Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Takes The Cake

A knock sounded on the door and Ms. Bjorn let Professor Anderson Fear into the living room. Chase glimpsed his blue fat-tire bike leaned against her porch railing. He peered at Chase, then took off his steamy glasses and wiped them on the tail of his plaid shirt. As usual, his hair stuck up in places and his clothing was rumpled and disheveled. Exactly right for a professor, Chase thought.

“We were talking about you, Andy, this very minute. I’ll get you some hot chocolate.” Ms. Bjorn bustled out of the room to her kitchen.

“Chase Oliver,” the man said, finally placing who she was. “Do you know how soon your friend Ms. Larson can talk to both of us?”

“I know that she’s taking this pro bono, so has to squeeze visits in. She was here yesterday, but you must have missed her. Ms. Bjorn was telling me about the guy who made the offer to her.”

“I guess I missed seeing her,” Professor Fear said.

Hilda Bjorn came back with a steaming mug for the professor.

“You’re not having any?” he asked Chase.

“No, we have to get going. But you go ahead. You’re probably cold from your bike ride.”

He perched on the edge of the couch cushion, which sagged halfway to the floor with his slight weight. “It’s not that cold yet. It’s above zero. Did you tell Chase about the man? What was his name?”

“Vance,” Ms. Bjorn said.

“What does he look like?” Chase asked.

“A great big egret, one of those white ones. A snowy egret.”

“Is he tall, short?”

“No, more medium height, I think. He was very nice.”

“Ms. Bjorn, please promise me that you’ll talk to Professor Fear before you sign anything. Make sure you do that, okay?”

“Yes, Hilda,” he said. “Don’t sign anything at all unless I’m there.”

“All right, but I think you young people are being too suspicious.”

“Maybe we are, but it’s better to be safe,” Chase said, and headed out.

Hilda Bjorn closed the door after them, clucking, and shaking her head. In general, Chase thought Ms. Bjorn was on the ball, but her idea of house prices was stuck in the year that she bought hers and was sadly out of date. Just the thing an unscrupulous land broker would count on.

Then it clicked. Van Snelson? Heard as Vance Nelson. Mr. Snelson, however, was not a land broker. He was a high school principal. She would talk to Julie about all this again tonight when Jules was off work. And she must remember to mention seeing Dickie Byrd with—whoever that was. Right out there on a public sidewalk. Did the man have no sense of self-preservation, what with his election coming up? He had never gotten academic honors in high school, but he had won elections. Was there such a thing as being election-smart and not smart-smart?

Rounding the last corner to the parking lot behind the Bar None, Chase was surprised to see Eddie Heath leaning against a bright yellow Smart car. He broke into a glowing smile when he saw her coming.

He waved, so Chase returned the gesture. But she wondered what he was doing here, behind the shop. It was closed today, so he probably wouldn’t find out where she’d gone from anyone inside. Anna was still here, as evidenced by her blue Volvo. She didn’t usually answer the door when she was alone, though.

“Nobody answered your doorbell when I tried it,” he shouted. “I was about to leave when I saw you.”

When she got near, she greeted Eddie. “Hi. We’ve been on a walk. Did you need some dessert bars?”

“Nope.” He grinned again.

“That’s good, because we’re closed today. But I could get some if you’re interested.”

“I’m more interested in the shop owner right now.”

He was flirting with her! Her high school crush had come around to see her after the reunion. She was conscious of a faint blush spreading up from her neck as she recalled the tingle she’d felt when they touched that night. “Are you . . . are you here for the tour I promised you?”

“Maybe. But I thought I could buy you lunch first.”

Was he going to apologize for dumping her right before their high school prom? No, Chase, she told herself. Don’t bring that up. It’s water under the bridge .

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No. Sure, I’d like that. I’ll be out in a minute.”

She scooped Quincy up and ran up the stairs to deposit him in the apartment. She wet her hands and patted her hair into place, then ran a tinted gloss over her lips. Then, for good measure, even though she knew she was about to eat, she swished some mouthwash.

As she checked her teeth in the mirror, Mike Ramos’s face popped up in her mind. This wasn’t a date, she told the imaginary Mike, it was merely getting together with an old classmate. Who I bumped into when I went to the reunion without you. Because you finked out at the last minute.

Crossing her fingers, she hoped going to lunch with Eddie Heath wasn’t the wrong thing to do.

EIGHT

Chase let Eddie pick the restaurant and he drove her to an out-of-the-way place. The outside of Gourmet Leaves and Plants was interesting and even funky. When they got seated Eddie started enthusing over the menu.

“See this?” He pointed to the top of the sheet. “Organic. Vegan. Raw. Gluten-free.”

Chase suppressed a shudder. “Is there regular food, too?” The weather was chilly and she had been looking forward to some thick, creamy soup, or maybe a juicy hamburger.

Eddie flashed that grin. “This is regular food. What’s wrong with it?”

Chase saw the selection of chilled soups. Nothing hot. “Well, are there any burgers?” She flipped the menu over, searching in vain for some comfort food. There were an awful lot of juices listed.

“Let me order. I promise you’ll love it. This place serves only healthy food.”

The waiter was hovering by them now. Eddie told him they would both start with a “rejuvenator.”

Chase started to look for it on the menu, then decided not to. She would give it a chance based on the taste. When the glass arrived, she sniffed the cloudy liquid. It smelled fresh and lemony. However, when she took a sip, she barely managed to swallow it. “I think I’ll need some water, too.”

“You don’t like the fermented quinoa sprouts?” Eddie’s face fell, disappointed.

“Maybe it’s the ginger.” There was at least five times more of the stuff than she could take in the “rejuvenator.”

The waiter was still nearby. “What kind of water?” he asked.

“Just regular water, please.”

“Unflavored?”

“Tap water, please.”

The waiter sniffed. “We do not serve tap water.”

“Then please bring me whatever you have.”

She got a glass bottle of “oxygen-infused water” that tasted rather musty, but better than the fermented quinoa.

The meal went downhill from there. Eddie had ordered her a falafel wrap that tasted good, but she would have much preferred something hot and filling.

Eddie steered the conversation to the weather and the background on almost every item from the menu. Chase was relieved that he didn’t bring up anything from high school, like, the prom. She remained polite and listened to his discourse on healthy food, nodding and staying silent on the subject. After all, she was in the business of making and selling sweet treats.

While they were waiting for the check, Chase noticed the man at a table across the small dining room. He had just been ushered in and seated. A waiter was standing above him, waiting to take his order. “I’m sorry,” the waiter said. “Could you repeat that?”

“I said I want a drink!”

The waiter drew himself up slightly. “Sir, we do not serve alcohol here.”

“Well, what good is this place?” Chase thought he must be pretty drunk to think this place would have a bar that served anything other than juice and liquid sprouts. The man struggled to his feet. He reeled, then stumbled toward the door. He was short and stout and the vest he wore strained at the buttons over his tummy. Recognition dawned.