Софи Келли - Final Catcall

I kept my head down over the counter. Maggie had seen Hannah, which meant it definitely had been her that Andrew had noticed driving past the marina when we were unloading the staging. Hannah was lying when she’d said she was in Red Wing all evening. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’d been hoping it was someone else—anyone else—that Andrew had seen.

So why had she lied? I didn’t want to think about the obvious reason. There had to be another explanation. But right now wasn’t the time to figure it out.

Mags squinted through the glass and reached for her oven mitts. “I think they’re done,” she said. She flapped a hand at me. “Kath, would you get the plates, please?”

The pizza was wonderful—sausage, caramelized onions and long strings of chewy mozzarella on a crisp, fragrant crust. The promise I’d made to myself to have just one slice evaporated.

We moved into the living room for dessert.

“I think I have chocolate overload.” Roma groaned, licking icing off her thumb after her second brownie.

“There’s no such thing,” Maggie countered, stretching her long legs onto the footstool. She looked at Roma. “Did I hear you say you’re going to see Eddie next weekend?”

“I am,” Roma said, a huge smile lighting up her face. It happened every time Eddie’s name came up.

Maggie folded her hands over her stomach. “Does he have any cute hockey player friends? They don’t have to be Eddie cute, just, you know, ordinary-human-being cute.”

“What happened to Liam?” I asked. Maggie had been casually dating the bartender-slash–grad student for a couple of months.

She sighed. “After everything that happened with Legacy and the tour proposal, he decided to go back to Minneapolis and work on his thesis this term.”

Liam had been part of a group pitching Mayville Heights as a fall tourist destination to Legacy Tours from Chicago. The proposal had fallen apart when Mike Glazer, one of the three partners in the tour company, had been found dead down on the Riverwalk.

“I’d just like to go out with someone who’s fun,” she said. “No drama, no dead bodies.”

I leaned against the back of the sofa and tucked both feet underneath me. “That sounds good,” I said. “Could you see if Eddie has two friends?”

“You really can’t work things out with Marcus?” Roma asked. She liked Marcus. He’d been her first recruit when she’d decided to put together a group of volunteers to care for the feral cat colony at Wisteria Hill.

“No. We keep . . .” I took a deep breath. “It’s like running into a stone wall. We have different ideas about loyalty and friendship.”

I stopped to swallow down the lump that had suddenly settled in my throat. “It’s not going to work.”

Maggie flashed me a look of sympathy.

Roma reached over and gave my arm a squeeze.

“Too much negative energy,” Maggie said, shifting upright a little in her chair. “Let’s talk about something else.” She turned to Roma. “Tell us what’s happening at Wisteria Hill.”

Roma had bought the old Henderson estate a few weeks before.

“Is Oren going to do the work for you?” I asked.

Roma held up a finger. “I just need to call and check on a patient and then I’ll you what we’ve figured out.” She smiled at me. “And yes, Oren’s going to do the work.” She got up from the couch and took her cell phone out of her pocket.

I leaned forward toward Maggie. “Mags, are you sure it was Hannah you saw last night?”

She frowned. “You mean going the wrong way on Jefferson? Yes, I’m sure. It wasn’t Marcus, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said.

Maggie continued to study my face, her eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

I played with the knotted fringe on one of the pillows. “It’s complicated.”

“It has something to do with Marcus, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “I’ll tell you about it—I promise. I need to figure a couple of things out first.”

“Okay,” she said. “If you need someone who isn’t furry and four-legged to bounce anything off of, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Roma came back over to us.

“How’s your patient?” Maggie asked.

“Alive and barking,” she said with a grin, wiggling her eyebrows at us.

Maggie threw her head back and groaned. I patted the sofa cushion beside me. “Now that you’ve dazzled us with your wit, dazzle us with your ideas for Wisteria Hill.”

We spent the next hour talking about the work Roma had planned for the old farmhouse and the grounds. It was impossible not to get caught up in her enthusiasm.

Finally she looked at her watch. “It’s getting late, and as much as I like you two, I’m tired.” She stretched. “I have to drive to Minneapolis to consult on a surgery with a guy I went to veterinary school with and it’s my morning to feed the cats.”

“Couldn’t whoever you’re on the schedule with go without you for one morning?” Maggie asked.

Roma shook her head. “I’m on the schedule with Harry and he’s still out of town.”

“Roma, I’ll go,” I said. “I have food and a couple of water jugs at home.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “It really would help if I didn’t have to go out there first thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

She leaned over to hug me. “Thanks,” she said.

Maggie had half of the second pizza wrapped up for Roma to take with her and I gave her half of the remaining brownies. “I’ll talk to you both soon,” she said before she disappeared down the stairs.

I stretched my arms up over my head. “I should go, too,” I said to Maggie. “But I’ll help you clean up first.”

She shook her head. “No, you won’t. All I have to do is put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher. Don’t forget your pizza.”

“There’s no chance of that happening,” I said. “That’s lunch tomorrow.”

“Not breakfast?” Maggie teased as I pulled on my long blue sweater.

“I’m having breakfast with Andrew.”

Her eyebrows went up, but she didn’t say anything.

“You had breakfast with him,” I said.

“He’s not trying to woo me away to Boston with him,” she said. “At least as far as I know.”

I smiled at her. “He can woo all he wants. We’re not getting back together.”

“Does he know that?”

“I’ve told him enough times in the last week,” I said, taking the container of pizza she handed me.

“As long as you don’t tell him you’ll go back to Boston,” she said.

I hugged her. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Seems to me you can’t get rid of Marcus that easily, either,” she said, smiling at me. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”

I thought about that as I drove home. If the universe is trying to send me a message about Marcus, what the heck is it?

13

Early Sunday morning, I was bouncing my way up the rutted driveway at Wisteria Hill just as the sun was coming over the horizon. It felt strange to be feeding the cats without Marcus along.

I carried the two water jugs around to the side door of the carriage house and then walked back to the truck to get the clean dishes and the day’s supply of cat food. Roma had a new wet food that the cats seemed to like a lot. Luckily it came in flip-top cans.

I slammed the truck door with my hip and as I turned around I heard the sound of tires crunching their way up the driveway. It occurred to me that I was all alone, it was early in the morning, and if I screamed only the cats would hear me.

I tightened up on the handle of the canvas tote bag that held the cans of cat food. If I didn’t know the person easing up the driveway, I’d swing the bag like I was a contestant in a Scottish hammer throw and ask questions later.