Софи Келли - Final Catcall

Mom poked her head around the doorway to the kitchen. “Ask Maggie to join us for breakfast,” she stage-whispered.

“Mom would like to know if you can meet us for breakfast,” I said.

“Yes,” Maggie immediately said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to think about it?” I teased.

“I have been thinking about it,” she said. “I really want to meet your mother. I’ve heard so much about her from you. The fact that she’s on my show is just a bonus.”

We settled on a time and said good night. I gave Owen a scratch under his chin. “This is from Maggie,” I said. His golden eyes closed to slits and he started to purr.

It was the alarm clock that woke me in the morning, not a furry face with sardine breath. When I went downstairs I found Mom, sitting on the floor by the refrigerator. She had a fork in each hand with half a sardine speared on each one. Hercules was methodically licking fish oil off one chunk. Owen was biting off bits from the other and setting them on the floor so he could eat them.

Mom looked up and smiled. “Good morning, sweetie.” She gestured at the counter. “I made you coffee.”

“Oh, umm, thank you,” I said. Mom could do only two things in the kitchen and making coffee wasn’t one of them.

“My internal clock is completely out of whack,” she said. “I made some tea and fed the cats. I hope that’s okay. Owen seemed hungry.”

“What did you feed them?”

She tipped her head in the direction of the counter, where an empty can sat waiting to be washed and recycled. “That canned food.” Her right hand moved and Hercules’s head bobbed up and down as he tried to keep licking without missing a beat.

“They’re very intelligent cats,” Mom said. “Hercules took me right to the cupboard with the cat food and Owen showed me the sardines in the refrigerator.”

“Yes, they are something,” I said darkly, eyeing both cats as I moved to the fridge to get the cream for my coffee. “Why are you feeding them sardines like that?” Each cat was less than a foot away from my mother. Most people, with the exception of Maggie, didn’t get that close.

Mom looked up at me, frowning. “You did tell me not to touch them, Katydid.”

“I mean why are you feeding them sardines at all?”

She shifted slightly. “I was having my tea and half of one of those wonderful blueberry muffins. It just seemed wrong for me to have a treat and them to have nothing.”

Owen made a little murp of agreement.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to feed them a blueberry muffin. I can’t see how that would be good for them.”

Hercules glanced over at me then. Unlike his brother, he at least had the good sense to look a little guilty.

I got a mug out of the cupboard and poured a cup of the coffee for myself. It didn’t smell burned or have the consistency of molasses. That was good. As I added cream and sugar I realized I didn’t care if the coffee tasted . . . well, as bad as every other cup of coffee my mother had ever made. I was happy just to have her in the middle of my kitchen floor feeding sardines to my cats.

Owen had pulled the last bite of fish off his fork. Mom leaned sideways, set the fork on the table and grabbed her tea. “Cheers,” she said, holding up the cup.

“Cheers,” I echoed. I took a sip, aware that I was suddenly being watched by three sets of eyes. The coffee wasn’t too watery or too strong. It didn’t taste like it had been filtered through a pair of old sweat socks. “This is . . . good,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised but, well, I was.

Mom gave the boys a conspiratorial grin and got to her feet. She came over and kissed the top of my head. “See, sweetie?” she said. “You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

Herc’s head came up and he gave her a green-eyed glare.

She held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Hercules,” she said. “I meant no offense.”

The glare smoothed into a kitty smile. If offense had been taken, it had already passed.

Maggie was waiting for us at Eric’s, sitting at our favorite table in the window. She stood up to greet us when we came in the front door.

“I’m so happy to meet you,” Mom said, taking both of Maggie’s hands in hers. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

Maggie smiled. “I’m glad to meet you, too, Mrs. Paulson. I’ve heard good things about you also.”

Mom gave her a sly grin. “Well, then, you haven’t heard the best stories,” she said. She gave Maggie’s hands a squeeze and let go. “And please call me Thea.”

As soon as we sat down, Eric himself came over with the coffeepot and I did the introductions.

“I hear you make a chocolate pudding cake that’s almost as good as my favorite Death by Chocolate cheesecake,” Mom said.

Like everyone who met my mother, Eric was already charmed. “Come back for lunch and you can judge that for yourself,” he said.

She smiled. “I will.”

Mom ordered an omelet for breakfast while Maggie and I both chose our current favorite, Eric’s breakfast sandwich.

Eric went back to the kitchen and Claire came over with hot water and a couple of small teapots for Maggie and Mom. Once Mom had a cup of tea steaming in front of her, she reached for her bag and pulled out a small package wrapped in lavender paper and tied with silver ribbons. She handed it across the table to Maggie.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I brought this for you.”

Maggie looked from my mother to me. “Uh, thank you,” she said. She set the package on her lap, untied the ribbon bow, and carefully unfolded the tissue paper. When she saw what was inside, she put a hand to her mouth. She looked at Mom across the table. “I can’t believe you did this.”

She held up a T-shirt, the same pale lavender color as the wrapping paper. Across the front it read LIFE IS WILD AND WONDERFUL. The rest of the fabric was covered with signatures scrawled in permanent black marker.

“It has to be the whole cast,” Maggie said. “There’s Billy and Jack and Nicole. I just . . . oh wow!”

“Kathleen told me you like the show,” Mom said. “I thought you might enjoy the shirt.”

“I will.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I can’t decide whether to wear it or frame it.”

Mom took a sip of her tea. “Wear it,” she said. “Enjoy it. Life is meant to be lived, not looked at from a distance.”

“Are you and Jack really having an affair?” Maggie asked, holding the T-shirt against her chest with one hand. “I mean, your character.”

Mom propped one elbow on the table. “Can you really see me with him?” she asked, eyebrows going up.

“I knew it,” Maggie said.

They started talking about the show and I leaned back in my chair with my coffee and let their voices wash over me. Having Mom and Maggie sitting at the same table was the best of both worlds. I wished I didn’t have to choose between Boston and Mayville Heights, and I was uncomfortably aware that I was going to have to make that choice soon.

The front door of the café opened then and Marcus stepped inside. He smiled when he saw me.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hi,” he said. He gestured toward the table. “Is that your mother with Maggie?”

I nodded. “Do you have time to meet her?”

“I’d like to, but do you have a minute first?”

“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”

“Hannah was telling the truth. She was at Barry’s Hat on Friday night. I talked to a friend of Liam’s.” He made a face. “He took her keys. Some of the crew from the festival were there. One of the women wasn’t drinking. She drove Hannah home.”

“You went to Barry’s Hat?”