Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Peril

Chapter 16

The Pooles were all gathered in Tex and Marge’s kitchen: Odelia, Marge and Alec standing in a small circle around Gran, who was seated at the kitchen table, like a suspect at the police station, or an accused standing trial. Chase had left, wisely deciding this was a matter best handled by the family and not wanting to interfere. Tex, meanwhile, was busying himself washing the dishes, though judging from the clatter of cups and plates smashing against each other he was more engaged in blowing off some much-needed steam.

“I’m telling you nicely, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “Drop this nonsense right this minute.”

“I’m not dropping this nonsense,” said Gran stubbornly. “Philippe Goldsmith is a nice young man and he is my grandson. Can I help it if he’s taken such a shine to me? He says he’ll put me up in the Goldsmith mansion someplace in Colorado and pamper me for the rest of my natural life.” She held up her wrinkly hands. “It’s an offer I can’t possibly refuse!”

“It’s an offer you will refuse,” said Marge. “Because you’re not Philippe’s grandmother. There’s no way you had a child and then promptly forgot about it.”

“Yes, you may be daft but you’re not that daft,” grumbled Alec.

“Watch your tongue,” Gran warned. “I am still your mother.”

“Yes, you are. My mother—not this Hunter Goldsmith, whoever he was.”

“Nice name, Hunter,” mused Grandma. “I can’t remember giving it to him but I must have. Just the kind of name I would have given a healthy baby boy.” She darted a quick look at Alec. “Your dad named you, of course. I wanted to call you Filip and Marge Sandra.”

Alec and Marge glanced at one another. “F. Lip and S. Lip. Flip and Slip. Nice one, Ma,” Alec said. “Good thing you left the naming to Dad.”

Grandma shrugged. “They’re nice-sounding names. Not like Alec and Marge. I’ve always hated those names.”

“And you’re telling us now,” said Marge.

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Grandma. “You had to find out sometime. Why not now, when I’m moving on to my first family?” She patted Mom’s cheek. “I like this family, I really do, but I was born to be a woman of substance, and my ship has finally come in.”

Dad made a disgusted sound and chipped some more China. Odelia decided this was ridiculous. “You can’t really expect the Goldsmiths to take your word for this, Gran,” she said. “They’re bound to do a DNA test—see if you’re really related or some kind of con artist.”

“Oh, they already did,” said Gran in a careless tone. “Philippe is a very meticulous young man—he had his personal physician take a swab of my saliva and said the lab will fast-track the processing. Until then I’m a guest at his home. His casa is my casa. Those were his exact words.” She smiled beatifically. “Such a nice young man. Intelligent, rich, well-spoken. I’m glad my absence from his life hasn’t held him back. Of course now that we found each other I’ll be a major influence on him. He’ll finally flourish and reach his full potential.”

Tex squeezed some more unintelligible noises from his throat.

“He might even name a school after me,” Gran continued. “The Goldsmiths are big on education. Major contributors to the University of Colorado and other local institutions of higher education. I’ll fit right in. I’m big on education myself.”

“You dropped out of school when you were sixteen!” Alec cried.

“And I’ve regretted it since,” she insisted. She smiled. “Maybe I’ll go back to school. Get a degree in astrophysics or something. I could work for NASA. The sky is the limit now.”

“Gran, this is crazy,” said Odelia. “The test results will show that you’re not related and the Goldsmiths will ship you right back home!”

“No, they won’t,” said the old lady stubbornly. “First of all I did have Burt’s child—even if my memory is a little fuzzy on the details. And secondly I intend to ingratiate myself to the Goldsmiths in such a way that they’ll consider me their honorary grandmother.” She nodded decidedly. “One way or another, I’m a Goldsmith now, and I fully intend to live up to the name. I might even run for governor of Colorado. Isn’t that what rich people do? But first I need to get my NASA degree. Tom Hanks is waiting for me up there in Apollo 13.”

“Please, God, take me now,” muttered Dad, and threw down the dish brush.

Chapter 17

I stared at Brutus who was staring at the box of pills Odelia had bought. The box of pills were Vena’s idea. After examining the brutish black cat—though a lot less brutish since he’d confided his big secret in me—she’d determined everything was A-Okay with his plumbing. Which told her the issue was between his ears. No idea what she meant by that. Vena also said he needed a shrink, but since cat shrinks are hard to find she decided to give him some pills to alleviate his predicament. It should put the pep right back in his pee-pee.

Before leaving the house, Odelia laid out a couple of pills, and told Brutus to take one with a little water. And now Brutus was staring at the pills and I was staring at him. And since Dooley was staring at me staring at Brutus staring at the pills, things were a little awkward.

Harriet, of course, was staring at herself. In the mirror in the bathroom. She’d discovered that if she jumped on top of the wash basin, she could study herself to her heart’s content, which was what she was doing right now.

“I don’t like it, Max,” Dooley said finally.

“What don’t you like, Dooley?” I said.

“The collar. Makes you look weird.”

Just what I needed. A motivational speech.

“That’s because collars look weird on all cats, Dooley,” I pointed out. “Because cats weren’t designed to wear collars.”

“I know that. But on you it looks extra weird. Probably because it’s too tight. I can see all kinds of flab sticking out. Like someone tied a rubber band around a whale.”

He was right. Vena had used the final hole punched into the collar and still it was too tight around my neck. I’d told Odelia it was because the collar was too small. Vena had said it was because I was too fat, and she’d threatened to put me on another one of her diets. In her infinite wisdom Odelia had decided that the diet would have to wait until after the flea ordeal had been dealt with. I hoped by then she would have forgotten about the diet thing.

“Just take it already,” I told Brutus, tiring of this waiting game.

He chewed his lower lip. “I don’t know, Max. What if my pee-pee falls off?”

“Why would your pee-pee fall off?”

“I read about these pills. There’s always side effects. And one of the side effects is that your pee-pee swells up and dies. What am I going to tell Harriet if my pee-pee dies?”

“Your pee-pee isn’t going to die from a teeny tiny pill. Just think how happy Harriet will be if your machinery works like it should. Focus on the light, Brutus, not the darkness.”

Dooley transferred his attention from my tight collar to Brutus. “What’s his deal?” he asked. Then he remembered. “Oh, the pee-pee thing. Right.”

Brutus’s eyes went wide. “You told him?!”

“Of course I told him. He’s my best friend.”

“I told you in confidence!”

“And I told Dooley in confidence.”

He groaned. “Tell me you didn’t tell Harriet.”

“I didn’t tell Harriet,” said Dooley. “So why don’t you take the pill, Brutus?”

His bedside manners were a little lacking in tact and delicacy, I felt, and some of the old rancor had slipped back into his tone. It was obvious my helping Brutus still rankled.

“Are you deaf? I just told Max about the side effects.”