“Oh, Clara.” An arm swept the cat off the table before she could see more, and Becca held her close, burying her face in the multicolored fur. “Maddy was right. It wasn’t just a few dates. Jeff even changed his status to ‘in a relationship.’ It was Suzanne, and I didn’t even know.”
Clara felt the warm wet of tears begin to seep through her fur but held still. She knew her sisters scoffed at her sometimes, but the youngest cat saw comforting their person as much of a sacred duty as, well, keeping rodents away or kicking litter on the bathroom floor.
After a few minutes had passed, Becca’s sobs subsided, and she freed the cat to wipe her face. Clara stayed on her lap, though, aware of how her presence had helped. Besides, she had a great view of the computer from here, and she could see where the melancholy girl was now manipulating the image.
“April,” Becca read aloud. With a tingle in her whiskers, Clara could almost feel her thinking. April had been the bad month—the month on the sofa… “So this was from a month ago. Maybe he really did break up with her…”
A few more clicks, and his page was replaced by one that featured Becca’s slender blonde colleague, only in a lot better shape than when Becca had just seen her. Clara’s ears pricked up as Becca began to type some more, her fingers patting at the keys as if they were catnip mice.
“That’s strange.” She rested her chin on the top of Clara’s head, a sure sign that she was thinking. A flurry of typing followed, but the picture on the screen didn’t change. “How can someone on social media have no recent photos?” Clara swished her tail in the hope that Becca wasn’t talking to her. Because of all the mysteries to which the feline was privy, this was one question for which she had no answer.
***
Becca did not answer any of Jeff’s calls that morning, and there were enough of them that they had become annoying.
“I could break it.” Laurel sat atop the bookshelf, looking at the buzzing device.“Just a little push…” One dark chocolate paw rose in the air, ready to dab.
“You can’t,” Clara hissed. Sometimes, she felt like she was the oldest sister.“She needs it.”
“Needs it, huh?” Laurel turned and began licking her tail. She didn’t have to bathe, but she did like to show off her flexibility on the high, narrow shelf.
“You know what I mean.” Clara tried a conciliatory tone.“It’s how she reaches out without having to actually go outside.”
“I thought she was trying to learn how we do that,”the sealpoint sister responded, her mew muffled by a mouthful of fur.“Get into people’s minds. Like old what’s his face is—at least now.”
True enough, Jeff had been calling since Becca had turned her phone back on. The voicemail kept piling up, though, and even Harriet could tell they were weighing on Becca. So, Clara at least was glad when Becca had ducked out for a run. She came back glowing and warm. And if her exuberance had been forced, at least she seemed to have an appetite finally, although Clara suspected that Laurel had a paw in that—implanting such an idea was kitten’s play for the seal point, at least with a person as open as Becca.
Whatever the initial impetus, Becca poured more cereal into that bowl and topped it off with more milk as the three felines looked on. That she held the bowl and began to eat before hitting“play all” on her message app did nothing to dissuade Laurel, who circled the young woman like a shark in shallow water.
“Hi, Becca—” She paused, spoon in mouth, to hit delete.
“Bec—” Another gone. “Wait—” Gone.
Two more and she was through, but by then the poor girl seemed to have lost her appetite. Leaving her bowl on the table—Harriet and Laurel eyed each other, waiting for the right moment—she headed for the coffee maker. Before she could even fill it with water, the phone rang again. Thumping the pot down hard enough to make the sisters scatter, Becca reached for the offending instrument, a look like thunder on her usually sweet face.
“Jeff Blakey!” Her voice was at a thunder pitch too. “If you think that I—oh.” She stopped so short that Laurel looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes. Yes, I understand,” she said, her righteous indignation replaced by something more like a soft worry. “The station house? Yes, I know where it is.”
Another pause.“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I want to help. Suzanne is—” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Suzanne was my friend.”
Chapter 11
Disruption—even when it resulted in abandoned food—was not something any cat could enjoy. And this latest call, which sent Becca out of the kitchen in a rush, was too much flurry for any feline. But Laurel’s latest manipulation—following as it did on Harriet’s lazy summoning of that pillow—was giving Clara an idea. It started as a twitch in her tail and moved up to tickle her whiskers, before emerging as a full-fledged possibility. Since Clara and her sisters did indeed have the powers that Becca believed she possessed, was there any reason they couldn’t use their particular skills to help out the human who had taken them all in?
The sisters had a quick confab on the subject while Becca showered and changed. Or Laurel and Clara did. Harriet was too interested in Becca’s discarded cereal to contribute much.
“And here I thought you didn’t want us using magic in front of humans.”Laurel’s half-closed eyes could have denoted sleepiness, but Clara knew her too well. She was watching her baby sister, hoping to catch her in a contradiction.
“I wouldn’t let her see me—see us—doing anything, of course.” Clara spoke softly but with what she had hoped was a contagious urgency.“But maybe we could poke around a little. Listen in to on her friends and check out what they’re doing when they don’t think anyone is watching?”
Laurel’s ears angled forward, and Clara knew that she was intrigued.“Spy?”
“Well, maybe not that.” Clara had the classic feline sense of entitlement and knew she could enter any room at any time. That word, however, sounded a little nastier than what she had intended.“Just…see if we can help at all. See what we can find out. Becca needs us.”
“Seems to me she’s doing fine.”Laurel was quick to pick up on her sister’s distaste. And as the slender seal point regarded herself the most fastidious of the three felines, she decided to be insulted. Nose up in the air, she turned away from Clara—and then dipped it quickly down to lick Becca’s spoon. Harriet had knocked it out of the bowl when she dove in face first.
“She’s eating. We’re eating.” The slightest tilt of those fluffy white ears—visible above the breakfast bowl’s rim—gave the sole indication that the oldest sister was listening, as Laurel continued to lay out her case.“Am I right?” One dark paw swiped at Harriet’s broad and fluffy tail.“And now she’s rid of both her two-timing boyfriend and the little alley cat he was running around with.” Another swipe.“Hey!” Harriet sat up, licking her chops.“Stop that!”
“I was afraid you’d drowned,”purred Laurel, nudging Harriet aside.
“I hadn’t,” Harriet pouted, before beginning to wash.“Laurel’s right, though.” She hiccupped slightly as she chuckled at her sister’s joke. Cats do enjoy portraying humans as inferior felines.“Becca’s doing fine, and besides, you were so upset with me the last time…”
Clara sighed and felt her whiskers sagging. If only she weren’t the youngest—the baby, the “clown”—maybe her sisters would take her seriously. Sometimes, she thought, that was why she cared about Becca so much. The young woman was a small creature too, in her own way. And they both needed allies. Which was why the compact calico decided to make onemore attempt to win over her siblings.
“I’m not talking about physically.” She worked to keep her voice even. Any hint of a growl and Harriet would be on her high horse about rank and birth order again.“I’m worried about her emotional well-being.”