“We’re staying,” I said with a tight nod, then motioned for everyone to head back the way we’d come. “Let’s go check in to our room. Sharon will be here soon, and I want some time to get ourselves set up first.”
Charles and I entered the sprawling ranch, each carrying an agitated pet in our arms. Just past the door, we found an elderly woman with dyed orange hair that matched the mean Persian cat’s to the exact shade.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said, uncrossing her legs and placing the paperback novel she’d been reading face-down on the arm of her chair. “Mr. and Mrs. Longfellow, I presume?”
I smiled at that. It was the first time I’d ever heard it aloud, and I rather liked the sound.
“Almost,” Charles said with a huge grin to match mine. “For now, it’s Mr. Longfellow and Ms. Russo.”
“I see,” the woman said, tightening her expression. She drifted over to a desk at the corner of the room. “I’ll just update your reservation from a king to two doubles then. That’s an easy enough fix.”
Charles looked like he wanted to say something, but I nudged him in the side and shook my head. Separate beds would make the sleeping situation with the pets much easier anyway, since Octo-Cat threw a right proper fit whenever Paisley tried to snuggle up to him.
“My name is Millicent Strobel,” the woman droned, handing us the keys to our room. “I can normally be found here in the front room if you need anything. We don’t have room service, but I do serve breakfast from five thirty until eight o’clock.”
Wow, that was early, but I doubted I’d be able to sleep well tonight, anyway.
My guess was that the B and B lady gave this same spiel to all her guests, considering the dry, bored way she addressed us.
“Thank you, Millie,” I said when it became clear Millicent expected us to say something in response.
“No,” she corrected harshly, taking the opportunity to look us both up and down and shaking her head in apparent disappointment. “Don’t do that. It’s Millicent to you. Or better yet, Mrs. Strobel. Now if you don’t mind.”
I said nothing as she resettled herself in the chair and returned to her book.
With that dismissal, we left her behind as quickly as possible—for one, because she obviously was done with us, but also because Octo-Cat had begun to weigh heavily in my arms.
“Well, I think we solved the mystery of the reviews.” Charles set Paisley on the floor so he could wrestle the doorknob with both hands. “I think it’s stu—Oh, there it goes,” he said when the door finally popped out.
“Jeez. For a minute there, I thought this was her way of getting rid of us.”
Octo-Cat sniffed hesitantly around the room, his tail almost a bristle brush of aggravation.“I wish she would’ve,” he snarked. “This place smells awful.”
“Hush, you,” I admonished with a scowl.
“Whatever,” my spoiled kitty shot back. “This one will be my bed.” He hopped up on the bed farthest the door and promptly laid out, stretching so as to take up as much of the mattress as possible.
I rolled my eyes, but he was too busy enjoying the soft bed to notice.
“Can I go out?” Paisley asked, scratching at the doorframe.
“Stay close,” I warned before sliding open the glass door that led out to the beautifully manicured property. “You don’t want to run into that mean kitty again.”
“Yes, Mommy! I will, Mommy!” she called before taking off at full speed once more.
Charles took me in his arms.“Alone at last,” he said, giving me a slow, lingering kiss.
“Kill me now!” Octo-Cat yelled.
Yup, this would definitely not be a romantic weekend. Not unless we got our cat his own room, and I just didn’t have that in the budget, unfortunately.
6
“Knock, knock.” Sharon’s singsong voice floated into our room a short while later. I turned and saw her standing outside the glass sliding door that separated our bedroom from a short walk down to the lake and its sandy beaches.
Charles yanked on the handle to open the door, and I rushed out to give her a big, fat hug. Once we’d given each other a good squeeze, I pulled back and studied her face for any hints as to what she’d learned about my missing grandmother.
She simply raised a finger and shook it at me.“First let’s get this picnic situated, and then we can dish.”
I followed her eyes toward a nearby pair of Adirondack chairs with a small wooden plank table nestled between them. On the table sat a beautiful wicker picnic basket. When Sharon said she’d be bringing dinner, I had assumed she’d pick up a pizza or something easy. I hoped she hadn’t gone to too much trouble, considering I’d already called in a huge favor from her, and our acquaintanceship was hardly even a week old.
“Oh, don’t you worry,” she said as if reading my mind. “It’s just my newly famous lobster rolls and bisque. I’m staying away from desserts of all sorts after what happened to our poor Junetta.”
I nodded stoically. It wasn’t Sharon’s fault that someone else had placed poison in her pie, but clearly the affront had taken a toll on her all the same.
“Lobster rolls!” Octo-Cat cried before zipping through the door. “No way I’m missing this!”
Paisley came surging forward from places unknown to chase after him.
“So just a light meal then,” Charles quipped as he closed up our room and then plucked the basket from the table.
“Oh, you!” Sharon trilled and hit him playfully on the chest. She wasn’t kidding about her attraction to him. Thankfully, I didn’t feel even the slightest bit jealous. I knew Charles’s heart—and his future—were all mine.
The three of us walked down to the beach, both animals circling back to follow close at our heels.
“Where’s Chessy?” I asked, remembering how inseparable Sharon had been from her fluffy white cat when last we met.
“He’s staying back in the RV. I just could not get him to agree to the harness today, and he’s not well-behaved like your Octavius. He’d run away in a heartbeat if he could. That little man of mine has an adventurer’s heart, let me tell you.” When Sharon chuckled, her billowing duster cardigan and loosely wrapped pashmina twirled around her hips and thighs.
“Well, at least one cat around here has some sense,” Octo-Cat muttered, presumably referring to that Persian from earlier.
“Mommy, that mean cat won’t bother us again, will he?” Paisley barked.
I shook my head, unable to answer in mixed company. I really liked Sharon, but she was a gossipand a future reality star. If she got word of my special abilities, they’d no doubt become front-page news at some national rag before even a full day could pass.
We reached the beach, and Sharon slipped out of her sandals, sighing happily as her painted toes sunk into the sand.“Still a bit early in the season, but, oh, it’s nice.”
Charles and I followed suit and padded after her with our bare feet as Paisley splashed around in the ebbing surf and Octo-Cat trotted after us from several yards up shore, refusing to get anywhere near the water.
“It’s like one giant litter box out here,” he mused. “It would be perfect if not for all the water.”
We stopped at an old wooden dock with a paddle boat tethered to either side. Sharon traipsed to the very end and then sat with her legs dangling toward the water.
“I hope you don’t mind, I made some supper for the critters, too.” She opened up the basket and handed me a lobster roll wrapped snugly in wax paper.
“Oh, yeah.” Octo-Cat quivered, his eyes growing comically wide. “Come to papa, you delicious little thing.”
I opened the savory-smelling package and set it on the dock in front of him, but Sharon reached over me and scooped it away before my gluttonous cat could manage so much as a single sniff.
“Almost lost your sandwich there!” she said breathlessly, then dipped her hand into the basket and pulled out a much smaller parcel. “This is for Octavius.”