she now enjoyed him even more than before.
“Sit, Sarge,” Cam said, coming up behind the dog.
Her husband and Sarge had gone to obedience school together, and Cameron still called on their lessons to calm the rambunctious dog.
He took her coat while Sarge sat panting for release from the command.
“How was your day?” Cam asked, kissing her cheek before he hung the coat in the closet.
“Pretty good. I recommended Missing Paws to James. Fern's cat has disappeared.”
“That's a shame, although I wouldn't mind if a few of our barn cats went missing. I think that big black-and-white male enjoys tormenting Sarge.”
“The cats were here before we were—at least their ancestors were,” Anabelle reminded him.
Although they didn't keep a cat in the house, they recognized the value of having some good mousers in the barn. Anabelle didn't like to think of all the little critters that would take up residence if the cats didn't stand guard.
“Well,” she began, trying to sound casual, “what did you learn at the doctor's?”
“Nothing much. I gained six pounds.”
“Okay…” Should she be worried? “What else?” She was resigned to coaxing information from him.
“He sliced off that wart that was bothering you.” He held up his bandaged finger for inspection.
“What about your vital organs, heart, lungs, liver?”
“Oh yeah, I have to go in for a blood test before breakfast one of these days.”
“Is that all?”
“Annie, lass, it was only a routine checkup.” He spoke with his version of a Scottish accent, a sure sign that he was trying to kid her. “Anyway, I have a surprise for you.”
“Really? A nice surprise?” She arched her eyebrows, willing to play his game.
“What's your favorite place to eat?”
“I really like that German restaurant in Peoria. It must be over a year since we went there.”
“I was thinking of somewhere in Deerford.” He sounded a tad disappointed that she hadn't mentioned the one he had in mind.
“Well, you can't beat the food at Heritage House. I love the idea that Abraham Lincoln once ate there when it was a private home and he was a young lawyer.”
“Well, whether he did or not,” Cameron said a bit skeptically, “it's the only place in the county that serves beef Wellington.”
“A good Scotsman like you wants to eat a dish named after the British hero of Waterloo?” she teased.
“There's some doubt about where it got the name. I looked it up online, and the dish may have been named after boots called Wellingtons. It's sort of shaped like a foot.”
“That doesn't make my mouth water. Anyway, it's Friday. There's almost no chance of a table at the Heritage House on their busiest night.”
“Ah, that's my surprise. I called ahead and reserved a table for two. We’ll have to go early, but you have time to spiff up before we leave.”
He grinned, looking so pleased with himself that she didn't have the heart to refuse, never mind that she’d been looking forward to a quiet evening after a hectic week at work.
“I’ll go get ready,” she said.
“Why don't you wear your turquoise dress?” he suggested.
She paused on her way upstairs, rather surprised that Cameron had suggested a dressy jersey dress that she usually saved for special occasions.
“I like seeing you in something nicer than hospital scrubs,” he said with a grin.
She didn't always wear scrubs. In fact, as a nurse supervisor she usually wore a lab coat over business-casual clothes, but she understood what he meant. The sweats she wore after work were hardly an improvement on the cotton scrubs she sometimes wore.
“If you say so,” she said and offered him a flirtatious smile.
But the wife in her wondered what he was up to. Was he softening her up for bad news from the doctor?
He gave her a happy grin, reminding her of the young man she’d married. They’d been high school sweethearts, and she thanked the Lord that their love had endured so many years. She didn't know what she would do without him. That was why she worried about his doctor's appointment, especially when he was being a little too casual about the results.
Cam did have a gift for making her feel special. An hour later they were seated in a small room at one of three tables set with gleaming white linen and sparkling crystal glassware. Because it was still early, they were the first diners in the room. When the owners converted the old house into a restaurant, they’d kept as much of the original ambiance as possible, including a virtual warren of small rooms.
Their young server was smartly dressed in a burgundy jacket and black pants. He gave them small menu cards printed on linen-finish paper and asked if they would like appetizers. Anabelle was surprised when Cam immediately ordered the house special, a tray that included fried zucchini, stuffed ravioli, and breaded cheese sticks.
“We could make a meal on this,” she said when it came.
Her husband filled a small plate with an assortment of goodies, but she was content to nibble on the zucchini.
“How often do we have such delicious food?” he asked between bites of cheese stick.
“We eat quite well at home,” she said, meaning it as a compliment to his cooking.
He smiled between bites but didn't answer.
Their server came back after they’d enjoyed the appetizers for a few minutes.
“May I take your order now?” he asked.
Anabelle was tempted to tell him that the appetizers would do them nicely, but she would feel a little odd if she didn't order a meal in such a nice place.
“What would you like?” Cameron asked.
He always liked to order for her in restaurants, a courtesy from long ago when they’d been dating.
“The trout, please, with fresh asparagus. I’ll pass on the rice pilaf.”
“Oh, you might as well get it,” Cam said. “You know I won't let it go to waste.”
He ordered for her and requested the beef Wellington for himself along with vinaigrette for her salad and blue cheese dressing on his.
She’d forgotten one specialty of the house: a round loaf of freshly baked Italian bread, brought to the table on a wooden cutting board. Cam did the honors, slicing off thick pieces for both of them and liberally spreading his with butter and blackberry jam.
“I wonder if we could get bread this good from a bread machine,” he mused after several bites. “I’m thinking of getting one like Ainslee has. Remember when we ate at her house last month?”
He sliced another pie
ce for himself, but Anabelle declined seconds. She’d only eaten part of her bread, and she found her appetite waning. When had Cam become such a voracious eater? Was it only because the food here was especially tempting, or had his eating habits changed since retirement? He’d always enjoyed a good dinner; but, of course, when he was active all day in his landscaping business, he burned up calories too fast to gain weight. She supposed that a six-pound gain in six months wasn't horrible, but was it the beginning of an alarming trend?
She didn't say anything when he devoured the rest of the loaf along with a salad loaded with slices of hard-boiled egg, croutons, bacon bits, and thick dressing. She kept quiet when he ate every bite of the beef Wellington—medium rare tenderloin covered with beautifully browned puff pastry—and the cottage fries he’d ordered with it. When the server asked if she wanted a take-home container for the rice Cam hadn't transferred to his plate, she declined. She also passed on a choice from the luscious assortment of cakes and pies on a dessert cart wheeled to their table. Cameron looked longingly at a huge piece of carrot cake with cream cheese icing and then looked at her frowning face and decided against a sweet finish to the meal.
“That was quite a meal,” he said as they walked out to their car.
“Quite a meal,” she echoed, wondering what she could do about her husband's unusually huge—and unhealthy—appetite.
She’d been married too long to expect to change him, but she was deeply worried about his eating habits. Was retirement so unfulfilling that he needed to compensate with food? He didn't seem unhappy with his new routine or the amount of leisure time, but maybe she’d been too busy to notice. Their big evening out left her puzzled and worried.
Anabelle awoke several times that night, her sleep disturbed because Cam had left their room.
