Рита Браун - Cat's Eyewitness

"I do, too. That's one of the things we share, you know, a love of books." She selected a fake sheepskin doll, a sheepskin bone, and put them in her shopping cart. "Maxwell adores these toys. I tell him, 'Bite the man,' and he runs for the doll. If I say, 'Bite the bone,' he goes and shakes it and then brings it to me. You know, Herb, the love of a dog is the most perfect love in the world."

He chuckled. "Elocution and Cazenovia will disagree with you."

"Your communion cats." She laughed again, because all of Crozet had heard the story of Herb's cats eating the communion wafers, assisted in this desecration by Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker.

"They're very religious cats."

At this they both laughed.

He accompanied her as she walked down the aisle, which was stacked with foods, medicines, toys, and new products. How marvelous it was to walk with a woman. His wife had passed away some years ago. Grief still sat heavy on his shoulders, although he tried not to burden his friends. Only within the last six months could he imagine dating again. Imagining and doing were still worlds apart. He fretted over his age. Was he too old? Was he too set in his ways? Was he too overweight? Yes. Would he go on a diet? Maybe. Food was a comfort. He'd tussle back and forth with himself until he realized he most likely wouldn't do much of anything until he found a woman who caught his eye. Alicia did that. But, then, she knocked everyone for a loop.

As he strolled with her, chatting, reaching up high on shelves for her, placing twenty-five-pound bags of feed in her cart, energy flowed through him. When young, his father and mother had patiently counseled him on the qualities of a good mate, and he'd listened. His wife, very attractive, had been his lover, his friend, his partner. He'd chosen wisely.

He felt empty without a woman, and it wasn't just sex. He loved doing for a woman. He loved picking up the twenty-five-pound bags of dog food for Alicia. She could pick them up herself, but he could do it with such ease. The thousand small attentions a Virginia gentleman pays to a woman made him feel like more of a man. Without a woman to care for, dote over, occasionally fuss with and then kiss and make up, what was life, really?

"I'm so glad to be home. I don't know why I waited so long to come back." Alicia placed the furry mice in Herb's cart.

Herb put in a trial can of cat food that supposedly controlled hairballs. "If you want to get rid of hairballs, shave the cats." He laughed.

"Then you'd have to buy them little mink coats."

They laughed again. The glass front door opened. Harry and Susan swept through, Susan marching in front. She spied Alicia and Herb.

"Herb, say prayers for me. I've lost my marbles. I mean it. Sssst." She indicated that her brain circuits had fried.

Harry caught up, quickly defending herself. "Don't listen to her. She's—"

"No. Wait, let me tell them. First," Susan held up her forefinger, "look out the window. Gray skies, snow falling, not nasty-nasty but not great. So if it's that way down here, imagine what it's like on the mountain. Did I consider that? I did. Did I let my best friend talk me into going back to Afton? I did. Tucker, Mrs. Murphy, and Pewter ran through the iron fence—"

Harry interrupted, "The monks locked the big iron gates."

"And we stood there in the cold—which was worse that high up—snow falling, and we waited for those three little shits to come back. Excuse me for swearing. We had no business being up there in the first place, and you can't see the hand in front of your face. It's a miracle we didn't slide off the face of Afton Mountain."

"The Virgin Mary is working miracles," Alicia said with a straight face, then laughed. Herb couldn't help it; he did, too.

"Herb." Harry stared at him in mock horror.

"I'm a Lutheran minister, not a Catholic. I don't believe in miracles."

"You do, too." Susan's lower lip jutted out.

"I do but not—mmm, how can I put this—let's say that there's a reliquary with the tooth of St. Peter. Do I believe it will cure your ills? No."

"But if you were a dentist it might improve business should you own the reliquary." Alicia leaned on to him for a second.

Even Susan laughed, recovering from her snit. It worried her that she couldn't control her bad moods, her anxiety. Harry always talked her into stupid things. Susan would bark at her and that would be the end of it, but lately, every little thing about everyone—including her own self—irritated the hell out of her.

"Locked the gates?" Alicia folded her arms together, leaning on the handrail of the cart. Alicia's pearl necklace, which she wore often, glowed against her skin, each pearl the size of a large pea, perfectly shaped. Her shirt was open just enough to reveal delicious cleavage.

Harry noticed, like most women looking at another woman. She saw Alicia's beauty but it had no sexual effect on her. Seeing a beautiful woman was like seeing a beautiful horse. She appreciated it.

Alicia put her hand on his wrist. "We can settle up later. You go or you'll miss your meeting. You know Tazio will work her magic. I can't wait to see what she's come up with."

Tazio Chappars was a young architect who had won a big commission from The University to build a new sports complex. From this, other large commissions soon flowed. She kept her office in Crozet. The encroaching fame didn't go to her head. She served on the vestry board with Harry, both women exhibiting a lot of common sense. They worked well together.

Herb kissed each woman on the cheek, then hurried out the door.

"He may be the best man I have ever met." Susan put her hand in her pocket.

"And here comes one of the worst." Harry put her hand on her hip, calling to the curly-haired man who stepped through the door, "You're stalking us!"

Bo Newell, graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, owner of Mountain Area Realty, grinned as he beheld the ladies. "The Three Amuses. I'm not stalking you, I'm seeking divine inspiration."

"Buying food for the Almost Home Center?" Susan asked, since Bo and his wife, Nancy, along with Bette Grahame, spearheaded a drive to build a no-kill shelter in Nelson County.

"Yes." He put his hands in his pockets. "Thought I'd go up and pray on Afton Mountain for an angel. We need contributions."

"Not today. Another storm is brewing," Susan replied. "And the monks have locked the gates."

His light eyes opened wide. "You're kidding?"

"No," Susan said. "Harry forced me to go up there."

"At gunpoint, I'm sure," he slyly replied.

"Kidnapped," Harry said.

"Held hostage against her will." Alicia picked up on it.

"Is this like the rape of the Sabine women where they were carried off against their will? Harry just carried you off to the mountain?" Bo solemnly asked.

"Well, not with the two of us." Susan's mood was passing. "Murder maybe."

"Me!"

"Harry, it really does occur to me on the odd occasion." Susan nodded.

"Right here in Pet Food Discounters." Bo, voice rising, rubbed his hands. "But really, Susan, the monks have locked the gates?"

"Yes."

"That will keep Nordy out. Jesus, that guy is like a hemorrhoid. He slips down and hangs around." Bo was warming up, his typical outrageous humor in play. He paused, lowered his voice, now sounding achingly sincere. "Actually, I don't have to drive to Afton Mountain. The Madonna is in front of me." He kissed Alicia's hand.

"Bo, you are so full of it," Harry said.

"Think of me as Divergent Mary," Alicia quipped.

Bo loved a witty woman. "I'll think of you often." He sighed. "Well, ladies, I've got strays to feed. That must be how Nancy thinks of me. Was I lucky or what! I practiced my hangdog look."

"You were lucky." Susan smiled as he waved, heading toward the stacks of fifty-pound chow bags.