by Patricia Fry
Rob tilted his head. "That's the idea." He frowned at Margaret. "Did you think we were some fly-by-night outfit?"
"Uh... well... " Margaret started.
Rob put his hand on her shoulder. "That's okay, Maggie. I'm glad we impressed you."
"Very much," she said, a little sheepishly.
"I can see this on one of those animal programs," Iris said. "It's so... well done. Good job, Rob."
"Thanks guys," he said. He looked around at the milling crowd, then addressed Savannah and Michael. "So are you ready for what comes next?"
"What's that?" Savannah asked.
Rob grinned. "You'll see."
Just then a middle-aged woman hurriedly approached them. She put one hand on Savannah's arm. "You've gotta tell me how you trained your cat to do all of that stuff."
Before she could respond, a couple joined them. The twenty-something woman looked at her companion and then at Savannah. "We have a bet. He says that was all staged for the film—the cat didn't really do that stuff." She narrowed her eyes. "It was real, wasn't it?"
Savannah nodded. "It was real. Rags really does all that stuff."
"That and more," Margaret said. "He's always in some kind of trouble."
"Or helping someone out," Savannah said in his defense.
The woman poked her companion in the chest with her finger. "I told you. Cats are smart and clever!"
He shook his head. "Hard to believe. Now if it was a dog, maybe... "
The young woman leaned in and confided. "He wants to marry me, but how can I even consider living with someone who doesn't appreciate the feline mystique?"
"Don't even think about it," Savannah advised. "Doesn't sound like a marriage made in heaven."
"Will we get to meet the cat?" another woman asked over the din in the large gallery.
"Yes, he's here some place," Michael said. "I think they're bringing him down to greet everyone." He looked around briefly and added, "Here he comes, now."
As if on cue, Rupert walked up to Savannah and Michael carrying Rags. "Please come with me," he invited. "Mr. Peyton wants him over here." He led the couple across the room to a small carpeted stage set up with a padded stool for Rags and chairs on either side for Savannah and Michael. Rupert looped the end of Rags's leash under one leg of Michael's chair. "Just in case he tries to slip away," he explained.
"Good idea," Savannah said. "He can be wily, that's for sure." She glanced around and noticed that some of the others in their party had followed them to the stage area. She started to speak to her aunt when someone shouted, "There he is! It's Rags!"
"Yikes, are you going to be mobbed?" Margaret asked quietly. "I thought this would be a more sophisticated audience."
Max chuckled. "Looks like you've got some groupies."
Once Savannah and Michael were seated, Cheryl walked up and handed them each a stack of programs and a couple of pens, saying, "People will want your autographs."
She motioned for Margaret and Craig to move closer to the stage. "You, too."
Margaret looked confused. "Us too what?"
"People may want you to autograph their programs. Here are extras in case you need them." She slid two chairs close to the platform. "You can sit here."
Margaret looked at Craig and then back at Max and Iris, who stood by egging their spouses on.
****
An hour had passed when Rob approached the two couples and said, "Well, I think that's all. Golly, you were flat-out bombarded, weren't you?"
"I have writer's cramp," Margaret complained.
Craig laughed. "I never heard so many stories about cats. Everyone has a story, don't they?"
"Yes, people do like talking about their pets," Margaret agreed. She nudged Craig playfully. "I heard you telling stories about your cute kitty, Tommy."
His smile widened. "Yeah, I guess I did talk about him, didn't I? I saw you showing pictures of your cats."
"Guilty," Margaret said. "... just happened to have them in my pocket."
"Good job, everyone," Charles Peyton said enthusiastically as he approached the others. He held his hand out to Rob. "Congratulations! I think your show was a success."
"Yes, it seemed to be well-received," he agreed, shaking the man's hand. "There are a couple of pet-supply people who want to meet with us."
Charles had news to share, too. "I was just chatting with a TV producer. He's eager to talk to his people about this film." Just then, Charles peered around Rob and asked, "Hey, where's the cat?"
Savannah glanced at the padded stool. Empty. She gasped, then relaxed a little and said, "Oh, I'll bet Michael has him. The leash was looped under the leg of his chair. He went to get us something to drink; he must have taken the cat with him."
Before Rob could respond, Peter and Rochelle approached. "That was spectacular," Peter
said, smiling.
"Amazing," Rochelle said. "He really is fascinating. I have only one complaint."
"What?" Savannah and Rob asked in unison.
"I wanted more," she said beseechingly. "I didn't want the film to end."
Peter chuckled and said to Savannah, "Hey, we have to go. I wanted to tell you and Michael goodbye; we may not see you again before you leave. When are you going home?"
"Tomorrow," she said. "Michael should be right back—here he comes." She frowned. "But where's the cat? Michael," she called, "I thought you had Rags."
"Why would I take the cat to get us beverages?" he asked.
"Well he's gone," she said. "How could he pull his leash loose by himself?" She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my gosh, do you think someone took him?"
Michael studied the chair where he'd been sitting and grimaced. "I may have accidently moved the chair off the leash. He's probably mingling," he said, setting the drinks down on a small table next to the remaining programs. "Let's go look for him; he can't have gone far."
Peter reached his hand out to Michael. "Before you go, I want to say goodbye."
"Hey, thank you guys for coming! It was great seeing you again. Stay in touch, will you?"
Peter winked. "I will if you will."
****
Margaret and Max had been involved in a lengthy conversation with a representative from a pet-supply conglomerate whom they'd met at a conference, when Margaret glanced up and saw Savannah frantically darting through the room. She excused herself. "Vannie, what's wrong?"
Savannah whispered, "We can't find Rags."
"What?" Margaret asked. "Not again... Where do you think he went?"
"If I knew, I'd look there," she snapped. "Rupert helped us look through the house. I'm getting ready to go outside and call for him."
"Where's Michael?"
"He's in the front yard. Rupert's with him, I think." She grasped her aunt's arm. "Come with me, will you?"
"Oh Vannie, I don't know. I'm having such a nice time and it's so warm in here—well, except for the cool air coming in through those big French doors."
"Exactly," Savannah said. "Big open doors, leading to the big outdoors. Auntie, I'm scared to death he got out—or someone took off with him. Won't you help me look for him?" "All right," Margaret said, letting out a long sigh. "Where do you want to start?"
"Just follow me," Savannah said, leading the way out to a large patio. Within a few minutes, the two women found themselves walking across an expanse of lawn. "Dang, my heels keep sinking into the wet grass," Savannah said. She looked back at the mansion. "You know, most of the guests have left. I think I'll change my shoes and get a jacket."
"Me too. I don't want to ruin my new elevator shoes the first time out," Margaret said. She looked around. "You know, I'm going to put on my jeans; who knows where the search will take us?"
Savannah thought about it. "I hope not far. Darn cat. Yes, jeans is a good idea." They walked as fast as they could toward their bungalows. "Now hurry, Auntie; I don't want him to get too far awa
y from us," Savannah said. "Gosh, I wish I knew where he went."
"Come on Savannah, you couldn't lose that cat if you tried. He'll probably come be-bopping back here before you've unzipped that sparkly dress."
"Is he back?" Savannah asked her aunt when they met on the deck outside her bungalow a few minutes later.
"I haven't seen him."
"Well, watch for him." She glanced out into the darkness. "I'm going to get our flashlight out of the car."
Margaret winced when she saw the dim glow of the flashlight. "It's not very bright, Vannie."
"I know. But we aren't going far. At least it works. It'll be fine," Savannah assured her. "Rags!" she called. "Rags, come here, boy. Come on Rags, kitty, kitty, kitty!!"
"The fog's coming in," Margaret observed as they continued walking into the darkness. "Glad I brought my jacket."
"Glad I wore my tennies and socks," Savanna said. "It's kinda soggy out here."
"Yeah, I don't like this. Maybe we should go back and look for him in the morning."
"Wait, what's that?" Savannah shouted.
"What? I don't see anything."
"That shiny thing. See?" Savannah said, holding the flashlight steady on an object some distance in front of them. She walked swiftly toward it and exclaimed, somewhat hysterically "Oh my gosh! Rags!"
Chapter 5
"You found him?" Margaret asked breathlessly as she made her way through the waterlogged marsh grass to where her niece stood.
"Well, I thought so... but no, dang it," she said, reaching down and picking up something off the ground. "It's his new harness!" she exclaimed, examining it. "We're obviously on the right track, but how did he get it off?" She shined the flashlight around the area. "And where's the leash?"
"Is it cut? Are there teeth marks on it?" Margaret asked, shuddering.
"Teeth marks?"
"Well, yeah, a wild animal could have gotten him."
Savannah looked at her aunt, fear in her eyes. She handed Margaret the flashlight. "Aim it over here," she said, taking the harness in both hands and examining it more closely. "It isn't chewed or broken. The buckle's undone." She looked around and whispered, "Auntie, someone took it off him. Rags must be out here somewhere." She took a few steps forward. "Come on, let's keep looking."
Margaret let out a deep sigh. "I don't know, Vannie."
"You don't know what?"
"How we'd ever find him out here."
"Well, you know Rags; he'll probably find us. We'll just keep calling him."
****
Nearly thirty minutes had passed when Margaret said, "It's hopeless, Vannie. Can't we go back? I'm tired and cold."
"Yes, I am too; it's miserable out here, and my feet are soaking wet, but we have to find Rags. We can't leave him out here. She glanced around the horizon. "Oh no!" she exclaimed.
"What now?" Margaret asked, already wishing she hadn't.
Savannah's voice quivered. "Auntie, I don't know where we are."
Margaret looked quickly in all directions, her eyes wide. "Damn. The fog has really come in thick. It's like pea soup." Her voice became shrill. "I can't see a thing." She grabbed Savannah's arm. "What are we going to do? How will we get back? We can't even see the damn castle."
"First of all, we have to stay calm," Savannah said, not sounding calm at all.
Margaret loosened her grip on her niece's jacket. "You're right. Let's think logically." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay now, we've been walking the whole time in this direction, so the mansion has to be right behind us—that way," she pointed. "... I think."
Savannah stood perfectly still for a few moments and then pointed off to the right. "I'm pretty sure it's that way. I think I hear the ocean behind us. That means the mansion is that direction."
Margaret cocked her head and listened intently. "I don't think that's the ocean, Vannie. That's wind blowing through those trees we can see during the day."
"We haven't walked that far, have we?" Savannah asked, her voice becoming shrill with fright. "Those trees looked to be miles away from the mansion."
"Listen carefully," Margaret said. "That ocean sound you heard is rustling leaves, I tell you... and that means we've gone past the point of no return."
"What are you talking about?"
"There's no way in hell we can get back to the mansion in the dark and in this fog with no light!" she shouted. "... and no damn compass."
"We do, too, have a light," Savannah insisted. She looked at the dim glow still emitting from the flashlight, shook it a few times, and let out a sigh. She choked up a little. "We've done it again, haven't we?"
"What?" Margaret asked.
"We've gotten ourselves in a horrible pickle."
"If you weren't so damned adventurous, Vannie... " Margaret started.
"Me, adventurous?" she spat.
"Yeah, you and that misfit cat of yours... " She stamped her feet. "Damn! Damn! Damn!!"
"Feel better?" Savannah asked after a brief pause; a hint of a grin showing through her tears.
"No," Margaret said, emphatically. "I'm still cold and tired."
"Look at the bright side," Savannah said softly.
"Bright side? Are you out of your mind? What bright side?"
"You didn't wear your new shoes out here." Before Margaret could respond, Savannah grimaced, saying, "I guess we'd better call our husbands. Can you imagine how angry they'll be at us?" She reached for her phone and realized it wasn't in her back pocket where she usually carried it when she went anyplace without her purse. Panicked, she checked her other pockets. "Darn, did I lose it or forget to pick it up?" she asked, talking more to herself than to her aunt. She held her hand out to Margaret. "Give me your phone."
"I already thought about that, Vannie," she said quietly. "I don't have it."
"What? We came out here without a phone?" Savannah said. She dropped her head. "I don't believe this."
"Well, we didn't know we'd be hiking to the other side of the planet," Margaret complained, "... on a foggy night... in the dark... "
"Okay then," Savannah said, "we'll go to plan B. If we're lost, we might as well keep going. I just have to find Rags. Rags!" she called. "Here kitty? Come on big boy... "
"You don't even know if he's out here, Vannie."
Savannah turned to her aunt and insisted, "Why would his new harness be out here if he didn't wear it out here?"
"To throw us off his trail?"
"Are you saying Rags masterminded an elaborate plan to escape?"
Margaret looked up at Savannah with a smirk. "Sure. Maybe it's a publicity stunt." She sounded more serious when she said, "There were a lot of people interested in him tonight. Someone could have gotten their hands on him... " Suddenly, she grabbed Savannah's arm. "What was that?"
"What? Where?" Savannah asked, shining the faint light in the direction her aunt pointed. "Maybe it's a cat."
"Sounds too big to be a cat," Margaret whispered.
"Well, I'm going to take a look," Savannah said, holding the flashlight out in front of her and walking cautiously toward the sound. Margaret reluctantly followed close behind.
When Savannah stopped, Margaret whispered, "Is it Rags?"
"I'm not sure. Get down," she said quietly.
"There!" Margaret said, pointing excitedly. "It's Rags. I know it. That's him. I saw the white on his chest. He ran into that bush."
"Rags," Savannah called. "Come on, boy." Suddenly, she grabbed Margaret's jacket sleeve. "Auntie, did you hear that?" she whispered, struggling to calm her voice.
"I'd have to be deaf not to," she whispered. "What is it?"
"I don't know. I hope it's Rags."
"Shhhh. There it is again. I think someone's out there. Turn off that damn flashlight," Margaret whispered. "It's no good, anyway." She took a deep breath and cocked her head. "Yeah, Vannie, I think that is a cat—a large and clumsy cat. He'd never run
away from you, Vannie. Call to him again. Maybe he'll come."
"Rags," Savannah called out in a loud whisper. "Rags, are you out there?"
The two women remained crouched, listening and watching. "There," Margaret said, grabbing the flashlight and aiming it out in front of her.
"Where?"
Margaret continued to aim the flashlight. "Dang, it's gone."
"I don't think that was a cat. It looked more like a raccoon or beaver."
Margaret slapped the side of the flashlight. "Drats! Dang thing's running out of juice fast."
"At least we're out of the mushy grass," Savannah said. "The ground here under these trees is relatively dry, but it's hard to walk because of the debris and rocks."
"Are you saying we should keep going in this direction?"
"Seems more promising than trying to navigate the marshland in the dark, don't you think?"
"I'm beyond thinking, I'm so cold and tired," Margaret grumbled. "Maybe we should lie down and sleep on this dry ground and wait until daylight to decide what to do." Then she whispered loudly, "Listen. There's something in the reeds back there." She shined the light and took a few steps in that direction calling, "Rags? Kitty, kitty."
"Wait," Savannah pleaded as she saw her aunt disappear into the mist. My gosh, she's hallucinating. What's she doing heading out by herself like that? I'd better go catch up to her. We sure don't want to get separated. "Auntie, where are you?" she called.
"Oh, my God," Margaret said.
"What?" Savannah hissed. "Where are you?" What she heard next caused her to freeze in her tracks.
Kerwhack! Thud
Chapter 6
In the meantime, back at the mansion Michael and Max waited and worried. "Where the hell could they be?" Michael asked again as he paced back and forth on the deck outside their bungalow.
"Rupert is sure he saw them walk off in that direction," Max pointed. He shook his head slowly. "Why would they go out into the marsh like that? A cat's not going to walk around in swamp land."
Michael stopped pacing. "You never know about Rags—he actually likes getting his feet wet. But I haven't known him to wander into the wilderness. He usually stays close to populated areas." He ran his hands through his hair. "This is just too weird. I can't imagine those two staying out in the cold and dark for this long, unless... "
