Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

Helena Martinson was the lady in Mike’s life, and in Sunny’s opinion the best thing that had happened to him after recovering from that cardiac scare.

“Got to finish up a little job here.” Sunny shot a guilty glance at her computer screen, with the web software only halfway rolled back. “But after that I can make my escape. By the way, Shadow turned up. I’ll drop him off at home.”

“Good, good.” Mike sounded distracted.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what Mrs. M. needs?”

“Oh, right.” Mike paused for a second. “Helena got a call from Florida.”

Sunny grinned. “Is she going down to escape this weather?”

“No, it was a call from Abby. She managed to find a flight today and just took off. She expects to land in Portsmouth in about two and a half hours.”

“Oh, Abby! Right!” Sunny had altogether forgotten about Helena’s daughter’s upcoming visit, maybe because the journey from California to Portsmouth had begun to resemble Homer’s Odyssey. Since Abby had taken off two days ago, the polar vortex had sent a sucker punch into America’s midsection, cutting the nation in two between the east and west coasts with violent storms. Abby had been stranded in Texas. As the storms blew eastward, they cut travel between north and south, further complicating Abby’s attempts to get to New England.

Now she was apparently on the final leg. Sunny looked out the window at the dying sunset, making the connection. “Helena wants to meet her, but she doesn’t like to drive in the dark anymore.”

“Would you mind?” Mike asked.

“Of course not. Just let me finish a little brain surgery on this computer, and I’ll be heading out.”

Actually, restoring the system to its previous state wasn’t quite as finicky as brain surgery, but it took Sunny a little while. Shadow took up residence on her lap and occasionally tried to “help” with a paw on the keyboard. At last, she finished and set the cat back on the floor. Shadow made a protesting sound at being left, staring up at Sunny as she collected her parka. Then she scooped him up again, killed the lights, and left, locking the door. Sunny carefully deposited Shadow inside her Wrangler, parked at the curb half a block from the office.

“Now stay there,” she told him as he sat on the passenger-side seat. “We don’t need any more excitement from you today.” Sunny got behind the wheel, started the SUV, and off they went.

Kittery Harbor wasn’t a big town, but enough people worked there that there was a rush hour, at least on the main roads. Sunny took a more roundabout route, but still managed to pull onto Wild Goose Drive more quickly than if she’d fought traffic. As she approached her house, she noticed Helena Martinson’s Buick parked in the driveway.

“Let’s get you inside and fed,” Sunny said to Shadow. “Looks as though Mrs. M. wants to get her show on the road as soon as possible.”

Shadow led the way, tail high, obviously feeling more confident in familiar surroundings. At least he has the good sense to choose a nice, warm house over fooling around out in the dark and cold, Sunny thought as she unlocked the door. As soon as they stepped into the front hall, Sunny heard her father call, “We’re in here.”

Sunny turned to the arched entrance way that led to the living room. Shadow, nosy as ever, scampered ahead. Helena and Mike sat companionably on the couch, the picture of a nice older couple. Sunny’s father was on the tall side, with an unruly mass of white curls growing out of his Christmas haircut, his startling blue eyes staring fondly at the lady next to him. Helena Martinson was petite and lovely, dressed in a pants suit that contrasted with Mike’s flannel shirt and jeans.

In the old days, people wore suits when they went flying, Sunny thought with a smile. Mrs. M. wears one to visit the airport.

“I hope I’m not imposing,” Mrs. Martinson began, then broke off. “What’s the matter, Shadow?”

The cat stopped his advance, peering suspiciously around the furniture.

“I think he’s looking for Toby,” Sunny said diplomatically. Since their neighbor had adopted the blond lab pup, he often accompanied her on visits. Toby seemed to grow exponentially, developing into a high-spirited, galumphing presence, convinced that Shadow was his best friend. Shadow, however, made a habit of disappearing whenever he found Toby in the house.

“Toby is home.” Mrs. M. leaned down to pet Shadow. “Saving up his energy for when he meets Abby.”

“Well, he hasn’t grown enough that he could knock her down,” Mike said.

Sunny decided to ignore that remark, even if it was true. “Let me get this guy fed, and then we can go.” She opened a can of the better cat food, figuring Shadow had been through enough today, and refilled the water bowl. “Okay, little buddy?”

Shadow kept his attention on the food, daintily lapping it up.

Sunny returned to the living room, where Helena Martinson already stood, holding out a set of car keys. Mike helped her into her coat, then she bent to retrieve a shopping bag. “I brought something along for Abby to wear,” she said. “She hasn’t been up in these parts in a while.”

“You saw her in Boston—right? It was the end of this past summer,” Mike said.

“During summer,” Helena emphasized. “And it was just a couple of days while she interviewed around for jobs. We scarcely had any time together.” She allowed herself a hopeful smile. “Maybe one of them panned out, and she’ll be working closer to home.”

Sunny didn’t know how to answer that, so she stepped ahead to open the door. Mrs. Martinson didn’t often talk about her daughter on the other side of the country. Sunny had still been in high school when Abby quit college and headed for California, determined to conquer the movie scene. From what Sunny had managed to glean, Abby had given up on acting and had been working for a law firm.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Helena gave Mike a peck on the cheek and stepped through the doorway. Sunny took the package from her and offered an arm.

“I’m not feeble, you know,” Mrs. M. told her as they stepped down to the drive.

Sunny couldn’t see that discussion going anyplace pleasant, so she stepped around to open the passenger door on the Buick, stowing the bag on the back seat. By the time she got around her side of the car, Helena was already buckled in.

“Off we go,” Sunny said, inserting the key in the ignition. Beside her, Mrs. M. twisted around, waving. Sunny turned to see her father outlined against the light in the doorway, his arm raised.

And down at his feet, drawn by the action, was a four-legged figure.

Hope he doesn’t make a dash for it when Dad closes the door, Sunny thought.

Conversation went in fits and starts as Sunny merged onto the interstate, heading for downtown Kittery Harbor. “Abby and I talk every week,” Mrs. M. said, as if she were afraid Sunny might get the impression that physical distance meant a distant relationship. “Still, I was surprised when she told me she was coming.”

“I’m sure it will be good to see her.” Sunny followed the traffic toward the bridge over the Piscataqua River. Kittery Harbor, on this side, was Maine. Across the water was Portsmouth, and New Hampshire. She wondered why Abby had scheduled this visit for the dead of winter, rather than, say, the holidays.

When Sunny was a kid, Christmas had always been an anxious time. Not because of worry over presents, but because it was her father’s busy season. Mike Coolidge delivered road salt all over the Northeast, and a snowy December could mean that he’d be on the road. Then Sunny’s mom had died in a holiday ice storm right at the end of Sunny’s college term. It added up to a season a bit thin on Christmas cheer.