Loudly.
Adam laughed in a gentle sort of way and reached out to pet my cat. “Apparently Eddie thinks it’s a good idea that you help me out.”
“Eddie’s wisdom knows no bounds,” I said. Which was true, but I was pretty sure the lower boundary, the one of minimal wisdom, was the edge he was pushing. Though I loved my cat dearly, I wasn’t about to grant him great powers of mental acuity.
“Well . . .” Adam pulled his head out of the way as Eddie flipped his tail around. “If you’re sure it’s not an imposition, it would be great to have someone I know and trust do a little research.”
For a second I didn’t know what to say. Yes, I was pretty sure I was a trustworthy person, but that was because I knew myself on the inside. To have someone else say so was a compliment so deep I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Mrr,” Eddie said, flapping his tail against Adam’s ear.
“Yes, of course I trust you, too,” Adam said. “That goes without saying.”
“Mrr.”
“You’re welcome.”
“M—”
“All right, you two, enough already,” I said.
Adam grinned.
Eddie glared at me and swiped his tail across Adam’s face.
• • •
On Friday, I spent a large share of the day trying to design a book fair flyer. An hour past quitting time, I stared at mess I’d created and came to the not-so-profound conclusion that I was a much better librarian than I was a graphic designer.
I told Eddie all about it that night as I emptied the contents of my dresser into a cardboard box. He gave me a blank look that clearly meant he thought I had my priorities messed up, then walked out into the hallway and thud-thud-thudded down the wooden stairs.
“What do cats know about graphic design, anyway?” I asked, and finished packing without the help of my cat. Packing was at this point a near imperative, because my aunt’s spring-cleaning crew would descend on the boardinghouse first thing Monday morning. It was a little early for them to show up, but their schedule was crowded this year and this was the best slot available for my aunt. She’d said I could stay for the duration, but I’d rather endure a few chilly nights on the houseboat than endure the sounds and astringent smells of a thorough housecleaning.
I’d scheduled myself to work all Saturday because of various staff members taking spring vacations, so I didn’t have time to move the last of my things down to the marina until Sunday. The very last things I put in my car were a small suitcase, my backpack, and Eddie’s cat carrier.
Aunt Frances stood on the sidewalk, her arms wrapped tight around her since she hadn’t put on a coat and her light cardigan wasn’t enough to keep out the chill.
“Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough down there?” she asked, rubbing her hands over her upper arms.
“Just because you’re cold because you’re not dressed properly doesn’t mean I’m going to get hypothermia.” I buckled Eddie and his carrier into the front seat and shut the car door. “I have a space heater, Eddie has a fur coat, and it’s supposed to warm up in a few days. We’ll be fine.”
“If you get cold, you have to promise you’ll come back until it gets warmer.”
“Promise,” I said, giving her a hug.
“You’re a good girl,” she murmured, hugging back.
I gave her a last squeeze and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Leave the worrying to my mother. She’s a lot better at it than either of us. Might as well give the job to the best-qualified candidate, don’t you think?”
Aunt Frances laughed and waved—“Bye, Eddie!”—as I backed out of the driveway. When I reached the road and braked to put the transmission into drive, I glanced up the drive to my aunt. She was still standing there, arms tight around her, only now she looked . . . well, sad.
I sat there in the middle of the street, unsure. Aunt Frances had lived alone for years before I moved north, so I’d never once thought about how lonely she might be when I left in the summers. Sure, the boarders would arrive in a few weeks, but it could be a long few weeks for her. Maybe I should stay. I owed her so much; enduring a cleaning crew was nothing compared to all she’d done for me. Yes. I would stay. I would keep her company until—
Aunt Frances looked up and past me. Her face lit up with a wide, happy smile and she called out something I couldn’t hear.
I turned my head to see the object of her happiness. It was Otto, striding down the sidewalk, heading straight toward my aunt.
My foot came off the brake. “What do you think of that, Eddie?” I asked, smiling. “We’re barely out of the house and her boyfriend comes over. Kind of makes you think we were cramping her style, doesn’t it?”
Eddie bonked his head against the side of the carrier and flopped down.
“No comment? Well, I can understand that. Your little kitty feelings are hurt. You thought you were Aunt Frances’s best beau, didn’t you?”
“Mrr,” he said somewhat sulkily.
Shaking my head, I flicked on the blinker and turned left. There were days when I really did wonder if he knew what I was saying.
Eddie and I arrived at the marina in short order. I left everything behind except the carrier, and it was me and my cat who walked down the wide wooden dock and stepped aboard my summer residence, which was the cutest little houseboat possible.
Made primarily of plywood long ago in a Chilson backyard, it boasted one bedroom with two bunks, a tiny bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining area. As much as I loved the tidy interior spaces, I loved the view from the outside deck even more. The sheer pleasure of being able to see Janay Lake on my doorstep morning, noon, or night was worth the work of moving twice a year.
I set the carrier on the dining bench and opened the door. “We’re home, Eddie.”
“Mrr,” he said, and zoomed out of the carrier, down the steps, and onto the bed, where he would get cat hair on the comforter before I’d slept in it even once.
I sighed a happy sigh. Home was indeed a good place to be.
Three hours later, I’d finished unpacking and hauled all the flattened cardboard boxes down to the storage bin that went with my slip.
After texting Tucker—Eddie and I are all moved in. Miss you!—and receiving a quick Don’t get 2 cold up there see u soon in return, I came in the houseboat’s door and stood in the small kitchen, surveying my home for the next few months.
“What do you think, pal?”
Eddie was already in one of his favorite spots from last summer, the back of the bench seat that was half of my dining area. He’d already prowled around the whole place a dozen times, sniffing and stretching and poking into things that he had no reason to poke into. Behind the small dresser I used as a nightstand, for one. Underneath the small kitchen sink, for another. Now he was lying, meat-loaf-shaped, on the seat back, looking over the houseboat as if he were the ruler of all.
“You’re not the king, you know,” I told him. “This is a partnership, remember?”
Which reminded me of the odd partnership Adam and Henry had shared, making maple syrup and who knew what else? I’d told Adam I would try to help, to do some research. But useful research requires a pointed question; otherwise it’s only information-gathering.
“Which is usually interesting,” I said, “but not always immediately useful.”
Eddie stretched out one paw and rested his chin on the seat.
“Yeah, I know. It’s up to me to figure out the right questions.” I slid onto the bench opposite Eddie. “How about this? Let’s assume . . . I know, you don’t like assuming, but work with me on this. For right now, let’s assume that Henry was killed by the same person who tried to run over Adam. What could a lifelong resident of Tonedagana County have in common with a newcomer with no family roots in Michigan who is more than twenty years younger?”