Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

Sunny shifted a little to put some distance between herself and Ada. Maybe she was wrong about the cat pee. Maybe it was a dab of very spoiled cologne.

Yeah, right, her cynical reporter alter ego responded.

“Your boss, Mr. Barnstable, has been around a lot lately, suggesting ways to assist me with my financial problems,” Ada said.

That got Sunny’s attention. Ollie the Barnacle turning up in response to money troubles was not exactly a charitable reaction. More like a shark attracted to blood in the water.

“The problem is, all of his suggestions involve selling my house. But I thought maybe I could bring in some extra money by setting my place up as a bed and breakfast.” Ada smiled hopefully. “What would I have to do to get listed with you?”

You’d probably have to start with a fumigator—and then maybe an exorcist, Sunny’s hard-edged inner voice chimed in. Ada’s big barn of a house with its scaly paint job served as a hostel for too many cats to count. She lived right around the corner from the home Sunny had grown up in, and though Ada had always taken in a few strays even back then, these days it was apparently something else. From what Sunny had heard, both Ada and her pets drove the nearby householders crazy. Sunny had witnessed her own dad curse his dotty neighbor up and down whenever he detected cat pee on the prized rosebushes her mom had planted around the house decades ago.

Aloud, Sunny tried to be more diplomatic. “I think you’d face more of a job than many of the people we represent.” How to put it delicately? “Some travelers are allergic to house pets. Those that aren’t might be willing to deal with a dog, or a cat, maybe two, but …”

Ada nodded. “I have more than that around the house,” she said with massive understatement, then sighed, her hands fluttering. “It’s just … I really need to bring some more money in, and—”

She broke off. “You’ve been very kind. Not like some of the people who live in this town.” Ada hesitated for a moment. “Could I rely upon your kindness just a little more? I have this other problem, and I—I realize I have no one to discuss it with. The new neighbors think I’m some sort of mental case, and the old-timers, well, they don’t speak with me anymore. I need some advice—some help—and it seems as though I have no one I can trust.”

The image of Ada sitting alone in her house with only the cats for company made Sunny regret her uncharitable thoughts. “What’s the trouble?” she asked.

Ada gave her an embarrassed smile. “It seems I’ve misplaced a lottery ticket …”

You start to sympathize with people, and this is what you get, Sunny’s inner reporter scolded. She tried not to roll her eyes at this offbeat turn in the conversation. Before Ada could explain any more, they were interrupted by a hand slapping at the door.

Sunny looked over to find a guy wearing muddy jeans and the kind of undershirt known in some circles as a “wifebeater,” teetering under an enormous bag of … dry cat food?

“Mr. Judson in the store orders in bulk for me, and once a week my son picks up our supplies,” Ada explained, noticing the look of confusion on Sunny’s face.

It took Sunny a moment to recognize the guy under the cat food as Ada’s son, Gordie Spruance. As a kid, she remembered a somewhat more mainstream Ada hopping like a sparrow around her big, slow-moving, egg-shaped son. Gordie was about five years older and had about fifty pounds on Sunny back then—and he’d had a tendency toward bullying that Sunny had curbed with a sharp knee where he’d least expected it.

Well, he’s lost weight, she found herself thinking. Maybe a little too much.

The arms and chest revealed under the straps of his un-dershirt were more stringy than scrawny. He’d inherited his mother’s oversized nose, but the skin of his face seemed pulled overly tight to cover that hooter. And the inflamed acne would have been more at home on a teenager’s cheeks than those of a guy pushing forty.

Gordie edged the door open with his foot. “Ma,” he called, drawing out the word to end with a bit of a whine. After that one word, and without waiting for a response, he turned to a rusty tan pickup parked down the block and manhandled his heavy load toward the tarp-covered truck bed.

As he moved to wrestle the big bag into place, a low, long gray form came slinking out of the darkness and started twining around Gordie’s ankles.

Ada started in surprise at the sight of the cat. “Shadow! What are you doing all the way over here?”

She gave Sunny the sort of look parents might use while describing a rambunctious child. “Ever since he turned up at the house, I’ve called him that because of his color. He’s a bit of a traveler. I never know where I’ll run into him around town.”

Sunny said nothing, watching Gordie aim a surreptitious kick at the cat as soon as his mother wasn’t looking. Shadow, however, seemed to expect the move. The cat dodged without even seeming to try, prowling off as Gordie, thrown off balance, staggered around under the weight of the industrial-sized feed package.

“Careful, Gordie,” Ada called, having completely missed the reason behind why her son was dancing down the street trying not to lose his load or his footing.

The huge bag of cat food looked to weigh almost as much as Gordie did, but after a brief struggle he managed to get his unwieldy burden stowed away in the pickup.

Ada Spruance stood in silence as her son shuffled toward the front of the truck, jerking his head at her in a “come on” gesture. But as Gordie stood with his back turned, putting his key in the lock, words came in a rush from the Cat Lady. “I’ve been playing that Powerball lottery ever since they picked it up for Maine,” she said, “twice a week for years now, the same six numbers. I need someone to help find my lost ticket.”

Sunny’s dad threw an occasional dollar at the lottery—usually when the prize got into the nine-figure bracket—and he was always losing his tickets, too. Sunny forced herself not to sigh. A deep inhale didn’t seem like a good idea with the Cat Lady standing so close by.

“I didn’t even realize I had a winner until I was spreading some old newspaper around the litter boxes today,” she explained. “When I realized those were my numbers, I started looking. I have to find it quickly, you see. Two weeks from tomorrow, a year will have gone by,” Ada continued, “and after that, the ticket’s no good anymore. So I’ve got to turn it up soon.” She shot a pleading glance at Sunny.

“It’s not a really big winner,” she went on. “I’m not sure what it’s worth anymore—something like six or eight million dollars.”

2

Well, that shutup the snarky voice in the back of Sunny’s head. She stood there, stunned, as the Cat Lady bustled toward the door after her son.

But Sunny managed to get her wits together and sprint to the door before Ada Spruance got into the cab of Gordie’s pickup.

“If you’d like some help, I could … inspect the premises,” she called out.

Ada picked up on the offer under Sunny’s words, and her eyes looked grateful as she nodded. “Yes … yes, that would be very helpful. Do you think you could do it this Saturday?”

Sunny wasn’t exactly filled with delight at the thought of spending her weekend discovering just how many by-products a horde of cats could leave around a house, but she’d already promised to help, so she nodded. “Saturday should be fine. Would you be up at, say, eight-thirty?” Maybe that way she could still salvage a little personal time for Saturday afternoon.

Ada nodded back and smiled brightly, then boarded the pickup, which started up with a jerk and then roared off as she waved good-bye to Sunny.