Софи Келли - Cat Trick

Roma smiled. “Hercules doesn’t seem to think they need salt,” she said to Maggie. She looked at Owen and held out the box. “Would you like to try them?”

His expression was pained. On the one hand, there was a box of fish-flavored cat food. On the other hand, the hand holding the box belonged to Roma, the woman who poked him with needles and tried to cut off his access to sausage panzerotti and frozen yogurt.

“Here,” Maggie said. “Try this one.”

She held out the little star she’d palmed in her hand and then let it drop to the floor in front of Owen. He looked uncertainly at it, sniffed it and then gave it a careful lick. It disappeared from the floor faster than if I’d sucked it up with the vacuum.

Roma dumped a few more bits onto the floor in front of him.

“I think your friend just got two paws-up,” I said to her, setting the salad bowl on the table.

Roma pulled out a chair and sat down as I filled the plates, handing one to her and another to Maggie, before setting my own on the table.

Mags took a bite, gave me a blissful smile and waved her fork approvingly at me.

“This is good,” Roma said after her first taste. “Could I have the recipe?”

“Absolutely,” I said. Owen had come to sit next to Maggie’s chair, the way he always did when she had dinner with us. Hercules was next to the refrigerator, washing his paws. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and the little cat food drama had made Roma forget about me kissing Marcus.

She turned to Maggie, fork poised over her plate. “So how was your week?” she asked. “I know Kathleen was kissing Marcus. What have you been doing?”

Or maybe it hadn’t.

For a moment Maggie was as still as a stone statue. Then she squealed, flinging both hands in the air like she was about to do a victory dance in the end zone. “Finally,” she exclaimed. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to ask Rebecca if there were any kissing potions in those old notebooks of her mother’s.” She peered at me across the table. “When did you kiss him? And why didn’t you tell me?” Her gaze flicked over to Roma. “And how did you find out?”

Roma shrugged. “I asked. She turned the cutest shade of red.” She gestured to me with her fork. “Just the way she’s doing now. It was a dead giveaway.”

Maggie nodded. “I know. She used to do that all the time whenever I’d say Marcus was just perfect for her. That’s how I knew she liked him, no matter what she said.”

“I can hear the two of you, you know,” I said.

Mags nodded. “We know.” She speared a couple of potatoes, popped them in her mouth and then leaned her elbows on the table, propping her chin on her interlaced fingers. “So?” she said after she’d chewed and swallowed.

“Marcus kissed me. I kissed him back. That’s it,” I said. “He didn’t throw me over his shoulder and swing back to his tree house like Tarzan.” It didn’t seem like a good time to mention that we’d argued this morning. Again. Maybe I would invite him over to try Roma’s wine and this time I’d kiss him.

“I’ve never thought that sounded very comfortable,” Roma said, wrinkling her nose, not unlike the way Owen did when he was inspecting his food. “Hanging upside down over someone’s back and whipping through the trees—I think I just might get motion sickness.” She made a backward motion with her hands. “I like a nice dip.”

“Mmm, yeah.” Maggie nodded slowly. “But it’s very easy to overextend one’s back, and there is more than half a foot difference in height between Kathleen and Marcus.”

The two of them stared at me. “You’re wasting your time,” I said. “I don’t kiss and tell.” They exchanged shrugs and picked up their forks again. “But if I did,” I continued, “I’d say, ‘Wow!’”

They both howled with laughter.

“Now why don’t we talk about your love life?” I said to Maggie.

“Sure,” she said, “except I don’t have one.”

“What do you call Liam?” I asked.

“Cute as a bug’s ear?” Roma said. Maggie and I both looked at her. “Just because I have Eddie doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate cute.”

Maggie nodded. “Liam is a sweet man, but all we are is friends.” She squared her shoulders and held her head high. “I want what you and Marcus have.”

I frowned across the table. “What do we have?”

“Passion,” she said. “It’s the difference between a plain brownie and one with nuts and chocolate frosting. I want the nuts and the chocolate frosting.”

“You are nuts,” I said. “Marcus and I don’t have passion.”

Laughing, Roma shook her head. “Wisteria Hill? This morning? Something was going on between the two of you, although it didn’t look like something that was going to end with Marcus flipping you over his shoulder and swinging through the trees.”

“That wasn’t passion. That’s this case—Mike Glazer’s death. I just kind of stumbled into it.” Hercules lifted his head and meowed softly. “And it really wasn’t me. It was Hercules.”

The cat went back to washing his paws now that he’d been acknowledged. Owen, on the other hand, immediately moved into Roma’s line of sight, lifting a paw almost as though he were saying “I did something too . ”

“And Owen, too,” I added.

Roma’s head was bent over her plate. She didn’t even look up. “I know I’m going to be sorry I asked this,” she said, “but what do you mean ‘and Owen too’?”

Before I could answer, the cat did. He stalked over to Roma’s chair, looked up and meowed at her. Then he sat down and looked expectantly across the table at me. Clearly it was my job to fill in the details.

I gestured at the little gray tabby. “Owen found something that could have been a clue, but it turned out not to be.”

“I’m not even going to ask how that happened,” Roma said.

Mags smiled at Owen and gave him a thumbs-up. Then she straightened up in her chair. “I don’t suppose these two could figure out what happened.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry. That isn’t very nice of me. Mike’s dead and I’m thinking about the tour pitch.”

“Is it really that big a deal?” Roma asked.

“It could be,” Maggie said. “At least that’s what Liam believes. You know how quiet it is around here in the fall. Anything that could bring in tourists has to be good. He and Mary and Ruby, a couple of people from the hotel, Thorsten—they’ve put so much time and energy into this pitch.”

“I think you do like Liam,” I said teasingly.

She rolled her eyes. “Not in the way you mean. It’s just for fun between us. Liam likes to rescue damsels in distress and I’m not really the damsel type.” I saw her hand move and knew she’d just managed to slip Owen something from her plate. “For instance, last Thursday I’m meeting him for lunch at Fern’s, and as I’m coming from the parking lot, I see him with Wren Magnusson of all people, heads together, talking about something.” She gave her own head a little shake. “Turns out she’d had a flat the night before and Liam had stopped to help. Then, of course, Liam being Liam, when he saw her the next day, he had to make sure she’d gotten a new tire. He’s always doing things like that.”

“He sounds like a nice guy,” I said.

Maggie wiped a dab of sauce off the side of her mouth with her napkin. “He’s got a big heart,” she said. “I wouldn’t want him to be any different.” She gestured at Roma with the napkin. “It’s just that when Roma walks into a room, she’s the only person Eddie sees.”

Roma grinned and her cheeks got pink.

“And you and Marcus, I swear, the two of you could be standing in the middle of a hurricane and all you’d notice is each other.” She shot me a warning look. “Don’t say it’s not true, because the entire town thinks you two should just get on with it and admit you’re nuts about each other.”