Лори Касс - Tailing A Tabby

Definitely hmmm .

Chapter 11

I’d been wanting to check on Aunt Frances, so I headed over to the boardinghouse after work on Wednesday.

As I was trotting up the porch’s wide steps, I spotted young Harris and the approaching-elderly Zofia sitting side by side on the porch swing, Zofia with her legs tucked up underneath her, Harris using his long legs to push them gently to and fro.

“Hey, you two,” I said. “Do anything fun today?”

Zofia patted the strong shoulder next to her, the colored glass of her costume jewelry rings flashing bright in the sunshine. “This gentleman spent the day updating the statistics for his fantasy baseball team. A nice task for a summer day, don’t you think?”

All I knew about fantasy sports leagues was that they could occupy an inordinate amount of time, even more so at the beginning of your sport’s season. I knew this because the upcoming professional football season was all that Josh wanted to talk about, in spite of the facts that it was barely August and that no one else on the library staff cared about football.

Once, Holly had told Josh to talk about football to someone who cared, like maybe Mitchell Koyne. Poor Josh had looked so hurt that I’d felt obliged to ask a couple of questions about his picks. Two years later, I was still paying the price. So instead of asking Harris about his fantasy baseball team, I gave him a smiling nod and headed into the house.

Inside, young Deena was practically sitting on the lap of the balding Quincy. They were paging through an old scrapbook of vintage postcards, their heads almost touching. While their gazes were ostensibly on the book, it was clear from the lingering touches and sidelong glances that they were only interested in each other.

My genial wave in their direction went unnoticed. I passed through to the empty kitchen, poured two glasses of lemonade, checked the cookie jar, put four oatmeal cookies on a plate, got out an old Coca-Cola tray, and carried the lot onto the screened-in porch that overlooked the forested backyard.

Aunt Frances smiled up at me from the rocking love seat. “Just what I needed. How did you know?”

“Years of experience.” I put the tray on a low table and sat next to her. “It’s what you always brought me whenever I was upset.”

As soon as I was old enough to be put on a Greyhound bus, I’d begged to be sent north to stay with Aunt Frances for the summer. She’d nursed me after I’d fallen out of a tree and broken my arm, hugged me when the boy I’d liked had called me a Mini-Munchkin, and wiped away my tears when I’d been rejected by my top college choice. Every occasion had been eased with lemonade and cookies.

She reached forward, broke a cookie in half, and handed me the larger share. “And it’s what my grandmother always brought me.”

It was a cozy thought. We rocked back and forth, eating cookies and sipping lemonade, enjoying each other’s company in companionable silence.

Finally she said, “I’m worried, Minnie. Nothing is working out like it’s supposed to.”

Never before had I seen my aunt look so anxious. It didn’t suit her at all. “Things will work out,” I said.

“Do you really think so, Minnie?” Her light blue eyes gazed at mine with intensity. “Do you really?”

I had no clue if it would or not, but at that moment I would have done almost anything to wipe that look of desperation from her face. “Absolutely.” I hesitated, then said, “And I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”

“Oh, Minnie!” She reached out and hugged the stuffing out of me. “You’re the best niece ever!”

“And you’re the best aunt,” I said into her shoulder. I gave her a squeeze. “Thessie had an idea. What do you think about hosting a party?”

My aunt looked dubious. “What good would that do?”

“Invite dozens of people, including the boarders. Then we’ll prime people to say how nice Deena and Harris look together, how Paulette and Quincy seem like the perfect couple, and how Zofia and Leo already seem as if they’re married. If we can get those thoughts into their heads…”

But Aunt Frances was shaking her head. “It’s not a bad idea, but either one or another of them has day-trip plans the next three weekends. After that it’ll be too late.”

“Okay. Let me think a minute,” I said, deciding not to mention any of Thessie’s more outlandish theories, especially the one about love potions. I was almost sure she’d been joking, but not completely.

My thoughts brushed up against the ideas of love and companionship and friendship, and how it can be found in the most unexpected places. Look at me; who would have thought I’d find a boyfriend while taking Rafe to the emergency room? And then there were people who looked too hard for a companion.

Was that what Carissa had been doing with Hugo Edel? He said no, but Faye had said they looked cozy, and that was a hard thing to mistake.

Edel had to be at least fifteen years older than Carissa, but age didn’t matter. I glanced over at Aunt Frances. I knew her well enough to be sure that she wasn’t concerned about the age differences between her mismatched boarders; it was just that they weren’t setting up to be the matches she’d so carefully constructed.

“Maybe it’s time for a more direct approach,” I said, getting to my feet.

In the living room, Deena and Quincy were still pseudostudying the scrapbook. I plopped down on the couch across from them. “Hi,” I said. “Where’s Paulette?”

They looked up at me. “Uh…” Quincy blinked. “Paulette?”

“You know,” I said. “Nice lady, early fifties, likes to wear flip-flops, could make a fortune selling her needlework projects online. Her.”

Deena laughed. “She reminds me of this neighbor of my parents, only Paulette doesn’t have eight cats.”

“How do you know?” Quincy asked. “Have you ever asked Paulette if she has cats?”

For some reason, the two found this hilarious.

They were still laughing when Harris came in through the front door. I called to him. “Come on over,” I said. “Have you seen this scrapbook?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m going kayaking and I need to get changed.” He waved and headed up the stairs.

“Kayaking,” I said brightly. “Doesn’t that sound like fun, Deena?”

She squinched a face. “Sounds wet and probably cold. I hate being cold.” She gave a fake shiver.

“We can’t have our Deena cold,” Quincy said. He put his arms around her. “Is that better?”

The stars in her eyes told me the answer to that question, and more. I murmured a good-bye that they didn’t hear and went to report my failure to Aunt Frances.

• • •

On Tuesday, I’d sent Rafe a first draft of his after-school reading program, so that night he was finishing up the electrical work on my boat. Or what I hoped was the finishing up of the work. School was starting in less than a month and soon he’d be too busy doing middle school principal–type tasks to think about much else for weeks. Not that you could tell. Maybe someday, somewhere, Rafe would look harried and frantically busy, but right now he looked as if he had all the time in the world.

“You know,” I said, “this would get done a lot faster if you didn’t stop to look at every good-looking female who walks past.”

“Not every one.” He glanced up from the spaghettilike tangle of wires that surrounded him. “I skip right over any female who looks younger than twenty.”

Which was probably true. Rafe was many things, but he would never dream of being age-inappropriate. On the low end, anyway. “Do you have an upper age limit?” I asked.

“Nope.” He pulled out a long wire and eyed it critically. “I mean, someday I’m going to be old. Wouldn’t make sense if I couldn’t appreciate the female form in its later years. Plus, have you taken a close look at your neighbor?” He tipped his head in the direction of Louisa and Ted’s boat. “I don’t care how old she is, she’s downright hot.”