Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

“I appreciate that,” Jonas said. “Do you know how to find me?”

“I do,” I said.

“Then I’ll see you soon.”

I grabbed my bag and the folder and stepped into my canvas shoes. “I’m leaving,” I called.

There was silence and then an answering meow from upstairs. I locked the back door, walked around the house to the truck and climbed inside, setting Mike’s notes on the seat beside me. Out of nowhere Owen appeared on the hood of the truck. “Merow,” he said, cocking his head to one side.

I knew what he wanted. Owen loved going out in the truck, but there was no way taking him with me was a good idea. I knew what would happen. Owen would do his disappearing act and then go on a self-directed tour of Jonas’s house as I tried to nonchalantly swing my arms around and make contact with him while at the same time making casual conversation with Jonas.

I shook my head. “Not this time.”

He got a sulky look on his face and disappeared.

I jumped out of the truck, leaving the driver’s door open, felt around on the hood and somehow managed to grab him. He reappeared, looking even more disgruntled than he had before.

“Not this time,” I repeated.

I set him on the path. He refused to look at me, starting around the house in a snit. He flicked his tail in my direction just as he turned the corner and then once again he disappeared.

I got back in the truck, wondering what it was like to have normal cats.

The flea market was winding down, so there weren’t many people around. I didn’t unearth any maps, but I did come across a poster of a large tree covered with dollar bills that would be good for Money Week in the fall.

I found Jonas’s house without any difficulty. It was a beautiful Victorian, larger than I had expected, painted a creamy white with dark gray accents. It was set back from the road and the grounds looked like a park with a well-trimmed lawn, beautiful flower beds and what might have been an English-style cottage garden at the back.

Lachlan was sitting on the front steps, bent over his phone, as I pulled up. He was dressed all in black: jeans, T-shirt, high-tops. When I got out of the truck, he got to his feet and came over to me.

“Could I talk to you for a minute first before you go inside?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Uncle Mike said you were really good at research and I was wondering if you could teach me how to find some information about . . . something?” He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

I pushed my sunglasses up onto the top of my head. “I could try. Can you give me an idea of what the something is?”

He looked over his shoulder at the house. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Jonas to know. “There’s this building in Red Wing that my family owns. My Aunt Leitha was selling it to someone but I want to cancel the deal and sell it to someone else instead. She was wrong and I need to correct her mistake.”

“You mean, the building that may have been the first music school in the state?” I said. “You want to sell it to Johnny?”

He looked surprised but he nodded. “He told me to just let it be, but I can’t do that. If I can find proof that it was the first music school, then maybe I can stop it from being turned into a parking lot.”

“You’re welcome to come to the library anytime and any of us would be happy to help you, but I happen to know there are other people researching that same building, so you might want to wait a bit.”

“It’s Johnny, isn’t it?” he said.

“I’m just going to go with ‘no comment’ for now,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay, I can wait for a while but not forever. I can’t let that building be torn down.”

“How about if I happen to come across anything that might help you, I put it aside and let you know?”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Jonas came around the side of the house then. “Kathleen, hello. You found us without any difficulty?” he said.

“I did. I’ve driven by several times but I never realized this beautiful house was here.”

“This is the Quinn family homestead. Colin—Lachlan’s dad—and I grew up here. So did our father.”

Lachlan pointed to a large elm tree on the other side of the driveway. “Don’t get him started on all the members of the Quinn family who have fallen out of that tree,” he said. “I think it’s some kind of weird family tradition by now.” He darted a look at Jonas and I saw the same mischievous gleam in his eye that I’d seen more than once in Mike’s.

“Don’t you have a couple of books left on your summer reading list that you should be pretending to read?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Lachlan said. He looked at me. “I might come in some time and try to finish the family tree Uncle Mike was working on.”

“Anytime,” I said. “You might get lucky and Mary might have cookies.”

He headed for the house. As he passed his uncle, Jonas put a hand on the boy’s shoulder for a brief moment.

I held out the folder of papers. Jonas took them but didn’t bother looking inside. “Thank you,” he said. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

“I’d like that,” I said.

We walked around the side of the house, and the backyard stopped me in my tracks. “Oh, this is beautiful,” I said.

The thick green lawn was bordered by curving flower beds that were bursting with color. I recognized wild roses, black-eyed Susans and lilies with colors running the gamut from pale yellow to a purple so dark, it was almost black. There were daisies, astilbes and other plants I didn’t know the names of.

Jonas smiled. “Thank you. My mother, Mary-Margaret, designed the garden. When Ainsley, Lachlan’s mother, was alive, they lived in this house and she took care of it. Since then I’ve mostly been just trying to keep all the plants alive. Thankfully, I’ve had a lot of help from Harry Taylor.”

He gestured to a small wrought iron table sitting on a flagstone patio at the back of the house. “Please have a seat.” There were three wicker chairs spaced around the table with fat flowered seat cushions, and on top sat a round wooden tray with an insulated carafe, a heavy white stoneware mug, spoons, sugar and cream. Another mug sat in front of one of the chairs.

Jonas set the file of papers on the seat of the empty chair and then poured a cup of coffee for me. I added cream and sugar to mine and took a sip.

“This is good,” I said. The coffee was strong and rich, just the way I liked it.

He took a sip from his own cup and smiled. “I confess I’d choose a cup of coffee over tea or pretty much anything else. I generally only have tea if it’s late in the day. I had a feeling we might be kindred souls on that front.”

I smiled back at him. “Guilty,” I said.

“I know I’m going to sound like an overprotective parental figure, but Lachlan asked you to help him try to document the history of that building in Red Wing that Leitha was in the process of selling, didn’t he?”

I hesitated. “Yes,” I finally said. “Is that a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not for me. It’s something for him to focus on and right now I think it’s good for him.”

“I’ll do a little digging on Monday and see what I can find.”

“I appreciate that,” Jonas said. “He’s a tough kid, but he’s had more loss than most adults ever have to face. We’re lucky to have people like Johnny and Harry around us. They’ve become family.”

“ ‘Families are like pieces of art,’ ” I said. “ ‘You can make them from almost anything.’ Mitch Albom.”

Jonas nodded. “Smart man.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I glanced sideways as the file folder on the chair between us opened. There was no breeze but I was pretty sure there was a small gray tabby cat sitting on the chair. Owen had gotten in the truck after all. Somehow he had darted back and jumped inside, probably because I’d left the driver’s door open when I’d gotten out to lift him off the hood. He was faster than I’d realized and for once he hadn’t given himself away on the drive out or at the flea market. The little furball was getting sneakier. Had he gotten out of the truck at the flea market? I didn’t want to think about that.