“No, it does not,” said Brutus. “No lingerie involved whatsoever. And please don’t ask me because I won’t tell you.” He made to jump down from the couch, but I stopped him with a gesture from my paw.
“Tell us, Brutus. We’re all friends here, and friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“In this case, yes, they do,” he intimated.
“Oh, I know,” said Dooley. “Harriet is actually Desperate Debbie, and the husband she was complaining about is you, isn’t it, Brutus?”
“No, it’s not!” said Brutus, sounding a little incensed. “I’ll have you know that Harriet has never had anything to complain about where our love life is concerned. Not once.”
“Oh,” said Dooley. He shrugged. “Well, then I have no idea what she means.”
I had no idea either, and I won’t conceal the fact that it irked me. I mean to say, I never have any secrets to hide from my housemates, so I didn’t see why they would keep secrets from me. It wasn’t fair. But then I figured there was a simple solution: clearly Harriet’s question had been answered to her satisfaction by this Gabi, so all I had to do was sift through the different questions until I’d found the one Harriet had posted.
“Sorry,” said Brutus, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and jumped down from the couch. The moment he’d gone, I checked Odelia’s tablet for answers. I quickly scrolled through the many letters people had sent in and the answers Gabi had posted. None of them struck me as Harriet’s, though, and when I finally gave up I still wasn’t any the wiser.
I found Dooley staring at me with a bemused expression on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Cats don’t need lingerie,” he said, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “If we rub our furs together the crackle should be enough to create plenty of babies.” His eyes went wide. “Oh, no!” He gulped. “Every time I rub myself against Odelia’s new fleece sweater there’s a definite crackle. I hope I didn’t get myself pregnant!”
Chapter Two
Vesta Muffin stood staring at the wrought-iron gate in front of her, then down at the little piece of paper Dan Goory had given her. Yep, it looked like she was at the right place, all right. So she took a deep breath and pressed her finger on the buzzer.
“Oh, great,” a voice spoke behind her. Even without turning she already knew who the voice belonged to. Scarlett Canyon, not exactly her favorite person in the world.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, more a growl than a politely phrased question.
“I could ask you the same thing,” said Scarlett.
Vesta turned to face her longtime nemesis. Scarlett was dressed in her usual attire: form-hugging top, ditto tiger-print leggings, and of course stiletto heels. Her formidable bust was on clear display, and her usual russet curls were a platinum blond this time.
“Are you following me?” Vesta asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Scarlett barked an incredulous laugh. “Following you! Don’t flatter yourself, Vesta. Why would I be following you?”
“Because you know I’ve just been invited by a celebrity and you can’t stand the thought of me besting you for once.”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been invited by that very same celebrity.”
Vesta stared at the woman. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Scarlett tilted up her chin an inch or two. “You’re looking at the one and only Dear Gabi, Hampton Cove Gazette’s very own advice columnist.”
“That’s impossible. I’m Dear Gabi!” said Vesta.
“Yes?” suddenly a voice crackled from the intercom.
“Vesta Muffin. I have an appointment with Miss Gray,” said Vesta.
“Please tell Miss Gray Scarlett Canyon has arrived,” Scarlett said, leaning into the intercom.
The gate clicked open, then, and both women moved forward as one woman. Scarlett was first to reach the widening gap in the gate and squeezed through before Vesta could, then was teetering along the drive in the direction of the main house, followed by Vesta, who easily overtook her, since she wore sensible white sneakers, her usual footwear.
“You can’t be Gabi,” she said, picking up their argument where they’d left off. “I’m Gabi. Which is exactly why Miss Gray invited me up here.”
“I’ve turned Gabi into a household name since I picked up my pen. So there.”
“But… we can’t both be Gabi, can we?” said Vesta, a sneaking suspicion creeping up on her.
Scarlett let rip a melodious laugh, the same laugh that Vesta had learned to loathe in their decade-long association. “Both of us being Gabi. As if! Dan wouldn’t dare.”
They shared a quick look, then Vesta groaned. “I thought he wrote those other answers. The ones that I didn’t write? At least that’s what he told me.”
“It’s what he told me,” Scarlett confirmed with a rare frown. She knew it messed up her Botoxed brow. “Do you mean to tell me he’s had us both write as Gabi and didn’t think to mention the fact?”
“Yeah, I guess he did,” Vesta confirmed.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Scarlett looked as taken aback now as Vesta. “The bastard!”
“You can say that again,” Vesta confirmed.
“He told me I was Hampton Cove’s Gabi. Me and no one else!”
“He told me the exact same thing.”
“But why would he do a thing like that!”
The reason was obvious. Gabi’s column had become so popular in the last couple of months letters had been pouring in, much more than one person could handle. So instead of hiring one Gabi to deal with the onslaught of advice seekers, he’d hired two, and since both women weren’t exactly the best of friends, decided to keep it a secret.
For a moment, neither woman spoke, as they hiked the short distance along the gravel driveway up to the house. Then Scarlett said begrudgingly, “I have to admit I liked some of the advice you’ve been dispensing.”
“And I have to admit I’ve liked some of yours,” said Vesta, just as grudgingly.
“Was it you that told Charlene Butterwick she should settle down and start a family with a deserving male?” asked Scarlett.
“That was me. But how did you know it was Butterwick that asked the question?”
Scarlett made a scoffing sound. “Wasn’t it obvious? ‘I’m a successful local politician but feel as if there’s something missing in my life and I don’t know what it is?’”
“Yeah, I guess that was pretty obvious,” Vesta admitted. “Was it you that told my daughter she should go on that European vacation before she’s too old to travel?”
“Yup. Marge deserves that vacation. She’s been wanting to go for a long time.”
“That was some great advice.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve been telling Marge for years she should take that trip. Maybe now she’ll do it.”
They’d arrived at the house and the door swung open to reveal a heavyset woman dressed in a gray suit. She looked a distinguished fifty, though she could have been a well-preserved sixty. She greeted them with a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome, dear hearts.”
“Thanks, Miss Gray,” said Vesta.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Gray,” said Scarlett with a touch of reverence.
“Not as pleased as I am to finally meet the rising stars on the agony aunt firmament,” said Miss Gray, and stepped aside to let them in. “When Dan told me to expect two Gabis I didn’t conceal my surprise. Though when he explained it to me it made perfect sense.”
“Oh, he explained it to you, did he?” said Vesta, still peeved about the Gazette editor’s deceit. “He didn’t do us that courtesy.”
“You mean you didn’t know there were two of you?” asked Miss Gray as she closed the door.
“No, ma’am, we did not,” said Scarlett, glancing around the hallway, which was clean and fancy, with a white marble floor and a nice skylight that added an airy touch.
Miss Gray surprised them by bursting out laughing. “Oh, that Dan. The old rascal is up to his old tricks again, is he?”