Софи Келли: Faux Paw

“I’m glad you decided to take her,” I said.

He smiled. “I think it was more like you and Roma decided I should take her.”

I smiled back at him. “Potato, potahto.”

He grinned as he turned back to the stove.

“There’s no way I could have taken her,” I said. “As it is, Owen and Hercules are squabbling over—” I exhaled loudly and shook my head. “I don’t know what. Bacon, possibly.”

Marcus took the lasagna out of the oven and set it on a tile trivet on the countertop. “Bacon?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder at me.

I thought about Hercules eating Everett’s treat with what had seemed to me to be a somewhat smug expression on his furry black-and-white face. “Maybe,” I said. “Hercules has been eating bacon nearly every morning with Everett, and Owen loves bacon almost as much as he loves Maggie. But he’s slow in the morning. I think it’s just sibling jealousy, although you may be called in at some point to investigate the decapitation of one Fred the Funky Chicken.”

“You know, Micah may not be a true Wisteria Hill cat, but I think she’s one in spirit,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. The lasagna smelled wonderful and my stomach growled audibly again. It had been a long time since Rebecca’s muffin.

“You know how Owen is always sneaking into your truck?” Marcus reached for the plates on the counter.

“Uh-huh,” I said slowly. Marcus didn’t know about the boys’ “superpowers,” so he didn’t know that Owen was able to “sneak” into my truck by making himself invisible.

He tipped his head in Micah’s direction. “She’s done the same thing to me. Twice I was halfway to work before I realized that she was sitting on the backseat.”

I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. “Really?” I said slowly. “You didn’t see her jump in the back?”

“I didn’t even see her follow me out of the house.” He set a steaming plate in front of me and leaned down to give the top of Micah’s head a little scratch. “I guess she shares that stealth-ninja gene with Owen.”

“I guess she does.” I stared down at the cat, who looked up innocently at me and then began to wash her face.

It wasn’t possible. Micah didn’t share Owen’s ability. I was overreacting, I told myself sternly as I unfolded my napkin. Over. Re. Acting.

If I repeated the words enough times, maybe I’d start to believe them.

3

Mia was waiting by the main entrance when I pulled into the parking lot in the morning. She had convinced both her history and art teachers to let her shadow Margo, which meant that she’d been Margo’s unpaid grunt on Tuesday and Thursday mornings for the previous two weeks.

I pulled up the hood of my raincoat and sprinted across the pavement, dodging the puddles, grateful for my new red rubber boots. Once we were inside, Mia pushed back her own hood and I got a good look at her hair, which was now lime Jell-O green.

“I like your hair,” I said.

She smiled shyly. “Thank you.” Then she took her coat out into the entryway and shook it over the rubber mat. Mia was a study in contrasts. Her hair was always some neon crayon color, but she dressed conservatively. Today she was wearing a black pencil skirt with black tights and a pale blue shirt.

I smoothed a hand over my own hair, which I had pulled back into a low ponytail. “Maybe I’ll go green,” I said.

Mia tipped her head to one side and studied me. “I think blue would suit you better,” she said. “Or orange.” She headed for the stairs.

Orange? I was never quite sure when Mia was kidding and when she was serious.

Harry Taylor and his sister, Elizabeth, came into the library just after ten o’clock. Elizabeth was carrying a large mason jar. I walked over to meet them. She held the jar out to me.

“I made a new batch of yogurt,” she said. “And I added the rest of last year’s rhubarb.”

Harry and Elizabeth had different mothers but they’d both gotten the Taylor stubborn streak from Harrison. Elizabeth had been placed for adoption when she was born and had gotten to know her birth family only in the past year, but she was already in league with her brother to make their father’s diet healthier, hence the yogurt making. This would be the third batch I’d gotten to try, and while I had no idea if Harry Senior liked it, I certainly did.

“Thank you,” I said. Marcus was bringing lunch and now I had something to enjoy with my late-afternoon coffee.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and I caught a look pass between the siblings.

“Kathleen, do you have a minute?” Harry asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. Margo was standing in the exhibit area talking and gesturing. Mia was beside her, silently making notes.

I held up three fingers. “I probably have about three. What do you need?”

Before he could say anything, Elizabeth spoke.

“Harrison met a woman online.” She folded her arms over her chest. “He’s going to meet her.”

I’d seen the same determined expression on her father’s face more than once.

“What do you want me to do?”

Harry swiped a hand over his chin. “Talk to him. He isn’t listening to either one of us.”

“He could be meeting a con artist, someone who could hit him over the head and take his money,” Elizabeth interjected.

“Your father is very . . . stubborn.”

Harry gave a snort of agreement. Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something else, but I held up a hand to stop her. “He’s also one of the savviest people I’ve ever met. If some woman thinks she can take advantage of him, well . . .” I shook my head and tried not to smile too broadly. “I feel sorry for her.”

Elizabeth sighed softly.

“But I will talk to him.”

“Really?” she said.

I nodded.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He took off his hat, ran one hand over his balding head and put the cap back on again.

“I can’t promise that I’ll have any more success than you two did,” I said.

Elizabeth made a face and her mouth pulled to one side. “He gets an idea in his head and he’s so”—she made a growl of frustration that sounded so like her father I had to bite my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh—“unreasonable.”

I held the container of yogurt to my chest with one hand and touched her arm with the other. “Let me see what I can do.” I shot a look back over my shoulder. Margo caught my eye and lifted a hand. “I need to get back to work,” I said. “But I’ll give Harrison a call at lunchtime.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said.

I smiled at them both and then walked over to Margo. “I talked to Oren last night,” I said.

Her eyebrows went up and she gave me an expectant smile. “And?”

I turned to Mia before I answered. “Would you take this upstairs and put it in the refrigerator for me, please?” I knew that Margo could easily work Mia all morning without a break.

“Of course,” she said, taking the glass jar from me. “Is that homemade yogurt?”

“And the fruit on the top is rhubarb.” I smiled at her. “You’re welcome to try it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

I saw her glance at Margo, who was waiting not so patiently for my answer to her question. She’d crossed her arms over her chest and looked like she was about to start tapping one gray snakeskin high heel on the mosaic tile floor.

Mia headed for the stairs and I turned back to Margo. “As long as the town council agrees, yes, you can display the town seal Oren has been working on.”

“Oh, Kathleen, thank you,” she said, a genuine smile of pleasure spreading across her face.

I smiled back at her. “You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m happy that Oren’s talent is going to be recognized.” I knew that the only reason he’d agreed to let the seal be part of the exhibit was that it might bring some attention to the town.