Софи Райан - Two Tall Tails

“It just seems so . . . extreme,” I said.

I looked at Katie, who was twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “I don’t know what to think,” she said, narrowing her blue eyes. “But I know what I saw and there was nothing wrong with the carpet on the stairs.”

“That young man is bone lazy,” Tom said. “He acts like an honest day’s work is beneath him, and he has a nasty streak—we’ve all seen it.”

Katie nodded.

The old man’s lips were pulled into a tight, pale line. “He bumped my birdbath on purpose. He wanted to break the gazing ball.” His eyes shifted over to the jagged pieces littering the driveway. “He wanted me to see that my friendship with Angie doesn’t matter.”

“But it does matter,” I said. “When Angie comes—”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t tell me that once Angie comes home, everything will be fine.” He pointed at the house. His Scottish burr was getting more pronounced. “He’s not going anywhere, Sarah. If we don’t stick up for ourselves, that pillock is going to bully us all into hiding inside with the curtains drawn.”

I exhaled softly. “Please, Tom, promise me you won’t do something you’ll regret.”

He almost smiled. “I promise you that anything I do, I won’t regret.”

There wasn’t anything else to say. I helped Tom pick up the pieces of the shattered gazing ball. Thankfully it seemed to have broken into large pieces for the most part. I put them in the garbage can, swallowing down the sour taste at the back of my throat as I remembered the day Angie had given it to the old man. Katie swept the driveway with Tom’s push broom, and I used a leaf rake to get the last few small broken bits of glass out of the grass. I had a spiteful urge to leave the few pieces that weren’t on Tom’s property right where they were, but I pushed the feeling away and cleaned up everything. I didn’t want Matilda, or Molly or Elvis, to get cut.

“Let me take that,” I said to Tom, gesturing at the copper birdbath. “I think I know someone who might be able to fix it.” Cleveland, one of the trash pickers I regularly bought from for the store, had repaired a metal railing for me. I had a feeling he’d be able to get the dent out of the birdbath.

He smiled, but the warmth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

Tom retrieved Matilda from Molly and headed off to the post office with the little corgi. I walked back across the street with Katie, Molly skipping happily ahead of us.

Katie looked over her shoulder at Angie’s house. “I don’t like to think that Tom is right about . . . what he’s thinking, but I don’t like Jason.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s related to Angie,” I said. I remembered the set of nesting dolls—a brightly painted family of woodland animals—that the professor had brought back from her last trip for Molly.

“I think he took Molly’s ball,” Katie said. “You know, the one I was looking for the other day. That afternoon it had gotten away from us and rolled over into Angie’s driveway. When I went to get it, Jason didn’t say anything but he gave me that look—you know what I mean.”

I nodded. Jason’s scowl seemed to be the only expression he had.

“When I went out after supper to bring in the toys, the ball was gone. I know it had been in our front yard, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I knew it wasn’t really about the ball. It was about someone being nasty enough to swipe a child’s toy.

Katie played with her wide gold wedding ring again. “What kind of person takes a child’s toy? Or throws a birdbath into the street? I don’t want to raise my children around people like that.”

“Angie’s getting better and she’ll be home in a few days. Things will get back to normal,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making empty promises.

Katie smiled then. “Molly is making a card for her. Lots of purple and lots of glitter.”

I smiled back at her, glad that the conversation had taken a lighter turn. “I’m going to see Angie as soon as she’s allowed to have visitors. I can take it to her if you’d like.”

Molly had reached the front yard ahead of us. She was kicking a pink soccer ball across the grass.

“Backyard, sweetie bug,” Katie called just as the child’s foot connected with the ball, sending it tumbling across the street into my yard. It came to a stop at the edge of the driveway, where Elvis had been sitting watching the goings-on at Tom’s house. Now the black cat dipped his head and butted the ball, rolling it across the pavement toward Katie and me. I bent down and caught it. Molly came racing over, blond pigtails bouncing, and I handed her the ball.

“What do we say?” Katie prompted.

“Thank you,” Molly said.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, smiling down at her.

“Backyard,” Katie reminded her daughter. Molly nodded and ran toward the house. Katie turned to look at the cat, who was still sitting at the bottom of the driveway. “I’ve always been more of a dog person,” she said. “But Elvis is turning me into a cat person.” She glanced in the direction of Angie’s house. “I like him better than some people.” She smiled.

I smiled back at her. I didn’t say anything, but the truth was, I liked Elvis better than certain people, too.

I repeated my promise to take Molly’s card when I went to visit Angie, and I headed home. Elvis followed me up the driveway. He waited by the door while I got my purse and a bag of vintage Good Housekeeping magazines. Rose had left very early to help get ready for a bake sale at the library.

Elvis settled himself on the passenger side of the SUV and turned to look over his shoulder. “Thank you for getting Molly’s ball,” I said, reaching over to stroke his fur. I was certain whoever the cat had lived with before me had driven around a lot with him. Elvis was a bit of a backseat driver, looking attentively at the road through the windshield and making grumbling noises if I tried to stretch a yellow light.

I backed out of the driveway and started for the shop. “I’m afraid Tom is going to do something stupid,” I said as we reached the stop sign at the corner.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Elvis glance away from the street ahead of us and look over at me, green eyes narrowed as though he somehow understood that I was worried. “Mrr,” he said.

I’d considered calling my friend, Michelle Andrews, who was a detective with the North Harbor Police, but I didn’t really know what she could do. Jason wasn’t breaking any laws. He was just a jerk.

I’d even thought about asking Nick to stop by. Nick Elliot and I had been friends since we were kids. He was a big man and he could be intimidating if you didn’t know what a teddy bear he really was. But Nick was away on a two-week course for his job as an investigator with the medical examiner’s office.

“I don’t like the way things are changing,” I said with a sigh. “Liz would say I’m an old fuddy-duddy.” Liz French was another of my grandmother’s friends. She was part Terminator, part Fairy Godmother, in elegant and impossibly high heels.

“Mrr,” the cat said again, crinkling his nose so it looked like he was disagreeing with me.

I laughed. “Oh, so you don’t agree? Are you just trying to charm me so you can have another sardine?”

“Merow!” Elvis exclaimed loudly.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” I said as we started up the hill.

I pulled into the parking lot at Second Chance and climbed out of the SUV. “Remind me to call Cleveland about Tom’s birdbath,” I said to Elvis.

“Mrrr,” he replied.

I leaned over and scratched the top of his head. He nuzzled my splint with the side of his furry face.