Лори Касс - Tailing A Tabby

“Minnie, Barb McCade here, and I have the answer to all your problems.”

“You’ve discovered a way to keep all of Eddie’s hairs attached to him? Outstanding.”

“Let me rephrase that. I have the answer to one particular problem.”

“Better than nothing. What do you have?”

“My mother has decided she’s coming north to spend the rest of the summer with us. Mom has more energy than I know what to do with, so I always have a project for her. She is practically giddy with excitement over the possibility of riding along with you on the bookmobile.”

Though I’d never asked, I assumed Barb was in her early fifties, making her mother seventy, at the absolute minimum, and probably older. “Well,” I said slowly, “that’s a wonderful offer…”

“Then we’re settled.” Barb’s voice held a tone that indicated a dusting off of hands after a job well done. “I’ll have Mom drop by the library to get an orientation. Would eleven work?”

I gave up. If Barb’s mother was completely unsuitable, I’d leave her behind at the library and abscond with one of the clerks. As plans go, I’d had worse.

“Of course,” I said to Eddie as I thumbed off the phone, “maybe there’s a good reason Barb is so eager to get rid of her mother.” Frightening images of harridans and shrews pinged into my brain.

Eddie tipped his head up and around so that he was looking at me almost upside down.

“Mrr,” he said.

• • •

The next morning I got up bright and early. That is, if eight thirty on a Sunday morning can be considered early, which I did, in spite of the admonitions of my mother all through my youth. It was a known fact that you weren’t a slug on a Sunday morning until the hour hit the double-digit range.

“Comparatively,” I told Eddie, “half past eight is practically dawn.”

The Eddie-sized lump that was under the comforter didn’t say anything. I leaned close to make sure he was still breathing, then slid out. The poor boy needed his sleep, after all. Yesterday he’d barely had eighteen hours.

I was halfway through a bowl of cereal when my cell rang the Scrubs theme song. Tucker. I would have asked Eddie if I should answer it, but I was in the kitchen and he was still on the bed. I would have flipped a coin, but I didn’t have one handy.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him, but if he was going to break up with me, I might as well get it over with now. That way I could metaphorically dissect him that night with Kristen.

“Hey,” I said into the phone.

“Hey yourself,” he said. “First off, I want to apologize for yesterday. I was being an inconsiderate jerk and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that when Miller and I were talking and I shouldn’t have left you to have dinner with him and that donor.”

Relief sang through my bones, but I pushed it down. I wanted answers. “If you know you shouldn’t have, then why did you?”

I heard him swallow. “Because I’m stupid.”

Don’t laugh, I told myself. Don’t laugh. “Probably,” I said. “But I’d like a little more detail.”

His sigh gusted into the phone. “Because I’m still new at the hospital. I’ve worked so hard for so long to get this kind of job and I’m worried that if I don’t think ‘hospital’ twenty-four-seven that I won’t be taken seriously.” He stopped. “Minnie, are you still there? What are you doing?”

Smiling, actually. “I had no idea that men had self-esteem issues.”

“Of course we do,” he said. “We just don’t talk about them. I’m breaking the Man Code by even hinting that I wasn’t born with a massive ego.”

This time I did laugh.

• • •

“So you forgave him?” Kristen asked.

We were sitting in her office, spooning up crème brûlée. “When he brought over that big bunch of flowers, it wasn’t that hard.”

“Carnations? Daisies?”

I shook my head. “Roses.”

She whistled. “Not bad. This guy might be a keeper.”

“Still too early to tell,” I said. “Say, have I ever told you how good your desserts are?”

“Only every time you eat one.”

“Come on, I tell you more often than that.” I debated telling her about what Scruffy and Trock had said about stopping by the Three Seasons, but decided not to. No point in getting her all excited over something a TV person said. Maybe it was unfair of me to assume they were unreliable, but professions get stereotyped for a reason.

“So, what have you learned about Carissa?” she asked. Only after she swore on a stack of Bon Appétit magazines to keep her lips zipped had I told her about Cade’s short stay at the county jail and my later vow to help him stay out of jail.

Cade had said I could tell her, that anyone I trusted was guarantee enough for him, but the magazine thing was a requirement for me. Plus, it was fun listening to her make the vow.

“Not enough.” I told her everything I’d learned. Unfortunately it didn’t take long.

“All you have is guesses,” she said. “What you need is some proof.”

I looked at her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She grinned. “Like, duh, right?” She spooned up the last of her custard. “How’s it going with trying to kick Mitchell out of the library?”

I toyed with the sprig of mint that had formerly garnished my dessert. “About as well as you’d expect. Stephen’s really out to get me fired this time.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You know, did I ever tell you about the time I had to kick a state senator out of here?”

“You did not.”

“Did, too. Ask Harvey.”

“That’s not proof. Your sous-chef is so infatuated with you that he’d say anything you wanted.”

She waved off that particular truth. “I must have told you about the time a softball team came in to celebrate some championship game. All women old enough to be my mother.”

Now, that story she had told me, and every time she told it I was sure my curly hair was going to go straight. I settled back, smiling. “Make sure you tell the dancing-on-the-tables part. That’s my favorite.”

We spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and laughing. It didn’t get me any closer to a solution to any of my problems, but I did go to sleep with a smile on my face.

• • •

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and perky. Eddie, not so much. The cool weather was still in full force and he seemed much more inclined to nap on the bed than get up and watch me eat a bowl of cereal.

“I’ll let you lick the bottom of the bowl,” I said.

He opened one eye briefly, then shut it again.

“You do realize that tomorrow you’re going to have to be out of bed at this time if you’re coming on the bookmobile.”

He started purring. I wasn’t sure if that meant Of course I’ll be ready to go at this time tomorrow or That’s twenty-four hours away; why are you bothering me with it now?

I kissed the top of his furry head and left him to sleep the day away.

• • •

Monday mornings at the library could be one of two things, frantically busy or quietly slow, and you never knew which one it was going to be until it started happening.

This particular Monday started out quiet, but half an hour after I unlocked the front door, e-mails started piling up, the phones started ringing, and people started pouring inside. It was All Hands on Deck time, to the extent that Stephen descended from his second-floor office to help out.

I was taking a stint at the reference desk, so when I saw Donna talking to a trim, gray-haired woman and point her in my direction, I readied myself for a reference question.

The older woman strode over to the desk and held out her hand. “Good morning, Minnie.” Her smile was wide and calm. “I’m Ivy Bly.”