by Mary Angela
“He’s my cat. I’ll go.”
He gave her a sideways glance, the binoculars never leaving his face. “This is what I do, Zo. For once in your life, trust me.”
He was a trained professional, an expert on the national park. But deep in her heart, she didn’t know if she could do what he asked. George meant everything to her. If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. And the truth was, people had a history of letting her down.
“Please.” He touched her arm with his free hand. “We don’t have time.”
Max had a better chance of rescuing George, and George liked him. He wouldn’t resist. Zo nodded her assent before she could take it back, and he was off.
While Max scaled the stony cliff, Justin Castle arrived with his camera crew. One of the participants had posted a picture of the scene on social media, and spotting it, he came running. Any trouble in town got him excited—and kept him in business. He looked on the scene giddily, like a child in a store window. In a quiet town of ten thousand people, he was thrilled to have something to report for the six o’clock news.
Zo kept her distance, instead gathering with the women in the group. Never had she been so grateful to be surrounded by positive energy. They put away their plans for the afternoon and their journal exercises. They watched and prayed as Max closed in on the waterfall. No one mentioned getting back.
The terrain was rocky and slick from the water, but Max was experienced and knew where to step. He was sure-footed and careful. Through the binoculars, Zo could see the flex of his muscles as he climbed. If only he could climb faster. She was worried George would dart away before he could get to him.
Max’s movement drew attention from the red-tailed hawk, its head turning sharply. The bird zeroed in on George. Though George was a large cat, hawks were strong. They were carnivores and could carry up to sixty pounds in their talons. Small animals, including cats, dogs, and foxes, weren’t safe from their hooks. But from this angle, Zo didn’t think the hawk could get to George. He could attack him, though, and hawks were very territorial. Even with Max approaching, the bird might make a move.
“That bird isn’t going to—” started one woman. She covered her mouth before she finished.
“Why doesn’t the ranger scare it away?” said another group member.
“He can’t.” Zo understood the predicament. “The noise might startle George. He doesn’t want him to run.”
“How will he get him down from there?”
Zo shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that same question.” The climb was tricky without George. With a furry, frightened, sharp-clawed cat? She couldn’t even imagine what to do. What if George was hurt? What if he wouldn’t let Max carry him? What if—God forbid—Max dropped him?
Zo’s mouth began to water and her armpits sweat. Then the shaking started. One of the women took the binoculars from her.
“Don’t worry,” the woman said. “He’s got this. I know he does. He’s almost there.”
Zo nodded. Even through the panic, she could see he was getting close. The problem was the hawk was closer, too. It swooped to the ridge near George. She covered her eyes.
After a long moment, the hiker said, “He’s there!”
Zo took back the binoculars. Max hovered near George, checking him over carefully. The seconds ticked past like hours. Max gave a thumb’s up sign, and the group cheered. Zo released a breath. George was safe.
Max removed gloves and a folded canvas sack out of his backpack. It took Zo a moment to realize his next move. He would have to put George in the sack to transport him. George wasn’t going to like that. Zo worried he’d resist. But he must have been too frightened to fight, because Max had him in the sack within a few seconds. Max climbed to the top of the waterfall, where he was soon met by a ranger in a four-wheeler.
Zo’s phone rang. It was Max.
“I’m taking him to the animal hospital to be checked out,” said Max. “You get the group back to Happy Camper. Call me when you get there.”
“He’s okay though?” Zo asked.
“Let’s make sure.” A pause on the line. “He’s fine as far as I can see.”
Zo heard a meow.
“He doesn’t like being in this bag,” said Max, “but he hasn’t lost any strength.”
George might not like being confined, but they were only minutes from town. He would make it. With her hands still shaking, Zo hoped she would. “I don’t know how to thank you.” The words caught in her throat.
“It was no problem,” said Max. “Really. I’m just glad he’s all right. You’re okay to get back to the store?”
Zo swallowed. “Of course. I’ll have Harley do the scrapbook session and meet you at the vet’s.”
“Darn it,” said Max. “I won’t be able to show off my glue gun skills. I’ve been practicing.”
“That’s okay,” said Zo. “I have a feeling you’ll get another chance.”
Chapter Seventeen
Justin Castle stopped Zo on her way back to the trail. Like a boulder on the path, he was an obstacle to overcome. Dressed in a snappy sweater vest and jacket, he was better looking than a boulder, but a boulder all the same. With his cameraman recording, he asked what her cat was doing so far from home and if she planned on reimbursing the town for the use of governmental resources. He blinked, waiting for an answer.
“If by governmental resources you mean Max, I’m happy to pay him for his time,” said Zo. “But he was participating in the Harvest Hike. He wasn’t on the clock.”
“Servants of the law are always on the clock, Ms. Jones.” He took a short bow. “As am I.”
“How sad for you,” said a group member.
“And me,” muttered Zo. She wanted Max’s heroic action covered on the news, but Justin always had to spin his stories, to make them more controversial than they were. Max had rescued her cat, plain and simple. By the time the rescue aired on the evening news, the story would be entirely different.
They started back for Happy Camper, leaving Justin to glare at their backs. Zo assured the group they didn’t need to hurry, but concern must have still been written on her face. They wouldn’t hear of stopping and zipped through the woods at a breakneck pace without so much as a water break.
Luckily Sunday afternoons were slow, and Harley said she could take over the scrapbook project without any trouble. Zo gave each of the hikers a free Happy Camper water bottle for their kindness. Then she grabbed her cat carrier and hurried off to meet Max at the pet hospital.
He and George were in Exam Room 1 with the veterinarian. When Zo opened the door and spotted George sitting on the counter, her emotions broke again.
“George! Are you okay?” She tossed the cat carrier on the floor.
“Other than a little overweight, he’s just fine,” said Dr. Iron Cloud with a chuckle. He took a step back from the counter, sliding his glasses to his forehead.
Zo picked up George and hugged him to her chest. He didn’t bite or scratch her. Maybe he was too surprised at her reaction, or maybe he was relieved she was there. “How did you get so far from home?” The only answer was a muffled meow. Very un-George-like. She put him back on the counter.
“A big cat like this?” said Dr. Iron Cloud. “The wanderlust doesn’t surprise me. He’s not the kind to stay indoors. Max told me he was near the waterfall.”
Too worried about George, Zo hadn’t noticed him there. Max was sitting calmly in the corner chair. Her eyes flew to his with appreciation. “Max saved him. Did he tell you that?”
“He didn’t have to.” The doctor petted George’s head. “It’s not the first animal he’s rescued, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. He’s a regular hero in my book.”
“Mine, too.”
Standing, Max waved away the compliments. “Thanks, you guys, but I was just doi
ng my job.”
Dr. Iron Cloud turned to Zo. “Everything looks good, so you’re free to take him. If anything changes, though, bring him back.”
“Thank you.” After the doctor shut the door, she gave Max a hug. “And thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”
“You would have climbed up the cliff and rescued him yourself,” said Max with a laugh.
“That was my plan, but I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I froze. I think I had a panic attack.” Recalling the moment made her shiver.
Still holding her, he rubbed the sides of her arms. “It’s okay. It happens. I’m just glad I was there to help.” He pulled back, a smile on his face. “Makes you wonder if having a guide along for every hike would be a good idea…”
A chuckle bubbled to her lips. “Let’s not get carried away. Help me get George into the carrier.”
“That carrier?” he said.
“It was the biggest one they had.” Zo opened the door. She could handle the carrier if Max could handle George.
In one fluid motion, Max had him into the crate. Orange fur stuck out of the holes, but it couldn’t be helped. He was big and hairy. George’s meow was back to normal as she hauled him to the front desk, where she paid the bill.
“Do you want to come to my house for a cup of tea?” she asked, tucking away her wallet. “I could use one after the day I’ve had.”
“Unless you need help with George, I promised Duncan I’d stop by Buffalo Bill’s. He’s playing with a Rascal Flatts cover band.” He raised his sandy brown eyebrows. “You’re welcome to join me.”
She bit back a smile. “A tempting offer, but I don’t want to leave George alone.”
“I understand.” He walked her to her car. “I would rather get a tooth pulled than listen to Duncan play another song. But I feel bad for the guy. I couldn’t say no.”
“You’re too nice, Max.” She slid the cat carrier into the seat beside her.
“You know, I get that a lot.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She buckled her seatbelt. “See you tomorrow.”
Harley was locking up for the evening when Zo pulled into Happy Camper a few minutes later. Zo heard the telltale click after she shut off the engine. She couldn’t believe how late it was.
“How did the scrapbooking go?” Zo called out. She grabbed George’s crate from the passenger seat.
“They loved it.” Harley approached Zo’s Subaru Outback. “They asked what you had planned for Christmas.”
“I need to figure that out—soon. My column is due Friday. That’s my official deadline.”
Harley stuck a finger in George’s crate. “So here’s the big guy causing all the problems.”
George growled.
“He needs to rest,” explained Zo. It surprised her how quickly she’d make excuses for her cat. She wondered if mothers felt the same inclination.
“He needs something,” mumbled Harley, who was not a cat person. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You don’t have class?” asked Zo. She was usually alone on Mondays.
“It’s fall break, remember?” Harley slipped on the army jacket tied at her waist. “I don’t go back until Wednesday.”
That’s right. There was no school on Monday or Tuesday. She’d be at the store both days. Which reminded her of a question that had been nagging her all day. “I just remembered a question I wanted to ask you. When did you get your acceptance letter from Black Mountain College?”
“March,” Harley answered. “Why? You’re not thinking about changing careers on me, are you?”
“Not at all.” After living next to Cunningham for a year, school was the last place she wanted to be right now. “It’s about Alex. He already received a letter from the water polo coach. I thought it was strange.”
Harley shrugged. “I don’t know anything about sports—unless scrapbooking counts.”
“It does in my book,” said Zo with a laugh. “See you tomorrow.”
Harley waved goodbye, and Zo walked up her deck stairs. George made the climb as hard as possible by shoving himself into the rear of the carrier, upsetting the balance. Once inside, she opened the crate, and he bolted, low-walking across the kitchen floor and into the living room. From under a chair, he peered at her as she poured food into his dish. The stare down lasted no longer than a minute. Then he was busy munching his dinner while she made tea.
Nothing said fall like apple cinnamon, and after the day she had, she needed a comfort tea—and teapot. As the water heated, she took down her single-serve apple teapot. It had its own infuser, which she filled with loose-leaf tea. She warmed her hands on the apple-shaped pot while she waited for it to steep, the smell of cinnamon wafting up from the spout.
As the tea took effect, she breathed a sigh of relief. George was safe, the Harvest Hike was over, and the scrapbook event was a success. She could turn to other things now—like her Happy Camper column. It needed to include businesses that were giving back to the community for the holidays. Her laptop on the kitchen table was a reminder of the work that needed to be done for the article. She flipped it open.
She’d talked to Nikki about the theater. They were doing a holiday food drive. One sack of groceries would purchase a ticket to this year’s production of A Christmas Carol. Next, she needed to talk to Hattie, who always planned something special for the library. But right now her screen was pulling her in another direction. Her Internet application was open to a page about water polo. She’d been searching for teams in the area and found nothing.
Zo tapped the screen. “Zero,” she said aloud. Like Harley, she wasn’t familiar with the sport, but something was amiss. If Harley didn’t receive her acceptance letter until March, why was Alex receiving letters from the water polo coach in November? Was it possible he’d already been accepted by the college?
She typed in the name of Alex’s Ivy League school and, after scrolling through various menus, found an application timeline. It was just as she thought. Even if Alex did the early action option, the soonest he would get his acceptance letter was mid-December. Other applicants would receive theirs by late March. College coaches recruited early, even before students applied, but did they also send letters, thanking parents for their support? Zo had a feeling something else was at play besides the game of water polo.
George jumped on her lap, interrupting her musing. His purr was a welcome intrusion. She leaned back from the computer and scratched his ears. She would look into it later. Right now she needed to spend some much-needed time welcoming home her cat.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Zo stood back to admire her work on the chalkboard tent outside Happy Camper. It announced her November promotion, Marshmallow Mondays. Above a swirling cup of hot chocolate, she’d written, Marshmallow Mondays Start Today! in colorful bubble letters. Customers could enjoy a free cup of hot chocolate on Mondays from now until the end of December. Last year, customers loved it. The hot chocolate carafe became the metaphorical town water cooler, with people popping in to sip, gossip, and shop. A jar of colorful marshmallows sat next to the pot. In December, she would put out candy canes.
December, she repeated to herself as she opened the door. The nip in the air told her it was right around the corner. She poured hot cocoa into her Happy Camper mug, a taste test to make sure she got it right. Rich, chocolatey, and steamy, it was perfect—more than perfect. It put her in the mood for holiday music, and she decided to grab the Christmas albums out of storage, to give them a shine before the start of the season, and the holiday gift cards. She brought them to the register, where George lay on the counter taking his bath. When Harley arrived, she’d take the gift cards to the construction workers at the theater. It was still amazing to her that complete strangers had discovered something so personal about her. They’d gone out of their way to be helpful. She
wanted to repay the kindness.
For now, she drank her hot chocolate and read the paper—as much of it as she could anyway with George’s tail in the way. Interestingly, he hadn’t begged to go outside today. Maybe he’d had enough of the great outdoors after seeing it up close. He seemed perfectly content to hang close to her.
“Marshmallow Mondays!” Harley called out as she breezed through the door. “The most wonderful time of the year.”
“I’ll get you a cup,” said Zo.
Harley unwrapped her purple scarf and hung it with her coat in the backroom. “Is it too early to frost the windows?” she hollered.
“A bit.” Zo handed her the hot chocolate as she approached the register. “Let’s wait until after Thanksgiving.”
Just as they began to share their morning mugs, Justin Castle came through the door like a cold burst of air. Harley shot Zo a glance, her hot chocolate still raised to her lips.
“What fresh hell is this?” muttered Zo, quoting Dorothy Parker.
Justin pointed to the table of seasonal books, which held copies of Marianne’s book. He barked orders at his cameraman. “Zoom in on this. Film the ‘happy’ stuff. It’ll be an ironic twist for the piece.”
Reluctantly, Zo set down her mug. It was too early for Justin—and on a Monday to boot. “What are you doing?”
“Good morning.” Justin motioned to a mug that read Gratitude Is an Attitude. “Get this, too, Mark. I’m doing an exposé on Marianne’s death.”
The cameraman hovered over the merchandise.
“I got word this morning that her death wasn’t an accident—blunt force trauma to the head. It looks as if we have another murderer in town.” He arched a slim eyebrow. Zo was pretty sure he waxed them. “You’re not going to scoop me this time, Zo.”
She grabbed the cup out of the cameraman’s hand. “What do you mean ‘scoop you’? I’m not in the newspaper business anymore, obviously.” She flashed him the cup. “I own a business, a business you keep trying to disrupt.”
