“Not a lot. Kassie was sleeping with someone on the show. Don’t ask me who because I’m not telling you.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen online, that young woman liked the male gender, so that doesn’t leave a lot of choices. It certainly wasn’t Richard, I know that.”
Owen shifted on my lap and I had to put a hand on him so he didn’t roll off onto the floor. He gave me a slightly embarrassed look. “Hang on, Mom,” I said. “How do you know it wasn’t Richard? You said yourself, women love him.”
“Well of course they do, sweetie.” I pictured her making a dismissive wave with one hand. “He’s very attractive with those dark eyes and that smile, but Richard has almost always dated the tall, athletic type, with an occasional attraction to a slightly older woman.”
“No, no, no. We are not going there,” I said.
On the other end of the phone she was laughing. “Just because Richard was very much attracted to me doesn’t mean anything happened. Your father is the only man for me.”
I knew she meant that. She wouldn’t have married Dad twice if she hadn’t. They wouldn’t have had so many dramatic fights and so many equally dramatic makeups if they weren’t absolutely wild for each other.
Owen shifted again so his head was on my stomach. “What’s Richard like, I mean as a person?” I asked. “I’ve barely spent any time with him. I know Eugenie and Russell a lot better.”
“I don’t think he could have killed Kassie Tremayne, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mom said. “He doesn’t have it in him. And from a purely practical standpoint he would never do anything that might make a mess on his clothes. Have you noticed how particular he is about them?”
I had noticed. Eugenie had told me that after Saturday’s filming, the body-hugging shirt Richard had been wearing had been sent out to be laundered and ironed so it was fresh for him to wear on Sunday. In his favor, it was the only diva-like behavior I had noticed about him.
“I did notice,” I said.
“Richard can be nitpicky, but he never crosses the line into being cruel. And I’m willing to bet, if the online rumors are true, that Ms. Tremayne was coming down hard on some of the contestants, which means Richard would have gone to bat for them. I’ve seen him do something similar in the past. He’s going to be a big star, you know.”
“He did go out of his way to make sure the change in judges went well.”
“Sweetie, Richard is a complicated man. He can be harsh one moment and incredibly kind the next. He makes fantastic food and he also has a secret passion for McDonald’s apple pies.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Thanks, Mom. Now tell me how Dad is.”
“Incredibly handsome and incredibly annoying. Luckily, your father has gorgeous legs in a pair of tights.”
Mom and Dad were working on As You Like It. He was starring and she was directing. I knew from past experience the play would be fantastic, but sparks—and words—would fly until opening night.
We talked for a few more minutes. “I love you,” I said. “Give Dad a hug and a kiss from me.”
“I will,” she said. “I love you, too, Katydid.”
I finished sorting the papers, put them into labeled envelopes and put all three of those in my bag. Owen sat on my lap, got down for a drink, got back up for a snuggle and generally made the process go more slowly.
I kissed the top of his head. “I love you even when you get in the way.”
He nuzzled my chin. I was pretty sure that was cat for, “Back at you.”
There was a tap then on the kitchen door and I turned around to see Marcus standing there smiling at me. “Hi,” he said.
I set Owen on the closest chair, got up and threw my arms around Marcus. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” I said after I had hugged him and kissed him twice.
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” he said. He kissed my ear, my cheek and then the side of my mouth. I had been going to say something but the words seem to float right out of my head.
Then I realized he was hugging me with only one arm. I pulled back and looked up into his gorgeous blue eyes and had another brief moment of amnesia. Finally I got ahold of myself. “Why do you have one hand behind your back?” I asked.
One eyebrow went up. “Do I?” he said.
I pulled on his arm. “Yes, you do. What are you hiding back there?” He wasn’t really trying to resist so it wasn’t difficult to get his arm out where I could see it.
He was holding a small box wrapped in bright green paper and tied with green and silver ribbons.
“Is that for me?” I asked.
“It is.”
Owen gave what seemed to be a perturbed meow.
“I didn’t forget you,” Marcus said, pulling a small paper bag from his pocket.
I recognized from the size of the bag what the contents likely were. “No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Please tell me you didn’t bring him a catnip chicken.”
Marcus put a hand over his heart. “I swear to you that I did not buy Owen a Fred the Funky Chicken.”
I continued to eye the bag with suspicion. “And no one gave you a Fred the Funky Chicken?”
“And no one gave me a Funky Chicken,” he said solemnly. There was a glint in his blue eyes. He was up to something.
“Merow,” Owen exclaimed. He was not very patient.
Marcus set the paper bag on the chair seat. Owen eyed it with as much suspicion as I had. Then he stuck a paw inside and pulled out something small and green that smelled unmistakably like catnip. “Mrr,” he said happily. He picked up the small green critter and disappeared toward the living room. Disappeared as in vanished. All I could see was the catnip toy bobbing along, seemingly floating in midair.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to seeing him do that,” Marcus said.
I slugged him on the arm. “You said you didn’t bring him a catnip chicken.”
“First of all, oww! And second, that’s not a catnip chicken. Didn’t you notice that it was green?”
“What is it, then?” I asked.
He grinned. “It’s a catnip frog. To be specific, it’s Ferdinand the Funky Frog, cousin to Fred.”
I leaned against him laughing. “You’re making that up.”
He folded his arms around me. “I swear I’m not. That’s how they’re being marketed. How could I not buy it for Owen?”
“Wait a second,” I said. “How can Fred have a cousin that’s a frog? Chickens and frogs are very different species.”
“What? You’ve never heard of adoption?”
That started me laughing all over again. The idea of Fred the Funky Chicken having an adopted frog cousin was, to use one of Eugenie’s favorite words, marvelous.
I was still holding the gift-wrapped box in one hand.
“Are you going to open your present?” Marcus asked.
“It’s not a catnip frog, is it?” I said.
He shook his head. “It’s not a catnip frog—or a catnip chicken.”
I took Owen’s seat, undid the pretty ribbons and carefully took off the wrapping paper before opening the box. It held a white ceramic mug with the words, Cats, Books & Coffee, Yes Please! in black script.
“It’s perfect!” I exclaimed. I reached up, grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. “Thank you.”
“I got something for Hercules, too.” He held up one hand. “Not treats because I know how Roma feels.” He pulled another bag out of his pocket. “It’s a mechanical mouse. You shake it and when you set it down it just runs randomly across the floor. I have to say it was a big hit at dinner tonight.”
“Hercules will love that,” I said. “He used to have a little purple mouse just like that. It came to an unfortunate end in Owen’s water dish.”
Marcus dropped into the chair across from me. “So did you miss me?” he asked with a teasing smile.
I set my mug on the table. “I missed you a lot. All I did was work while you were gone.”