Fat Cat Spreads Out

THIRTY

“Go, go!” urged Inger. “You’ll be late.” It was near closing time and only three customers lingered in the Bar None. Inger had been explaining the blue ribbon to them. She did it several times a day, but she said she didn’t get tired of it. The picture Chase had snapped of Quincy in the Babe the Blue Ox costume was taped to the display case next to the ribbon.

Anna and Chase both felt it would be wrong to display the Picky Puss Cat Food bags in the shop, the ones featuring Quincy all dolled up in the diamond collar. Five different images of him, in various poses, graced the bags.

He had loved the photo shoot, Chase thought. Dozens of people fussed and fawned over him, and he purred nonstop. He even hammed it up when they shot the television ads. The one Chase liked best started with an empty metal bowl. You then saw Picky Puss kibble cascading into it. The camera panned out and left the kitchen, took the viewer through a living room and a front hallway, up the stairs, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom where Quincy lay in regal splendor on a gray silk cat bed, wearing, of course, the collar. Throughout the camera’s journey, the sound of pouring, clattering kibble grew fainter and fainter. But when the camera—and presumably the sound, or maybe the smell—reached Quincy, his head shot up and he leapt out of the cat bed, reversed the route, and ended up chowing down in the kitchen.

The final product, which Chase had seen, but which hadn’t aired yet, looked like one continuous shot. But it had been dozens of takes pieced together with fake partial rooms. Also, Quincy had refused to touch the Picky Puss food. Chase had brought some Kitty Patties with her, just in case, and the crew buried them beneath the dry food. Only then would Quincy enthusiastically dive in.

Chase looked at the clock behind the counter in the shop. “You’re right, Inger. I’d better get changed. Do you need Anna to help out?”

“No, I’ll clean out the cases. She’s busy in the kitchen.”

Inger radiated the glow of motherhood. Now that she was seeing Dr. Ingersoll and taking prenatal supplements, Chase and Anna worried about her much less. She was back living with her parents, but was moving into her own apartment in a week. She had gone out with Peter on official dates twice, but seemed to be cooling toward him. Or was that wishful thinking on Chase’s part? Peter had Shadow with him in his own apartment now. Chase had kept him for three days, but Shadow and Quincy were not the best of friends. Quincy had kept Shadow pinned down under Chase’s bed most of that time.

Inger had seen the therapist Mike recommended but had “graduated” from therapy after only a few sessions.

Chase took off her smock in the kitchen and put it in the basket of soiled linens. Anna was putting away the baking pans and utensils she had washed. Quincy was on counter patrol, inspecting for stray crumbs. Julie came in through the back door.

Chase paused a moment to take it all in.

Her shop. Her own shop. Hers and Anna’s. She was living the life she wanted to live, making delectable treats that made people happy. And she had the best family and the best pet in the world.

“I only have a minute,” Julie said. “Jay and I are on our way to a movie. Anna, you wanted to show me something?”

“I want to show both of you.” Anna reached into her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I got this today.” She tossed it on the island countertop. The envelope was plastered with colorful stamps. The name in the upper left corner was Elsa Oake.

“Where is she?” asked Julie, picking up the envelope and extracting a sheet of paper.

“Read it,” Anna said.

Chase extracted two photos from the envelope as Julie read:

Elsie and I decided we love Costa Rica. The place Larry rented is perfect. We’ve decided to buy it. We sent for Grey and want to stay here for a few months a year, or maybe year-round. Any time you want to come down and visit, we’d love to have you. Bring Quincy if you can.

“Let’s see the pictures,” Anna said. Chase showed them one of Lady Jane Grey against a jungle background, her leg securely fastened to a perch. The other was of Elsa and Eleanor—which was which was anyone’s guess—on an impossibly white beach, surrounded by gentle waves from an aquamarine sea, backed by a matching cloudless sky, and swaying palm trees.

“Maybe we should visit,” Julie said.

“With Chase’s new website drawing in a record amount of business, we might be able to afford it.”

When Chase had finally shown the website to Anna on Tuesday, after sending the remaining dessert bar photos to Tanner Monday night, Anna was thrilled.

“This is beautiful,” she said, clicking through the pages. She grinned at Chase. “So this is why you took all those pictures.”

Chase had had no trouble getting her to agree to pay Tanner from the Bar None account, which was nice and healthy after selling so much at the fair.

* * *

Mike talked about the last time they had been to this restaurant, when they had eaten outside a few weeks ago. It was much too cold tonight. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since the day before. Besides, it rained, gently, all the way to Lord Fletcher’s. The Wharf, the outdoor dining area, was closed for the season. It was November, after all. Chase remembered her disappointment that their time together hadn’t been more romantic on that visit.

He said a few words to the maître d’ and they were ushered to a table beside a large window. When the waiter brought the wine, he joked with Mike about the fact that, again, the Twins had had no chance of making it to the World Series. After a few one-liners, the waiter asked Mike, “What’s the difference between dirt and the Minnesota Twins?”

Mike puzzled over it for a few seconds. “I give up.

“Nothing much,” said the waiter. “They both always get swept.”

The two men chuckled and the waiter left to put in their order.

Chase was happy to see Mike laughing. “You’re in a great mood tonight.”

“Not being a murder suspect will do that to a person.” His deep, dark eyes twinkled in the soft candlelight. The waiter had poured them each a glass from a bottle of red wine that Chase suspected cost quite a bit more than she would pay if she were buying. Mike had insisted it was his treat tonight.

“Well, I never suspected you,” Chase said. They clinked glasses and she sipped. “Mmm, this is yummy.” The rain pattered against the window beside them and ran down in rivulets.

“I know you didn’t.” He sipped, too, then set his glass down and took both her hands in his. Both of them had healed quickly from their injuries, although Chase still shuddered when she thought about how close they had come to being killed. “I’m not sure I’d be alive right now if it weren’t for you.”

Chase ducked her head, embarrassed. “Oh, sure. Something would have happened.”

Mike lifted her chin with a finger to look into her eyes. “You happened. You wouldn’t give up, and you found me in the nick of time.”

Yes, she had. She had to admit to herself she had saved his life. It was entirely possible that Frank Hardin would have killed him. She didn’t want Mike to be grateful, though. She wanted something else from him. For the rest of the meal, they chatted easily, on the surface, about Quincy, about the parrot, Grey, whom Chase sort of missed, and about the Aronoffs. Inger was still seeing Peter, but not regularly. Inger became more confident with each passing day. Her baby was showing now, and she rubbed her tummy unconsciously when she was working behind the counter, out on the floor, or helping in the kitchen. She was turning out to be a competent baker with a good imagination for putting new ingredients together.

They also talked about the infinite, interminable wedding plans for Anna and Bill.

“It’ll all be over by Christmas Day,” Mike said.

“And not a moment too soon. If a ‘simple’ wedding is this complicated, I wonder how much energy an elaborate one would take.”

Mike’s answer was an enigmatic smile. The rain sprayed in a sudden spurt, clattering against the windowpane. “How’s Julie doing with the new job?”

“She hasn’t started yet. She gave notice last month and will begin at Bud’s real estate firm in two weeks. She’s so excited about it. For the moment, she’s busier than ever, studying up on that aspect of the law every spare moment.”

“She finds time to see Jay, doesn’t she?”

“Oh yes. He says it’s like she’s walking on air, and she says it feels like she lost twenty pounds.”

Mike snapped his fingers. “I keep forgetting to tell you, I weighed Quincy on the last day of the fair, before the contest.”

“And?” Mike was smiling, so maybe this would be good news, Chase thought.

“He was down a half pound.”

Chase knocked her back against her chair in astonishment. “With everything he ate? Everyone there was stuffing him.”

“He also got a lot of exercise.”

Chase nodded. Yes, he’d gotten out numerous times and had run the length of the midway with every escape, sometimes more than once.

That last burst of raindrops seemed to have been the final hurrah. She glanced out the window where the moon was peeking through drifting clouds.

“So he’s not really fat,” Chase said. “He needs more exercise.”

Mike grimaced. “That might be splitting hairs. He could stand to lose another pound or two, but this is a very good start.”

The doctor might not agree, but Chase decided that what Quincy needed was more exercise in the future. She fingered the silver-and-turquoise ring that Anna had given her. It was finally resized and she didn’t have to worry about it falling off, unless she started losing weight. She didn’t think that would happen any time soon.

“What ever happened with Dr. Drood?” Chase asked. “I felt sorry for him, after I calmed down over the way he acted. He was out of his depth.”

“Yes, he was. His name was left on a referral list inadvertently. It’s off now, so that should fix the problem of calling him up to sub. My friend insisted on paying part of what I paid Drood, since he felt responsible. He wasn’t, of course. Anyone could have made the same mistake. His credentials, from when he was active and had his own practice, were good.”

Chase didn’t ask Mike if he’d paid Dr. Drood for a whole day at the fair. She knew the answer.

After they ate, they donned their coats and scarves and strolled onto the wooden deck to watch the moon send its stripes onto the water. The rain had stopped completely now and a half-moon was still playing peekaboo through ragged fringes of clouds. A slight breeze blew across the deck, the air fresh and dry after the shower.

Chase shivered slightly and Mike put his arm around her shoulders. She had such a warm feeling about the meal she had just eaten, but the strange thing was, she couldn’t recall what any of the dishes had been. They had all been flavored by Mike’s smiling, dancing eyes and his soft, expressive lips.

He must have felt the same way, because he held her tighter and tighter, until they were embracing face-to-face. It felt so natural to look up at him and to finally—at long last—kiss those lips that had been tempting her for so long. They felt decidedly something more than grateful. So much better than she’d been imagining. Tender, delicious. The kiss went on and on . . .