Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

As she opened the door, who should come out but Veronica Yarborough, a triumph of the beautician’s art. She stared down her nose at Sunny, who bit her tongue to keep from saying something snarky.

Instead, she gave the head of the homeowners’ association a pleasant smile. “Wow, looks like you got the whole spa experience, Mrs. Y,” Sunny let her smile get wider. “Must have had you up a little early for your usual Saturday.” As she spoke, Sunny remembered that Veronica still had no alibi for the morning when Ada Spruance had died.

Veronica’s eyes got big and she made low gobbling noises as she stomped off.

Grinning in triumph, Sunny went into the salon and put herself in the hands of the professionals.

She heard a lot of tsking from overhead as her shaggy mane got shampooed. Frankly, after all the chemicals and treatments Sunny had tried to make her hair straight or mildly wavy, it was a wonder she had any hair left at all. She’d finally found a Manhattan stylist who knew how to manage rebellious curls. But since she’d come home, Sunny had let her hair alone. If it frizzed till she looked like she’d stuck her toe in a light socket, fine. As long as she could pull it back out of her face, she was willing to make do.

Her heart sank as she moved from the sink, hair wrapped in a damp towel, to wait for her stylist. Of all people, sitting in the chair next to her was Jane Rigsdale, looking like a queen in her salon gown. Even without makeup, the planes and angles of her face spelled “knockout.”

What’s the matter with me? Sunny asked herself. I just faced down the neighborhood queen bee without a problem. Why does Jane rattle me so much?

She couldn’t worry about that now. Jane had already spotted her and smiled. “Talk about a coincidence! I didn’t know you used this place. It’s my best discovery since I came back here.”

Like you really need beauty treatments, Sunny thought. Instead, she gave Jane a tight smile and took refuge in the truth. “It’s my first time here.”

“Oh.” Jane’s pale eyebrows rose as she glanced around, perhaps trying to figure out who’d gotten bumped from the crowded Saturday schedule to accommodate Sunny. “Helena Martinson,” she muttered, then blushed when she realized she’d spoken aloud. Trying to change the subject, Jane asked, “So, is this for a special occasion?”

Sunny felt a little warmth flooding her own cheeks as she said, “Not really.” That might be the literal truth. Will had even mentioned business. But no way, no how was Sunny going to discuss a date with Will—not to his gorgeous former flame. “I guess Mrs. Martinson got tired of my Sasquatch hair. She’s a … good friend of my dad’s, you know.”

Jane didn’t know, but she didn’t ask any more questions, either. They chatted a bit about fitting back into the swim of things in Kittery Harbor. Sunny got to hear a lot of news about classmates she hadn’t thought of since graduation.

Finally Jane was called for her haircutting session. Sunny stared after her. She was trying to be nice to me. So why do I get so witchy whenever I see her? I mean, I hated her Miss Perfect act back in high school, but I should be over that by now.

Moments later, Sunny’s stylist came and collected her. She was a very nice older woman. And very good. By the time she was done, Sunny’s mane had been tamed into a very flattering cut.

Well, Jane was right about one thing, Sunny thought as she breezed out of the salon. This may be the best discovery I’ve made since coming back to town, too.

*

Shadow padded throughthe empty downstairs of the house, enjoying the silence. The past few days he had slept most of the time, even through the dark hours, trying to recover from his hurts. But now after napping when the Old One had gone upstairs, he’d awakened feeling refreshed and full of energy.

He had tried a few rounds of the race-and-jump game, but it just wasn’t the same without Sunny to land on. So he had looked out the windows, sniffed around the doors, and finally come up the stairs. Shadow made his way slowly down the upstairs hallway, dim in this cloudy weather, stopping outside Sunny’s door and inhaling deeply. He savored the sweet smells from the bottles and jars—and from Sunny herself. The door was slightly ajar, and for a moment he debated pushing against it and going in to explore those things on her table more closely. But he decided against it.

Regretfully, Shadow backed away—and then froze, hearing a shifting of bedsprings and a low groan. Then came footsteps and the faint creak of a door opening. This didn’t come from Sunny’s room, where Shadow had hidden by the partly opened door. No, this came from farther down the hallway. The Old One must be stirring!

Sure enough, the older human appeared in the hall. Shadow could see him clearly in the gray light, but, judging from the way the two-leg groped around, he could barely see his hand in the dimness, much less Shadow.

Keeping his own steps silent, Shadow crept forward as the Old One stepped into the room of shiny tiles and shut the door.

Sudden light from under the door made Shadow blink and shy back. Then he arranged himself just beyond the edge of the pool of light. He had played the jump-out-of-the-dark game with other old ones—females who screeched and jumped when he pounced on their feet.

The light went off, and Shadow braced himself for the attack. But as the Old One came out, he gave a deep sigh, rubbing at his face. His footsteps seemed to shuffle, and his shoulders slumped in weariness.

Shadow had never pounced from the darkness on a sick, frail person. It didn’t seem right, somehow; not fair.

He remembered that since Sunny had brought him home, hurt, the Old One had been kind to him in his gruff way. He made sure the bowls were full in the kitchen and had even extended his hand—slowly, carefully—for Shadow to sniff. Perhaps he was sorry for the tricks he’d played earlier.

No, Shadow decided as the Old One made his way back to his room. Another time, maybe, but not today.

*

Sunny returned fromthe salon to find her father up and watching college football.

Dad whistled his approval. “Lookin’ good, kiddo.”

Sunny couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Dad.” Then she glanced at her watch. “But we’ve got stuff to do.”

Not only were there routine chores that had been neglected in a week of interviews and death attempts, stuff like laundry and housecleaning, but there were new tasks, like emptying Shadow’s litter box. And then, as promised, Sunny took Mike out on a grocery run. Her dad wanted a prepared dinner that he could nuke, but all of them had either too much fat, too much salt, or both. In the end, Sunny suggested making an early supper with a snack later if he felt the need for it in the evening. “Just don’t eat all the ice cream in the freezer,” she said.

“If I’m hungry—” he began.

She rolled her eyes, not willing to get embroiled in this kind of argument.

In the end, they wound up collecting the makings for a beef stew. When they got home, Sunny got out her mom’s old pressure cooker. Mike assisted in peeling carrots and potatoes while Shadow ran back and forth on the kitchen floor, excited by the activity. They sliced onions, which made the cat wrinkle his nose, and trimmed and split celery stalks. Then Sunny put a little olive oil in the cooker and seared the meat, tossing the onions in, too. The rich aroma had Shadow stretching up on the front of the stove, sniffing appreciatively.

After stirring the meat and onions around the bottom of the pot, Sunny piled on the other ingredients, adding some water, dill, garlic, and her mother’s secret ingredient, half a cup of V8—the low-sodium variety. Finally she locked the cooker’s top in place.