I liked Hannah, and not just because she was Marcus’s sister. “I can’t believe she did this.” I held up the check.
He picked up his fork. “She’s really grateful about how you and your mother saved Hester’s Girls.”
Ben Saroyan was directing Walking Backwards. The play, which had had more than one incarnation, was based on a prize-winning article about Hester’s Girls, which worked with teenage alcoholics. The group had lost its prize money when it was discovered that the winning article hadn’t exactly been written by the young woman whose name was on the piece. Ben had given my mother her first directing job, and my parents—who were both actors—had put together a benefit for Hester’s Girls and raised enough money to keep the program going.
I’d flown back to Boston for a long weekend in November to help with the benefit, although the lion’s share of the work had been done by my mother.
Marcus gestured at the check. “Kathleen, that’s about to go in your sauce.”
I set the card on the table beside me and folded the check on top of it. “She didn’t have to do this,” I said. “I did very little, and my mother loves a chance to get onstage and do Kate to my dad’s Petruchio.”
He reached across the table for the pepper. “I know exactly how much work you did behind the scenes,” he said. “We can argue if you want to, but you can’t win this one. It’s not a lot of money, but she really wanted you to have it.”
He looked over at Owen and Hercules as he sprinkled cheese on his spaghetti. They were watching his every move. “Would it really hurt if I—”
I didn’t let him finish. “Yes, it would,” I interjected. “You know what Roma said about feeding them people food.”
He shot the cats a quick look and all three of them made sour faces.
“I see those cranky faces,” I said. “Roma’s just trying to keep you and you”—I pointed at the cats, who immediately changed to their faux-innocent “who, me?” faces—“from getting sick. And you”—I pointed at Marcus—“from getting a cup of coffee poured on your shoes because you made them sick.”
The three of them exchanged looks again. They looked more sneaky than sorry.
Owen and Hercules weren’t just a couple of house cats who thought they were people. They had abilities that no one but me knew about. For all I knew, they didn’t have the digestive system of a regular cat, but I didn’t want to take a chance on that and I didn’t want Roma—or anyone else—figuring out that the cats were a lot more than they seemed.
I pushed away from the table, went to the cupboard and got a few stinky crackers for each cat. Stinky crackers were made with sardines, and as long as the boys didn’t eat too many, they were okay with Roma.
“You’re spoiled,” I told them as I set a little pile in front of each cat. They didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to what I’d said. I knew they understood the words; they’d just heard them so many times that I might just as well have kept quiet.
I put my hand on Marcus’s shoulder for a moment as I passed him. His blue eyes met mine, and my heart literally skipped a beat. Maggie had tried so hard to get the two of us together, and now I wondered why I’d resisted for so long.
We finished supper and cleared the table, stacking the dishes in the sink. I didn’t have a dishwasher—I liked to do them by hand; it was my best thinking time—and I didn’t have time to wash them.
“Did you bring your suit?” I asked Marcus.
He nodded. “It’s out in the car.”
“You can get dressed in the spare room,” I said. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
His eyebrows went up.
I folded my arms across my chest and tipped my head to one side, studying him. “What? You don’t think I can be ready to go in ten minutes?”
He looked down at the cats, who were sitting by the refrigerator. Hercules was washing his face. Owen was eyeing the two of us.
“I have a feeling this is one of those times when I should just not say anything,” Marcus said to the gray tabby.
Owen meowed and ducked his head as though he was agreeing.
I looked at the clock on the wall above the refrigerator. “Ten minutes,” I repeated as the second hand swept up to the twelve. “Starting now.”
I headed for the stairs. I didn’t look back to see if he was watching me, or if he was already on his way to get his suit.
Ten minutes later I was standing in the middle of the living room waiting for Marcus to come downstairs, a little out of breath because I’d all but bolted down the steps in my high heels so I could be standing casually by the window. Sometimes Marcus still brought out my competitive side.
Hercules had followed me upstairs and watched with what seemed to me was a bemused expression as I hurried to brush my teeth, put on my makeup and twist my hair back into a loose knot, following the steps Rebecca had patiently taught me the previous weekend.
“So your brother is Team Marcus?” I’d said as I fastened my rose-gold locket around my neck. My parents had given it to me on the day they remarried.
“Merow.” Hercules had made a move that almost looked like a shrug.
Owen appeared at the top of the stairs then. He meowed loudly, as though he were announcing a celebrity or royalty, and then started down the steps. Marcus came behind him.
I was at a loss for words. I’d seen Marcus in a tie and sport coat before, but never really dressed up. Never like this.
His dark charcoal suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly. The collar of his snowy white shirt was a perfect contrast to his dark hair, and his tie matched his deep blue eyes. Even his black shoes gleamed.
For a moment I just stared.
“Wow!” I finally whispered.
“I know,” Marcus said, and I realized then that he hadn’t taken his eyes off me since he looked over and caught sight of me. “You are . . . wow.”
He walked over to me, still staring. “I didn’t think you could look any more beautiful,” he said. “I can’t believe how wrong I was.”
I felt my cheeks getting warm. “It’s the dress,” I said.
I was wearing a deep purple dress shot with flecks of silver and black. It had long, close-fitting sleeves and a skirt that flared from the waist to swing at my knees. The neckline was a deep V, a little more revealing than I usually wore, which was why I’d added my locket.
Maggie and Roma had talked me into the dress. They’d also chosen the sheer, seamed black hose and the sleek sling-backs that added another three inches to my five-foot-six height.
Marcus shook his head. “It’s not the dress,” he said.
I don’t know how long we would have stood there just looking at each other like lovers in some cheesy romantic movie, except Owen meowed, loudly and insistently.
I looked over to see him leaning around the doorway from the kitchen. He dipped his head and gave me his sad cat pose.
“Owen’s trying to guilt me into giving him a few more crackers because we’re going out and leaving him.”
“He’s probably lonely,” Marcus said. “You’ve been gone all day.”
Owen meowed again, sounding even more pitiful than the first time.
I started for the kitchen and as I passed him, Marcus reached out and trailed his hand down my arm. For a moment I seriously entertained the idea of staying home and kissing him for the next four hours.
But there were people counting on me. I really wanted to expand Reading Buddies, and I couldn’t do that without money to buy books for the little ones in the program. So I took a deep breath, exhaled and went into the kitchen.
Marcus stood in the doorway and watched me while I gave each cat three more crackers and got fresh water for both of them. I gave Owen a scratch under his chin and stroked the top of Herc’s head. “I’ll be late,” I whispered to them before I straightened up.
“You talk to Owen and Hercules like they’re people,” Marcus commented.
“So do you,” I said, smiling, as I crossed to the sink to wash my hands.