“She was a firebrand,” Chloe’s grandmother admitted ruefully.
“But she outgrew it?” Edie asked.
“Ha!” Susie said. “She and Jim had only been married a short while when she decided she wanted to become a blonde. A really blond blonde. And off she headed to the drugstore, got a bottle of peroxide, and spent the afternoon bleaching her hair. Only it didn’t turn blond; it turned this hideous shade of orange. Well, Jim came home, took one look at her, and burst out laughing. Man, was she mad! So she stomped into the bathroom and whacked off every bit of hair on her head. She looked like something out of a zombie movie.”
“When she got really mad, she’d jump up and down like Rumpelstiltskin,” her mother confided, shaking her head.
“Was she on medication?” Edie asked, shocked by the idea of a grown woman jumping up and down in a temper tantrum.
Melissa bristled.
“No, honey.” Mary Rayburn shook her head, laughing. “Steph was just a little spoiled and a little volatile. Her temper was like a summer tornado, a lot of wind that blew itself out quick. If she were here now, she’d be laughing right along with us.” She glanced at Melissa.
“Folks tend to turn those they’ve lost into saints and talk only about the good. Trouble is, that would rob most of us of half the memories folks would have of us, and Steph’s no different. Thanks for reminding me of that, Edith,” Chloe’s grandfather said.
“Edie,” she said.
“Edie.”
“Come on, Edie.” Chloe reappeared beside her, grabbing her hand and tugging. “You gotta play freeze tag. You gotta. It’s my birthday.”
“All right,” she said, relieved. No matter how nice the Rayburns seemed, no matter how pleasant and accepting Jim’s sister Susie appeared to be, Edie was navigating a minefield on unfamiliar terrain and had the distinct impression she had almost set off an explosion more than once.
“It was nice to have met you,” she said.
“Smile,” Chloe whispered.
She smiled.
Two hours later, Edie’s head was swimming. She had learned to play freeze tag and had won several games, discovering to her surprise that she was rather adept at feinting and dodging. She had eaten several hamburgers at Jim and Chloe’s urging and been introduced to a dizzying array of family members whose names she was using all her mnemonic skills to learn. She hadn’t spent this much time amongst this many strangers since the Genome Convention of 2007. As interesting and unique an experience as it was, it was also exhausting.
Jim was attentive, but he did not hover, though often she would catch him watching her from across the lawn, a slight smile on his well-formed lips and unreserved warmth in his startlingly blue eyes. For this she was grateful. She was already self-conscious enough without worrying that he was grading her performance. Indeed, he acted as if her presence here were the most natural thing in the world, an attitude Chloe apparently shared if evidenced by the way she kept dodging in and out of her periphery. Edie wished she could feel the same. But she could not quite lose the feeling that she was an odd fish amongst fowl.
She decided to take a few minutes to herself to regroup and was headed toward the house in search of a glass of water when she heard Melissa’s voice coming from the open kitchen window. “Dr. Handelman. Full of herself much?”
She stopped. She didn’t think she could have moved if she’d tried; the ridicule in Melissa’s voice froze her. A woman she could not identify murmured a reply.
“Ha! You’re not serious. Of course not. She’s just another one of Jim’s little projects.”
Despite loathing herself for it, she strained to hear the reply. “Chloe likes her.”
“I know, and that’s what really pisses me off,” Melissa said. “She might come across as harmless, but she’s not above using Chloe to get Jim—as if that hasn’t been tried before. Jim’s wise to that game, but poor little Chloe doesn’t realize ‘Edie’ is just playing mommy so Jim will play daddy. It’s downright vile.”
“Don’t you think . . .” The other woman must have turned as she spoke, for the rest of her words grew muffled.
“No. No and no. Trust me. It’s a flash in the pan. Come on. Can you think of any way that woman could be more different from Steph? She’s the anti-Steph, scrawny, mousy, and stuck-up.”
The other speaker made an unintelligible reply. “Did you catch the sundress?” Melissa’s voice had risen. “Yegads. With Jim’s looks and personality, he should be dating supermodels, not Ugly Betty. She doesn’t belong with him—or here.”
“Enough, Melissa,” the other female replied. “You’re Jim’s older sister, not his Jewish mother.”
Edith hid—there was no other word for it—for half an hour, the wounding words playing again and again in her mind.
She doesn’t belong.
But she’d known that, hadn’t she? She’d told herself that exact same thing on the way over. She’d always known that suburban backyard barbecues were not part of her future. Nor big families. Nor children. Nor a man like Jim. So then why did hearing it from someone else hurt so very, very badly? It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was to try to end this with as much dignity as possible.
She needed to leave.
She found Jim in the backyard.
“There you are!” he said, his face lighting up. “Where’d you go to? I’ve been looking everywhere. The gift opening is about to commence, and I thought we’d better fortify ourselves for the marathon event.”
“I’ve called a taxi. It’ll be here in a few minutes,” Edie said.
“What? Why?” Jim asked, raking his hair back from his forehead.
“I have a migraine. I am prone to them.”
“Geez,” he said, concern filling his voice. “I’m sorry, but you don’t need a taxi. I’ll take you home.”
“No,” she said. “It’s Chloe’s birthday party and you can’t leave.”
“I’ll come back.” His brows were drawn together, lowering over his brilliant blue eyes. He scanned her face, trying to read her expression. She wouldn’t let him. She did not want to ruin any part of this day for Chloe.
“No. You said they were about to start opening presents, and you know how incapable Chloe is of delaying gratification. She’d be disappointed if you weren’t here. That’s why I called a taxi. You stay here with your daughter.”
“She’ll be disappointed if you’re not here. You know she will. She loves you.”
She flinched at the reminder of Melissa’s accusation that she had embroiled herself in Chloe’s affections. “I’ve already spoken with her. Her excitement over her presents has served to mitigate a great deal of her disappointment over my early departure.”
“What’s wrong, Edie?” he asked, taking both her hands in his. They felt strong and warm and certain, and she didn’t want to let them go. She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t fallen in love with him and then gone on to use his daughter to attempt to secure his affection but that it had been the reverse; she had fallen in love with Chloe and then him. But she didn’t. Because . . . she didn’t belong here.
“Nothing.”
“Something’s up. Something’s wrong.”
“My head hurts and conversation is painful. I really would like to go home and lie down.”
At once he was all solicitude, wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulder and guiding her toward the house. “I’m sorry, Edie. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” As if he ever could be. “I’m just disappointed. Everything was going . . . beautifully.”
“I’m disappointed, too,” she murmured.
A horn beeped sharply from the front of the house. She broke free of his half embrace and hurried away, pausing at the corner to turn and look back. His brows were furrowed again, the sun glinting off his black Irish curls and slanting a shadow beneath his hard jawline.
“Good-bye, Jim.”
Chapter 9
“You still have a fever, Chloe, you didn’t sleep well last
night, and you’ve been up since five. You have to take a nap.”
“I don’t want to!” Chloe insisted for the third time.
On one hand, Jim welcomed the defiance; it meant she was definitely on the mend after being down with a cold for the past few days. On the other hand, she was really testing him.
“You promised we could go see Edie!” she shouted, then added, “And Ishy-Pixie.” She paused. “And Divaz.” Divaz was the name she’d given the albino kitten, the contender for her heart against Ishy-Pixie’s elusive but undeniable magic “And Edie!” she finished, just in case Jim hadn’t understood the real heart of her grievance.
He did: Chloe wanted to see Edie. And that was the problem. Edie had gone missing in action. He hadn’t seen her since Chloe’s birthday party last weekend. She hadn’t answered his calls on Sunday, and on Monday she’d been away at staff meetings all day. Monday after work he and Chloe had walked down the street to Cupid Cats, but when they’d entered, they’d been informed by a bewildered-looking Carol that Edie had just taken off on some mysterious errand. She hadn’t returned while they’d been there, even though he’d dawdled at the place for more than an hour and still had the cat hair on his slacks to prove it.
Tuesday he’d been out of the office on business, and that evening had been a repeat of the previous one. And she still wasn’t picking up her phone. He’d even gone so far as to drive past her apartment, but when he’d rung through on the security phone, she hadn’t answered. Then on Wednesday, Chloe had woken with sniffles and a low-grade fever, and he’d taken the last three days off work to care for her.
“You saw Ishy-Pixie and Divaz on Tuesday, toots.” Tuesday was an eternity ago to a six-year-old. Ishy-Pixie hadn’t been looking too good then, either. Jim hoped the cat would last until Chloe had been won over by Divaz’s pink-eyed charms.
“But not Edie,” Chloe said, glaring at him accusingly. “I haven’t seen her in forever! Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” And he would dearly love to. Had he been too inattentive at Chloe’s birthday party? He hadn’t wanted to make her self-conscious with his attention, so he’d purposefully hung back, even though he’d want to take her hand, wrap his arm around her slender waist, keep her close just because he liked being near her so much. He loved being near her. And he missed her. God, how he missed her.
Maybe she’d been overwhelmed by his family. She was a shy woman and the Currans were loud, raucous, and pushy enough to intimidate even the most outgoing person. But she had seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes had been sparkling, her face tanned by the sun, her smile open and frequent. He would have staked his life on it—or his heart.
In fact, he had.
“Please, Daddy?”
He looked down. Chloe had secured his hand and was tugging at it insistently. He knelt down beside her. “Chloe, you were coughing all last night. There are circles under your eyes that would make a raccoon green with envy, and you still have a fever. I’m sorry but no. You have to take a nap. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I hate naps,” Chloe said, her lower lip quivering. “Only babies take naps, and you made me take one yesterday.”
“Sick people take naps, too.”
“I’m not sick anymore,” she insisted, and then, to put lie to the statement, wiped the back of her hand across a gooey nose and sniffed.
“Chloe . . .”
“If we can’t go see Edie, can I go outside and play with Barnaby B?”
Chloe had discovered the neighbor’s boy, Barnaby B. Bigg, last week. He lived three houses down and had one blue eye and one brown eye. His daughter had a thing for strange eyes. Jim half expected an engagement announcement any day now. “Not this morning. This afternoon you’re taking a nap.”
“Uh-uh.” Chloe shook her head violently.
“If you keep this up, you won’t be seeing anyone either today or tomorrow. I mean it, Chloe. The discussion’s over. Now let’s get you into bed.”
“You’re mean! I hate you!” With an angry stomp Chloe tore her hand free of Jim’s and wheeled around, stomping angrily down the hall, each small boom of her foot announcing her displeasure until she reached her room. Without looking back, she slammed the door shut.
An angry little roar issued from behind the closed door, replete with frustration and exhaustion, followed by wet-sounding snuffles and sobs. Jim listened. The sobs grew muffled, as if she’d turned her face to her pillow. At least she was lying down. Jim relaxed and headed into the kitchen, dropping onto the stool by the breakfast bar and pouring himself a cup of coffee from the Thermos carafe he’d filled that morning.
He eyed the cordless phone in its cradle. He could try calling Edie at the shelter. He assumed she would be there, as it was Saturday; however, Carol always answered, and she’d just return with the message that Edie would call back. And then she wouldn’t. He could go to her apartment again. Damn. He wasn’t going to start stalking her—start? He braced his forehead in his hand. He had to talk to her. He had to know what had gone wrong so he could make it right.
Chloe Curran stood at the street corner feeling very brave and a little frightened. This was the farthest she’d ever gone from her new house by herself. She looked both ways even though she didn’t have to cross against the traffic. Her path took her across the residential street and then past the older five houses that stood between her and Cupid Cats.
The child had never done anything so bold before, and had she understood the fear her act would inspire in her father, she might not have done so now. Then again, she may well have continued on her course. Her sense of justice was acute and to her, because a promise had been broken, any acts of rebellion were justified. Still, she hesitated, considering returning to her house before her father discovered her absence, but just as she was about to turn back, a form in the size and shape of an old and tiny ginger-colored cat flashed around the corner of the house in front of which she stood and disappeared into the nearby rosebushes.
Chloe started forward, all thoughts of returning gone because the cat looked exactly like the one that had inspired this perhaps ill-considered journey.
She reached the rosebushes and leaned over, peering beneath the thicket of cool, brambly shadows. Far back, just out of reach, she made out a pair of glittering eyes.
“Ishy-Pixie?” she called softly.
In answer, the figure darted from beneath the bushes and dashed across the lawn between the houses, heading in the direction of the shelter. Chloe snapped upright, going a little light-headed with the abrupt motion. Squinting against the sun, she tried to see if the cat was indeed Ishy-Pixie. All she saw was a feline shape standing by the front porch steps of the next house down. The cat seemed to Chloe to be looking at her—waiting for her.
She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand and followed the cat across the lawn, moving slowly, because in her experience Ishy-Pixie did not like abrupt movements. But every time she drew within a dozen feet of the animal, it moved on, disappearing beneath shrubs or stairs, around a tree or behind a fence, leading her on, always in the shadow or in the direct line of the sun so that Chloe never got a good look to see whether or not the cat was indeed her old, old friend.
If it was Ishy-Pixie, she had never been so light and quick. And why would she be out here when Edie had said she never left the building? It was too much of a mystery for Chloe to resist, and she didn’t try. The cat disappeared into the backyard of the house next door to Cupid Cats, and Chloe followed her into the alley behind the shelter. The cat was gone; yet the fire door that Edie always kept locked was slightly, ever so slightly ajar, although not widely enough for a cat, even one as small and finely built as Ishy-Pixie, to enter.
Chloe pushed the door open and slipped inside, looking around. After all, this had been her intended destination from the beginning. Inside, it was silent. The door to the Meet and Greet room stood open, but all the other doors were shut.
She started forward, intending to find Edie . . . but a
s she moved, the enormity of her transgression dawned on her. Her daddy would be very, very angry. Edie might even be angry. The righteous indignation that had bolstered the spirit of her rebellion had faded by now, and the walk in the hot sun had left her feeling tired and a little dizzy and sticky.
She wavered uncertainly, and her glance chanced to fall inside the Meet and Greet room, or what little of it she could see, where she saw a little shadow flitting across the wall. She edged forward and looked inside. Ishy-Pixie lay in the very center of the old battered couch, her paws all neatly tucked beneath her, her head up. As soon as she saw Chloe, she stood up and trilled a greeting.
Charmed, Chloe went to her and sat down beside her. She petted the little animal. Her fur was cool and silky, not even the least bit warm, and while consciously Chloe did not recognize the importance of that, at some level she understood that this cat had not been the one she’d followed or she would have been sun-warmed. Besides, the crack that the door had been opened hadn’t been big enough for a cat to pass through.
The cat climbed into her lap and settled right in, and Chloe eased herself down beside her, carefully curling her body around that of the ginger-colored cat in a little nest. It was quiet here, and the gentle hum of the air conditioner couldn’t quite dispel the soft warmth pouring in from the window. Chloe’s eyelids drifted half closed, fluttered shut, opened briefly, then drifted closed again as she finally heeded her father’s direction and took a nap.
A woman’s voice nudged her toward wakefulness. “Hello, my old sweetheart. It’s time to come home to me.” It was a light voice, unfamiliar to Chloe but attractive. She felt Ishy-Pixie get up and leap lightly off the couch.
Drowsily, she opened her eyes. A woman, backlit by the door, stood next to the couch. She was tall, but other than the shimmer of light on blond hair, Chloe couldn’t see much of her features. In her arms, Chloe could just make out Ishy-Pixie, her legs moving up on the woman’s shoulder. She bumped her head against the woman’s chin, purring loudly.
Cupid Cats Page 20
