Laurie Cass - Bookmobile Cat 02 - Tailing a Tabby (5 page)

She sighed again. “It’s a downright mess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was a pause. “Not really.” Then she spoke in a lighter tone. “It’ll work out. I’m sure of it.”

Because this year, early on, her carefully selected summer pairs had mismatched completely. The lovely twenty-six-year-old Deena and the fifty-year-old Quincy had taken to each other with a liking that seemed far more than friendship. This had pushed fifty-three-year-old
Paulette, Quincy’s theoretical match, into the companionship of sixty-five-year-old Leo, which left twenty-three-year-old Harris, Deena’s supposed match, to spend a lot of time with Zofia, a grandmother who wore clothes of many colors and a baker’s dozen of rings. But Zofia had been matched with Leo. It was a problem and my matchmaking aunt was ready to pull out her hair.

“Well,” I said, “there’s always breakfast to look forward to. And that’s one of the reasons I called. Tucker and I both have the day off and I was wondering if it would be okay to bring him.”

“Oh, honey.” Aunt Frances laughed. “Of all the Saturdays to bring your young man to breakfast, you pick this one.”

“What’s up?”

“Harris,” she said succinctly. “He’s been making a mess of the kitchen all week, working on a culinary creation of his own.”

“Not good?”

“Horrible. I can’t count the number of eggs he’s gone through, and I have to tell you, the smell of burning maple syrup isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“You don’t have an enemy in the world.”

“I’ll have a houseful if I don’t have a backup plan for breakfast this Saturday. Do you have any ideas where I could hide a few boxes of cereal?”

I suggested the trunk of her car, thanked her for the warning about breakfast, and went back to work.

•   •   •

Saturday morning, the first Saturday I’d had off in weeks, started off with a dawn so bright and shiny that the world felt brand-new.

I’d taken my aunt’s warnings to heart and had asked Tucker to come by the houseboat later that morning, but I found some courage, took a deep breath, and headed up to the boardinghouse.

“Good morning, favorite niece,” Aunt Frances greeted me on the front porch. She had a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. “Would you like a cup? It’ll be the best thing about breakfast.”

Since I was her only niece, I didn’t let the favorite comment go to my head. “Is it going to be that bad?”

She sipped her coffee. “You be the judge. But you know the rules.”

“No making fun of the food and always compliment the cook.”

She smiled. “A credit to the family, that’s what you are.”

I glanced at the front door. “So, how are things going in there? Apart from the breakfast, I mean.”

Her smile fell away. “Horrible. Simply horrible.”

It disturbed me to see my normally cheerful aunt look so morose. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I said, and opened the wooden screen door for her. We passed through the spacious living room, oak floorboards creaking, past the end tables and coffee tables built from driftwood, past the maps thumbtacked to the walls and the fieldstone fireplace, and entered the dining room.

I exchanged morning greetings with five of the six boarders, and within five minutes, I understood what my aunt had meant. The young, funny, intelligent, beautiful Deena was pouring coffee for the middle-aged and balding Quincy. She added sugar and a little cream,
stirred it, then handed it to him and watched anxiously until he sipped it and nodded. Her resulting smile was bright and happy and I didn’t dare look at Aunt Frances.

My favorite boarder of the summer, Zofia, stood at the window, smiling at the view of the bird- and tree-filled backyard. Zofia had a tendency to wear flowing skirts and dangling earrings, clothing to match her Gypsy-sounding name. She hadn’t been able to wear that type of thing when her husband was ladder-climbing for a major car manufacturer, but after his death she’d spread her wings.

The white-haired Leo was sitting at the table with Paulette at his side. Paulette, tawny-haired and comfortably plump, had been matched with Quincy, but she’d shown no interest in him whatsoever once the dapper Leo appeared on the scene.

My aunt’s plan had been to match Zofia with Leo, but Zofia seemed to be comfortable with her single status and hadn’t shown a hint of interest in the man.

Unless something changed fast, this was going to be Aunt Frances’s first matchmaking failure ever. Well, not a complete failure, because four of the six boarders would be matched up, even if not according to plan, but that would leave two of them alone, and that would just about kill Aunt Frances.

“Breakfast!” Harris called. “Morning, Minnie. Could you ring the bell?”

“Sure.” I went out to the screened porch that lay adjacent to the dining room, and pulled on the rope that went from the porch to the top end of a bell. Years ago, the bell had been taken from an old train engine and
installed in the branches of a maple tree for this very purpose. The bell dinged once, twice, and three times, summoning one and all to the breakfast table. Everyone was there already, but ringing the bell was a tradition that dared not be broken.

We sat down to toast, orange juice, and a breakfast casserole made of… well, I wasn’t quite sure what. Eggs, certainly. Bacon? Green peppers? And was that… it couldn’t be pineapple, could it? A few silent minutes went by while eight people chewed, seven of whom were searching for something complimentary to say. Harris, who had recently graduated from college, and who had been matched with Deena, didn’t seem to care about his romantic loss. What he seemed most concerned about was our reaction to the food.

“Harris, dear,” Zofia said, “the coffee is outstanding this morning.”

“Absolutely.” Leo held up his mug. “Never better, young man.”

Aunt Frances cleared her throat. “It takes ingenuity to create your own recipe, young man. You’ve shown great courage.”

“You bet,” Deena said quickly. “I would never have dreamed of making up something. Not ever.”

“Interesting combinations,” I said. “I’ll have to tell Kristen.”

“Just think,” Paulette added, “maybe Kristen will name a new entrée after you.”

Quincy said, “And they’re still filming that cooking show up here, aren’t they? Maybe you could get on that.”

Harris laughed and visibly relaxed. “Oh, come on, it’s not that good. Not
Trock’s Troubles
good.”

We all protested. I hoped Harris wouldn’t catch on to the fact that it was a token effort.

With the compliments done, Aunt Frances moved on to the next item on her agenda. “Quincy,” she said heartily. “Did you see the creation Paulette made the other day? She’s a knitting magician, don’t you think?”

It was obvious that Quincy cared far less about Paulette’s needleworking skills than he did about staring into Deena’s eyes. “Sure,” he said vaguely, most of his attention still on Deena. “Nice work, Paulette. Real nice socks you made.”

Paulette stared at him. “They were mittens.”

But Quincy had already turned back to Deena.

Aunt Frances sent me a despairing look. “So, Zofia,” she said, reaching for a piece of toast. “Did you hear that Leo ran ten miles yesterday? Nice to see people our age take such an interest in fitness, don’t you think?”

Zofia slathered butter on her own piece of toast, then added a large dollop of orange marmalade. “Hard on the joints, running is. Don’t want knee replacement surgery myself.”

I watched Aunt Frances bite her lower lip. Something had to be done, and done fast.

“Say,” I said. “Did I tell you what Eddie did the other day?”

Everyone, Aunt Frances included, turned to me, smiles already forming on their faces. They were all familiar with Eddie stories and I’d been told—in a friendly way—not to show up to breakfast if I didn’t have a new one.

I launched into his most recent escapade, one that involved a marina neighbor’s eighty-pound black
Labrador retriever, a bit of bread fallen from who knew where, and a short cat vs. dog tussle over said bread. Soon everyone was laughing and I breathed a small internal sigh of relief that Aunt Frances was joining in.

Eddie to the rescue. The world was indeed a mysterious place.

•   •   •

“Good morning, Minnie.” My left-hand neighbor, Louisa, pulled her long white hair into a ponytail and tied it with a scarf. “The weather forecasters have been at it again, did you see? Wish I could have had a job that let me make so many mistakes.”

“Last I checked,” I said, looking at the blue sky, “they were saying mostly sunny and mid-seventies.”

“You poor dear,” she said sympathetically. “On your Saturday off, no less. Now they’re saying seventy percent chance of rain and high sixties.” She turned and pointed to the west.

I looked where her index finger was aiming. A solid line of clouds was low on the horizon and inching our way. “Maybe it’ll blow apart.” But the line was dark and thick and heavy. I tried another possibility. “Or maybe it’ll stay out on Lake Michigan. That happens, sometimes.”

Louisa studied the incoming weather, an educated gaze born from years of Great Lakes boating. She pursed her lips, deepening the small vertical lines around her mouth, and shook her head. “Not today. It’s going to start raining around eleven and it’s not going to quit for hours.”

“Little Miss Sunshine, you are not,” I said wryly. “Tucker and I were going to go out on Janay Lake today.” So much for the picnic I was going to make. So
much for the route I’d laid out, and so much for the bottle of wine Kristen had recommended.

“Hmm.” Louisa put her hand to her forehead and frowned mightily. “You and that fine-looking young doctor? My, my. What could two young, single people possibly do on a rainy day?”

I tried not to laugh. “How do you know I’m that kind of girl?”

“If the circumstances are right, we’re
all
that kind of girl.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Have a nice day, dear.”

This time I did laugh.

•   •   •

While I waited for Tucker to show up, I came up with numerous alternative plans for the day that ranged from sitting around the boat and hoping Louisa was wrong about the weather to driving to Traverse City and trying every brewpub in town, to driving back and forth across the Mackinac Bridge hoping to watch a thousand-foot freighter cruise underneath us.

I stood at the boat’s cockpit, trying not to frown at the incoming weather. “We’re not going to let a little rain stop us from having fun,” I said out loud. “We’re just not.”

Eddie, who was lying on the back of the dining area’s bench seat, opened one eye, then closed it again just as Tucker came to the door.

“Knock, knock,” he said through the screen.

“Hey there.” I felt a happy smile on my face and saw an answering one on his. “Come on in. Welcome to my humble abode.”

He stepped inside, and while the houseboat had always seemed just the right size for me, it suddenly
seemed far too small with the addition of a five-foot-ten, broad-shouldered man.

“This is really great.” He looked out the front window and ran his hand along the cockpit’s dashboard. “When you get tired of people, you just untie your house and go for a boat ride.”

It was a common reaction for first-time visitors. I decided not to tell him about the utilitarian technicalities involved in detaching. Let the boy keep his illusions.

“And this galley.” He grinned at the miniature kitchen. “What more do you need?”

“Mrr.”

Tucker spun around. Eddie was now standing up on the back of the seat and stretching his head high. The furry face and the human face weren’t exactly eye to eye, but it was pretty close.

“Ah.” Tucker lifted a hesitant hand. “This must be Eddie.” He looked at me. “Is it okay if I pet him?”

“As long as you don’t mind getting cat hair all over you.”

Tucker looked at his clothes. Dark red polo shirt over khaki shorts. “It’ll come off, won’t it?”

Eventually. “You didn’t have cats growing up, did you?”

He shook his head and gave Eddie a tentative rub. Eddie immediately pushed against the pat, putting his weight into it, which was enough force that Tucker’s weight was shifted. He took half a step backward. “Cat’s got some strength, doesn’t he?”

“You should smell his breath.”

Tucker eyed Eddie. “Um…”

I laughed. “Joking. His breath isn’t that bad.” Most
of the time. I watched Eddie watching Tucker. My little pal was being as tentative with my boyfriend as my boyfriend was being with my cat. For a brief second I considered telling Tucker that Eddie liked being talked to, but I ran the conversation through my head and gave it a pass.

“So,” I said, “what do you want to—”

Ka-bam!

A clap of thunder buffeted the air, so intense it was almost too loud to be heard. On its heels came a sizzle of lightning that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

“Mrr,” Eddie said.

I wasn’t sure if he was protesting the storm or the way Tucker was petting him. “So,” I tried again. “What do you want to—”

Rain fell from the sky in large, loud drops. I looked at my watch. Louisa had been all of ten minutes off.

I glanced out through the front window, out to the driving rain. If this rain kept up, neither driving down to Traverse City nor going up to the Mackinac Bridge would be very sensible, or very relaxing.

“So,” I said, hoping I wasn’t starting an infinite loop. “What do you want to—”

Tucker help up his index finger and bent his head to his shoulder. “Ah… ah…
choo
!”
He rubbed his face, still holding up his index finger, and sneezed two more deep sneezes.

“Are you getting sick?” I asked.

“I work in a hospital. You wouldn’t believe what walks in the door.”

It was hard not to edge away. “Oh.”

He smiled. “No, honestly, I feel fine. There’s
probably just a lot of stuff in the air right now, with that storm coming in.”

I wasn’t sure that made a lot of sense, but hey, he was the doctor. On the other hand, wasn’t it a truism that doctors couldn’t make their own diagnoses?

“So, what do you want to do today?” he asked. “I assume boating is out.”