I rubbed my left arm with my free hand. At my feet Owen meowed softly.
“You’re tired, Kathleen,” Andrew said, his expression softening. He reached a hand toward me and then pulled it back. “I’m going back to my hotel. I’ll pick you up for breakfast in the morning. We can talk then.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Owen still eyeing Andrew suspiciously.
Andrew shook his head. “No, I’m not. Anyway, would having breakfast with me really be so bad? It has to be better than trying to cook for yourself with only one hand.”
I had to admit that having one of Eric’s breakfast sandwiches did sound better than trying to make oatmeal and cut up fruit one-handed. “Okay,” I said. “Seven thirty?”
He nodded, then gestured at the rocking chair. “Unlock your door and I’ll put that inside for you.”
I hesitated. I couldn’t get the rocker into the porch one-handed, but I didn’t want to leave it outside all night.
“I’m not going to use it as an excuse to stay, Kath.” He made an X on his chest with his index finger. “I promise.”
As long as I’d known Andrew he’d made that gesture to show he was serious about something. After I left Boston I would feel my chest tighten if I saw someone else do it. He wasn’t a bad guy.
“All right. Thank you,” I said.
Hercules narrowed his eyes at me as I unlocked the door. I snapped on the porch light and he jumped up on the bench by the back door. Owen darted in around my legs, and Andrew brought up the rear with the rocking chair.
He set it down in the middle of the floor and pulled out a set of keys. The little red car I’d noticed parked on the street must be his. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. He leaned down as he passed me and kissed the top of my head, then was gone.
I sank onto the bench next to Hercules. He touched the sling with one paw and cocked his head to one side. “I’m okay,” I said in answer to the question I knew he was asking.
Owen launched himself onto my lap. He walked his paws up my chest, stuck his face close to mine and meowed.
“That was Andrew,” I said. “But you know that.”
Herc scraped his claws on my sling. When I looked at him again, he scrunched up his furry black-and-white face.
“Yes, that Andrew.” The cats exchanged a look. On occasion I got the feeling that they had some kind of telepathic communication going.
Owen and Hercules had heard more about my relationship with Andrew than either Maggie or Roma, who were my closest friends. I’d gotten into the habit of talking to the cats after I’d found them abandoned as kittens out at Wisteria Hill, the old Henderson estate that was now Roma’s new home. Talking to them helped me work things out in my own mind—at least that was what I told anyone who asked. I didn’t say that sometimes it seemed as though they were taking part in the conversation.
It wasn’t as far-fetched as it might seem. Herc and Owen weren’t exactly run-of-the-mill cats. Hercules had that walk-through-walls-and-doors ability, and Owen could disappear at will—and did—generally at the most inconvenient times possible.
I nudged Owen off my lap and got to my feet with a groan. “How about some sardine crackers and hot chocolate?” I asked.
Both cats murped their agreement. I ran my fingers over one arm of the rocking chair as I went past it. Owen darted past me into the kitchen, while Hercules jumped down from the bench and waited at the door. “I’m not giving up,” I said to him. “Remember what Yogi said.”
He immediately looked over at the picnic cooler on the floor next to the window bench.
“No, not the bear,” I said. “The baseball player.” I leaned over and scooped him up with my good arm. “Yogi said, ‘It’s not over till it’s over.’”
Hercules didn’t get it, but the words made me feel a little better.
• • •
It was about twenty after seven the next morning when I heard a knock at the back door. I was already on my second cup of coffee. “He’s early,” I said to the cats. Neither of them bothered to look up from his bowl or even so much as twitch an ear.
I went out to the porch and discovered it wasn’t Andrew at all. It was Abigail, who worked for me at the library.
“Kathleen, hi. I’m sorry to stop by so early but—” She stopped when she caught sight of the sling on my left arm. “What on earth happened to you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I twisted my shoulder. The sling is just to keep me from moving my arm for a couple of days. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard of the New Horizons Theatre Festival?”
I nodded. “It’s coming up in a couple of weeks over in Red Wing, isn’t it?”
“Not anymore.” She made a face. “There was a fire last evening at the theater there. Nobody was hurt and it looks as though the building can be repaired, but there’s an awful lot of smoke and water damage.”
“What are they going to do?”
“Move the whole thing here.”
I felt a cat wind around my ankles and glanced down to see Owen at my feet. “And you’re . . . ?”
“Part of the organizing committee that was pretty much thrown together late last night.” She smiled down at Owen, who leaned against my leg and seemed to smile back at her. “That’s why I’m here. How would you feel about using the new gazebo at the library as a temporary stage during the festival? There are half a dozen short plays on the schedule that we’re hoping can be presented somewhere other than the Stratton.”
The Stratton was the theater where Marcus and I had met when I discovered the body of conductor Gregor Easton. I gave my head a little shake. Thinking about Marcus wasn’t going to do me any good right now.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “But I should check with Everett and the board, to be certain. I’ll give Lita a call just as soon as I get to the library.”
Everett Henderson was the head of the library board. He’d funded the recent library renovations as a gift to the town and hired me as head librarian to supervise everything. Lita was his assistant. Not only was she the fastest way of getting in touch with Everett, but she would know whether the board would have any objections to Abigail’s plan. In fact, she’d know if anyone was likely to object. Lita seemed to be related, one way or another, to pretty much everyone in Mayville Heights.
“Thanks, Kathleen,” Abigail said. She gestured toward my arm. “You know, if you need me to come in today, I can.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll be okay.” I raised my left arm in its sling. “But I’ll call you if I need a hand.”
Abigail shook her head and grinned.
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I talk to Everett,” I promised.
“Sounds good.” She started down the porch steps and almost ran into Andrew, who was peering at his cell phone as he came around the corner of the house. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, teetering on the bottom step.
He reached out a hand to steady her. “No, it’s my fault for not watching where I was going.” He smiled. “Hi, I’m Andrew.”
For a moment Abigail just stared at him. Then she remembered herself. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you. I’m Abigail.”
He could still make grown women get all flustered and discombobulated with just a smile. The fact that he was over six feet tall and all lean muscle in his plum-colored sweater and jeans didn’t hurt, either. And though he’d always claimed the smile was the result of four years of braces and had nothing to do with him, I knew he liked flashing that killer grin.
Abigail looked back over her shoulder at me, clearly curious, but all she said was, “I’ll talk to you later.” She flashed her own smile at Andrew. “Enjoy Mayville Heights,” she said, and then she went back down the path and around the side of the house.