by Ritter Ames
"But I—"
"No, Katie, no argument. Everything will look better in the morning. Including the cat. I'll call George to come over, and we'll get the cat bathed after it comes home from the vet. Relax. Let your family take over here."
My family. That sounds so good. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."
Jane chuckled. "I remember being a young mom and coming home to overwhelming surprises at the end of a challenging day. Go. Take a shower. Relax and sleep. That's a mother-in-law's orders."
"Then they obviously should be obeyed."
"Darn tootin'."
The women laughed, and Kate headed upstairs. She still had a headache, a million body aches, and a boatload of anxiety. However, she was also filled with gratitude that she finally had the first real support system of her life and could truly believe things would be much better by morning.
"Tell the girls they have to clean up all the fur he sheds on the furniture. That's my new number one rule."
"It's a good rule to make right from the beginning," Jane agreed. "That cat has enough hair for several animals, and I'm betting he has no intention of keeping it all through the summer."
Kate sighed as she climbed the stairs. Maybe things would just be a little hairier by morning.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Tisket, a Tasket
Baskets are one of the most versatile organizing tools available. One set inside the regular entry door can hold mail, keys, and change, or give that last minute reminder for library books and videos that need to be returned the next trip out. A basket on a kitchen desk or corner of the countertop will hold receipts and warranties until they can be properly filed. A basket in the living room is perfect to hold remotes and DVDs. Large baskets in a closet will help for sorting tasks for later, such as using one for mending, another to hold clothes for dry cleaning, and another for items to donate.
* * *
The next morning Kate woke up to the cat. Five minutes before the alarm was set to score at six a.m., Kate's brain pulled itself out of the foggy sleep state by noticing two unfamiliar sensations. Keith snoring much louder than normal beside her, which he usually did only if he was particularly tired, and something heavy and solid, stretched out on her chest. She opened one eye to meet the gaze of a hopeful green one. When she opened the other, it met the sight of a permanently closed eye in an orange and gold, pug-nosed face. She knew for sure it wasn't a dream when the sound of an Evinrude engine seemed to fill the room, and the cat yawned, its pink tongue curling out to just inches from the end of Kate's nose.
She frowned and gently pushed the cat to the floor so she could get up without rousing Keith. The feline dogged her steps, watching every move she made. From retrieving and putting on her house coat and slippers, to the moment she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door to discourage his following her. As she washed her face to try to wake up completely, her mind ticked off breakfast options for her family and the cat. She thought she had some tuna in the pantry. Probably would work in a pinch for this morning at least. For the cat, of course, not her family.
Suddenly, she realized the cat might be waiting for its own turn at toilet options and could have awoken her for that need instead of breakfast. She hurried from the room and turned off the light. The cat sat as still as Buddha, waiting for her, profile tall and calm, front feet tucked in close to its body, face pointed upward, expression as bright as one could expect from an animal Kate now realized had been half-shaved last night in an obvious effort to remove the unbelievably matted hair.
The cat padded after her and into the hallway. In passing the girls' bathroom, Kate's nose picked up a new scent, and she investigated to find a litter-filled box in one corner. Its aromatic granular contents showing recent activity where the cat had used the facilities, then nearly covered over the evidence.
"So, you did just wake me because you're hungry, then?" She kept away the thought of supposing the cat may have wanted company. This wasn't her pet. This cat and all its responsibility belonged to Keith and the girls, and they and the animal needed to know the parameters from the beginning. "I'll feed you now, since I went to bed earlier than everyone else. And your appearance this morning shows a lot of makeover time was spent on you last night by the whole crew. But don't go thinking you're my cat or anything along those lines. Understand?"
She took another look at the litter box before turning off the light. "I have to say, you're pretty neat. You have that going for you at least."
In the kitchen, she found a bowl just inside of the laundry room with a couple of pieces of kibble left in the bottom. Next to it sat a nearly empty water dish. A bag of dry cat food had been left on the dryer, so she poured a good portion into the bowl and set the bag down on the floor. The cat looked at her, as if asking permission to eat.
"Go on, it's yours," she said while picking up the water dish. The cat obviously understood and nearly knocked her over in its haste to now reach the food. The sound of the outboard motorboat engine rose in volume.
After returning the refilled water dish, Kate left the utility room door open enough for the cat to escape back into the kitchen. She washed her hands and set about making coffee. When she tried to find bread, she realized the new loaf was still in the van and decided to whip up a batch of muffins instead. The cat returned to the kitchen and chose a spot a few feet away to watch her.
The first dozen muffins were being slid into the oven to bake when a knock sounded on the back door. The morning sun was bright enough to illuminate Meg's profile against the cheery, cherry print curtains covering the window in the top of the door.
"Hi, come on in."
"You were wiped out last evening. Hope you slept all night." Meg bent down to pet the cat, who had again matched Kate's steps to the door. "Aren't you a handsome lad this morning?"
"You're obviously being kind, or you like the punk cat look," Kate said. Now taking a better look at the animal, he did look a little better cleaned up. He'd never win any beauty pageants, and she wondered what the story was behind his eye, as he didn't seem a bit aggressive or prone to fighting. The jury was still out, but she'd give the animal a chance. For the girls' sake, of course.
Meg gave his ears a last scratch then rose and poured herself and Kate a cup of coffee. "My second freshly brewed cup of the morning." She handed over the other mug. "Love days like this."
"I see evidence you helped in last night's miracle endeavor. Litter boxes and food," Kate said.
"Yes." Meg laughed. "Despite your daughters' insistence the cat loves kid food better, I thought the kibble might be a healthier and more convenient option for him. I ran out and got it when our guys and all the kids left to see what the vet said."
"Everyone?"
"Even your father-in-law." Meg moved to the table and took a seat. "The cat came home with a semi-clean bill of health. He was dehydrated and likely malnourished, but that's what comes from living the hobo-cat life. The vet's tech shaved the really bad parts, and then sent the group home with some heavy duty shampoo. The vet's instructions were pretty much to feed him whenever he wanted to eat. Otherwise, he should be fine. Jane and I cleaned up the bathroom after the crew scrubbed the cat in the girls' bathtub."
"Thank you, so much."
"No worries." Meg waved off the gratitude. "I enjoyed the time with your mother-in-law."
"She is nice. Isn't she?"
"Yep. And the scrubbing time also reminded me of something I've been wondering in odd moments. Do we have to clean up the Collier house once the movers get everything out? I forgot to ask if it's part of our contract."
Kate shook her head. "No. The real estate company handles that kind of thing, just like they hired Valerie. All sales expense stuff goes their way. I only called in the crime scene cleaning team because I didn't want us to have to clean finger print powder off everything before we loaded up. But Collier picked up the tab for their bill, too. All in all, we're still pretty much like we were to be
gin with as far as tasks and profits go."
"Good."
Though Meg had already offered friendship in the form of head scratching, the cat remained at Kate's heels, staking out the floor about a foot away as she sliced melon.
"Did they have any ideas about his eye?" Kate asked.
"It had been medically attended to at some point," Meg said, taking a tentative sip. "The vet figures the old guy belonged to someone who moved and couldn't afford to take him along. Or maybe his owner passed away. He's probably about four years old, and can't have been roughing it that long. And the eye alone shows someone cared enough to pay for real medical treatment."
Kate set the meal-ready bowl of melon back into the refrigerator and took her mug from the countertop to join Meg at the table. She looked down at the cat. "What's your story, fella? And for that matter, what's your name?"
The cat moved closer and rubbed against the leg of her lavender pajamas, the rumbling sound in his chest again growing. "I assume they scanned for a chip," Kate said.
"Yep, nothing." Meg smiled at the cat. "And as far as names go, the kids have tried out everything short of Rumpelstiltskin. Your girls have stuck with male names all along. But everyone lost it last night when Suzanne suggested Prince Charming. My boys leaned heavily toward character names used in the Transformer and Lego movies. Obviously, I need to more closely monitor their entertainment choices."
"What? No sports heroes?"
"Keith tried a couple, Gretzky first, of course, but I think that was just an effort to give the poor cat some dignity."
Kate shook her head and stared into the animal's one good eye as she warned. "It doesn't matter what they name you. If you decide to live here, the girls will dress you up in goofy clothes, and Suzanne will try to put at least one tiara on your head."
The cat took the moment's opportunity to drop into what resembled a pulley-bone position and begin grooming itself, oblivious to Kate's words.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, fella," she added. The timer dinged. She rose to pull the muffins from the oven and set them to cool on the counter. She turned back to Meg. "I wish we'd had a chance to talk last night. Several things happened once you left yesterday. And I want to hear how it went with your mom and the yard clean up. Did she have any info to share?"
"A little, I think. I probably need to talk it over with you to figure out if it means anything."
"Let me wake the girls. Then I'll fill you in on my stuff, and you can tell me yours."
Meg glanced at the clock. "As much as I'd love to get the scoop, I left my boys getting ready for school. And if I don't get back there to keep them moving along, they'll risk tardy slips."
"How about we do coffee on the way to work?"
"Sounds like a plan." Meg stopped walking and turned, finger in the air. Kate knew this was the tell that said she'd just remembered something. "I'll meet you at the Colliers. I have to run errands after work so I'll drive myself. Also need to get a referral for an eye doctor for Mark. I'll start by checking with the school nurse. His grades are slipping and showing all the signs of needing glasses."
Kate shook her head. "And so it all starts, right?"
"Yep. The dentist already gave us a referral to an orthodontist for Ben."
"I'll grab coffee at Hazelight Donuts on my way," Kate said.
"Good. Grab me a blueberry donut too, please."
Just as Meg was about to exit through the back door, Kate called out. "What do I do about this guy, today?" She pointed to the cat.
"He seemed pretty house friendly last night. Where did he sleep?"
"Anywhere he wanted, I guess. I woke up ahead of the alarm with him lying on top of me."
Meg laughed. "Sounds about right. He obviously adores you." She waved away the argument Kate was gearing up to make. "Never mind. If he didn't make any messes last night while everyone was asleep, he isn't likely to do more than find a sunny window today and sleep. That's what my cats mostly do. You can put him in your garage with his litter box and food, but I really wouldn't go to the trouble."
"Should I keep a litter box downstairs, too?"
"It wouldn't hurt. He's likely been foraging for food for awhile, so his tummy could have some issues, and closer bathroom facilities are always appreciated. And make for fewer accidents."
"Garage confinement is looking better and better."
"Do whatever you think is best," Meg said, smiling. "He seems eager to please you. He might even catch that mouse you've been thinking you have."
"I know I have," Kate said, as Meg laughed again and pulled the door closed.
The rest of the hour was spent getting the girls up and fed and coaxing them closer toward the prospect of arriving on time for school. Keith made sounds a couple of times like he might be waking, too. But when the snores resumed Kate assumed he was going to stay out cold for the morning. She did close the bedroom door, so the cat had no access and couldn't wake Keith like he had her.
The cat kept pace with her as she zoomed up and down stairs. She made a second litter box out of a large box lid she lined with a trash sack. The bag of litter was in the garage, and she almost set the box out there after filling it then decided to take Meg's advice and see if the cat had any luck today discovering and disposing of her resident annoying rodent. She took a moment to introduce the cat to the small office tucked away in the corner of the lower floor and offered instructions.
"While I'm gone today, feel free to spend your day here watching for the mouse that sneaks in all the time. I don't know why he likes it in this room, except maybe because he knows I want him gone. But that's your job now. Earn your keep." She put down layers of newspaper, then set the newly made litter box on top, hoping the sight and smell of the litter would convince the cat to stick to the room. She thought about adding another food and water dish as well, but that would likely exacerbate the rodent problem she already had in the space.
Better leave it at just the litter box.
The cat followed her as she left the room. Minutes later, he continued to try to follow when they headed for the van.
"No," Kate warned, standing on the front porch and looking back inside. "You stay in the house. We'll be back later. I promise."
The cat sat on the foyer tile and used his seemingly squinting eye to give her a quizzical look. She had the feeling she needed to get used to seeing this expression.
I might even start using it myself.
Since he didn't move closer to the door, however, she took that as a good sign and shot the deadbolt with her key.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Never, Never, Never
Writing "miscellaneous" on a box you intend to sort later may sound like a good idea, but within a week you will have forgotten what is inside. Instead, sort items by specific groups, whether it's bills or light bulbs, using several boxes as necessary. However, many people do efficiently utilize the catchall "junk drawer" to good use. The concept of a junk drawer works when it contains things that really don't go with anything else but still have a purpose in the household. The items in a junk drawer should be things that will be there until the day they are used again. This drawer should never be used as miscellaneous storage for things used often and that have a place of their own if someone would just put them where they belong.
* * *
"It's all your fault we have a cat now." Kate set the donut sack and cup carrier on the only counter space not covered in boxes.
"How is it my fault?" Meg asked.
"You're the perfect mom who lets her boys have all the pets they want," Kate explained. "Then my girls want one, and I say we have to plan it out, but I get stuck looking like an organizing ogre, and everyone gangs up on me to rescue a cat who is already shedding all over my house."
"He's just settling in."
"My vacuum cleaner notified me it's going on strike," Kate groused, then smiled.
Meg laughed. "You're a good mom. Just wait and see. Suze will be offering to let you wear he
r tiara."
"After the cat takes his turn first."
"Of course." They both laughed that time.
The women had made great inroads into the Collier moving job, despite the sheer scope of the project and the delays they'd had due to Lila's death. Today they were set to wrap all the furniture assigned to ship and move any final donation items to the garage that they had previously missed. Those chores alone would take most of the day. The next day the charity folks would arrive with their truck for a pick-up. Kate and Meg would spend the whole of Thursday making sure each inventory list was completed and every packed container marked clearly and correctly. Then on Friday the moving truck was scheduled, and the big move was on.
Kate had been concerned they wouldn't have that last oversee day on Thursday, leaving her to turn over the master binder without a good double check of everything. But the extensive preplanning worked beautifully, and by having all her supplies printed and ready and easy to use and due to the great way she and Meg worked so effortlessly together, it all came out right in the end.
Still, there was one thing to consider.
"Has Gil heard anything to make it sound like Sydney isn't the chief suspect any longer?" Kate asked. "
Meg picked a blueberry donut from the bag. The pastries would serve as their stash for the day. Kate knew Meg would be on the run this morning so would likely skip lunch to hurry back to work. And besides, her partner may ask for one donut, but with an active sweet tooth and a high metabolism, one was never enough.
"No," Meg said. She broke the moist donut into two halves, the insides filled with more tiny blueberries. "But mother told me a certain bat-crazy woman we all know and despise has decided she's marked for murder and hired a bodyguard."
