Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

Sunny returned to her monitor and spent another half hour making sure her stranded travelers all landed at their respective B&Bs. Then she rose, stretched, turned off the computer, got her coat, doused the lights, and closed the office. Sunny stepped out into full darkness. Although the weather had been remarkably mild, the days were getting noticeably shorter this far into September.

With the front door locked behind her, she shot her usual remorseful glance at the metallic blue Mustang parked at the curb. It had been her first new car, perfect for a single reporter in New York City. But it had rear-wheel drive, which didn’t go well with road conditions in a Maine winter. The proof showed on the driver’s-side fender, seriously banged in and roughly pulled out. Every time she opened the door, metal screeched against metal as if the car were in pain.

For the umpteenth time since coming back to Kittery Harbor, Sunny debated the notion of getting a new set of wheels. The calculations came down to the same disheartening conclusion. With the pittance she was getting from Ollie the Barnacle, she couldn’t afford anything but a used clunker, which would just mean inheriting someone else’s problem.

She got behind the wheel and sat for a moment, frowning. Sure, finances and hard logic played a part in her decision against replacing her car. But the biggest argument was emotional. If she got rid of the Mustang, she’d be admitting she wasn’t going back to the big city, that she’d accepted being back in Kittery Harbor long term.

Not that there’s all that much to rush back to at this point, Sunny thought. No job, a busted relationship with the guy who wound up firing me … Holy crow, what’s that?!

But it wasn’t a crow that leaped onto the hood of her car. It was a cat, a long-bodied, lean gray cat—Ada Spruance’s wanderer … Shadow?

He walked straight up to the windshield, close enough that Sunny could see the tiger stripes hidden in his gray coat, and rested his right forepaw on the glass, as if testing how solid it was.

“Get away from there, you crazy cat!” Sunny raised her arms and began making shooing gestures.

The cat brought down his paw and stood watching her antics as if he’d just found something good on TV.

“Come on now, get off!” Sunny’s temper rose as the cat continued to watch her with infuriating calm. She smacked the glass with her palm, hoping to startle him off.

Shadow raised a paw and smacked back.

He obviously knows I can’t get at him through the windshield, Sunny thought. So how the hell do I persuade him to go away?

She put her thumb on the horn button and gave it a healthy blast. Shadow jumped up, but not away. He sat on the hood, giving Sunny a wide-eyed “Did you do that?” sort of look.

So much for that clever plan, Sunny thought. I could be here all night, until I get a ticket for disturbing the peace, and still not get rid of this dopey animal.

Her windshield wipers were not in the best of shape, and she shuddered to think how they’d look if a cat that size started playing with them. She stuck her key in the ignition and turned it, gunning the gas.

Shadow lay down as if he were preparing to enjoy a nice vibratory massage.

Sunny clicked the engine off. The damned cat was being annoying, but she couldn’t just drive away with him on the hood. Yeah, he’d probably jump off, but what if he ended up under one of her wheels? She wouldn’t want to feel responsible for any part of that.

Maybe, Sunny thought, if I opened the window, I could sort of push him … She instantly envisioned herself half out of the car, leaning as far as she could, while Shadow imperturbably positioned himself an inch or two out of her reach.

This guy’s a comedian, Sunny reminded herself. He thought it was funny to do figure-eights around Gordie’s ankles while he carried that big bag of food.

Still, she couldn’t sit here all night until the cat tired of amusing himself.

With yet another sigh, Sunny undid her seat belt and heaved against her door, which opened with a screech. I’ll just have to get out there and move him.

But when she went to do that, the hood was empty.

Sunny went to the far side of the car, then squatted down to look underneath.

No cat.

The noise of the door must have spooked him, she told herself.

She turned to get back in the car—and froze.

Sitting on the passenger seat, giving her another imperturbable look, was Shadow.

“Oh, come on!” Sunny said.

She made brushing motions, then beckoning ones, but the big cat didn’t move.

She went around to the passenger-side door, opened it, and tried to cajole the cat out.

No way.

When she tried to pick him up, Shadow finally gave up his statue impersonation. He darted from between her hands and squeezed himself under the passenger seat.

Sunny foresaw a real battle trying to extricate him from beneath there. Shadow would probably rip up the floor mat—or maybe her arm.

“Fine, stay under there, you crazy critter.” Sunny slammed the door shut and stomped around the car, already at work on the classified ad. For sale, 2007 metallic blue Ford Mustang, feline passenger included.

By the time Sunny got back to the driver’s side, Shadow was back on the opposite seat again, sitting and watching her. He suddenly yawned, giving her a view of a pink tongue and surprisingly large, sharp teeth.

Sunny hesitated. Maybe she should get Animal Control. Shadow wasn’t acting like a typical cat. Could he be sick? This wasn’t exactly the country, but the woods weren’t too far away. Raccoons and other wild animals had been known to turn up. What if Shadow had encountered one with rabies?

The cat stretched one forepaw onto the driver’s seat and used the other to tap the steering wheel.

Well, I don’t see any foam around his mouth, Sunny thought. With a shrug, she bent to get in.

Shadow immediately settled back on his seat as she started the car and headed home. As she drove, she chatted with the cat—it made a welcome change from talk radio. For his part, at least Shadow appeared to listen attentively.

“You know, most of the roads out here are old farm tracks—they sort of follow the lay of the land,” Sunny told him. “It takes a little getting used to, after spending years living in a place with a grid plan like New York. Although there are parts of Brooklyn and Queens where you can really get lost. They’ve got these streets that curve around—crescents, they call them—”

She broke off. I must really miss New York if I’m discussing it with a cat, she thought ruefully.

They rolled on in silence until Sunny made the right onto her street, Wild Goose Drive, and pulled up in front of a shingled Cape-style house, painted white with green shutters. It had the kind of simple design that had made it easy for a much younger Sunny to draw pictures of “My House”—a central door flanked by two windows on the ground floor, gabled windows upstairs. The gable on the right was Sunny’s bedroom. This had been the only home she knew until she went to college. Afterward she’d lived in a string of dorm rooms and apartments, but if she had to draw a picture of “Home,” it wouldn’t be all that different from the scrawls she’d made as a kid.

“We’re here,” Sunny announced as she opened her door, and Shadow followed her out. He stood for a moment, looking as if he were taking in the cylindrical wire cages filled with mulch, meant to protect the carefully trimmed rosebushes until spring. Since his retirement, her father had made a concerted effort to restore his wife’s garden. Not even the heart attack had stopped him. Sunny had done the work of getting everything ready for winter under her dad’s careful supervision.