“Let me take that,” I said to Tom, gesturing at the copper birdbath. “I think I know someone who might be able to fix it.” Cleveland, one of the trash pickers I regularly bought from for the store, had repaired a metal railing for me. I had a feeling he’d be able to get the dent out of the birdbath.
He smiled, but the warmth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.
Tom retrieved Matilda from Molly and headed off to the post office with the little corgi. I walked back across the street with Katie, Molly skipping happily ahead of us.
Katie looked over her shoulder at Angie’s house. “I don’t like to think that Tom is right about . . . what he’s thinking, but I don’t like Jason.”
“It’s hard to believe he’s related to Angie,” I said. I remembered the set of nesting dolls—a brightly painted family of woodland animals—that the professor had brought back from her last trip for Molly.
“I think he took Molly’s ball,” Katie said. “You know, the one I was looking for the other day. That afternoon it had gotten away from us and rolled over into Angie’s driveway. When I went to get it, Jason didn’t say anything but he gave me that look—you know what I mean.”
I nodded. Jason’s scowl seemed to be the only expression he had.
“When I went out after supper to bring in the toys, the ball was gone. I know it had been in our front yard, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I knew it wasn’t really about the ball. It was about someone being nasty enough to swipe a child’s toy.
Katie played with her wide gold wedding ring again. “What kind of person takes a child’s toy? Or throws a birdbath into the street? I don’t want to raise my children around people like that.”
“Angie’s getting better and she’ll be home in a few days. Things will get back to normal,” I said, hoping I wasn’t making empty promises.
Katie smiled then. “Molly is making a card for her. Lots of purple and lots of glitter.”
I smiled back at her, glad that the conversation had taken a lighter turn. “I’m going to see Angie as soon as she’s allowed to have visitors. I can take it to her if you’d like.”
Molly had reached the front yard ahead of us. She was kicking a pink soccer ball across the grass.
“Backyard, sweetie bug,” Katie called just as the child’s foot connected with the ball, sending it tumbling across the street into my yard. It came to a stop at the edge of the driveway, where Elvis had been sitting watching the goings-on at Tom’s house. Now the black cat dipped his head and butted the ball, rolling it across the pavement toward Katie and me. I bent down and caught it. Molly came racing over, blond pigtails bouncing, and I handed her the ball.
“What do we say?” Katie prompted.
“Thank you,” Molly said.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, smiling down at her.
“Backyard,” Katie reminded her daughter. Molly nodded and ran toward the house. Katie turned to look at the cat, who was still sitting at the bottom of the driveway. “I’ve always been more of a dog person,” she said. “But Elvis is turning me into a cat person.” She glanced in the direction of Angie’s house. “I like him better than some people.” She smiled.
I smiled back at her. I didn’t say anything, but the truth was, I liked Elvis better than certain people, too.
I repeated my promise to take Molly’s card when I went to visit Angie, and I headed home. Elvis followed me up the driveway. He waited by the door while I got my purse and a bag of vintage Good Housekeeping magazines. Rose had left very early to help get ready for a bake sale at the library.
Elvis settled himself on the passenger side of the SUV and turned to look over his shoulder. “Thank you for getting Molly’s ball,” I said, reaching over to stroke his fur. I was certain whoever the cat had lived with before me had driven around a lot with him. Elvis was a bit of a backseat driver, looking attentively at the road through the windshield and making grumbling noises if I tried to stretch a yellow light.
I backed out of the driveway and started for the shop. “I’m afraid Tom is going to do something stupid,” I said as we reached the stop sign at the corner.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Elvis glance away from the street ahead of us and look over at me, green eyes narrowed as though he somehow understood that I was worried. “Mrr,” he said.
I’d considered calling my friend, Michelle Andrews, who was a detective with the North Harbor Police, but I didn’t really know what she could do. Jason wasn’t breaking any laws. He was just a jerk.
I’d even thought about asking Nick to stop by. Nick Elliot and I had been friends since we were kids. He was a big man and he could be intimidating if you didn’t know what a teddy bear he really was. But Nick was away on a two-week course for his job as an investigator with the medical examiner’s office.
“I don’t like the way things are changing,” I said with a sigh. “Liz would say I’m an old fuddy-duddy.” Liz French was another of my grandmother’s friends. She was part Terminator, part Fairy Godmother, in elegant and impossibly high heels.
“Mrr,” the cat said again, crinkling his nose so it looked like he was disagreeing with me.
I laughed. “Oh, so you don’t agree? Are you just trying to charm me so you can have another sardine?”
“Merow!” Elvis exclaimed loudly.
“You’re not exactly subtle,” I said as we started up the hill.
I pulled into the parking lot at Second Chance and climbed out of the SUV. “Remind me to call Cleveland about Tom’s birdbath,” I said to Elvis.
“Mrrr,” he replied.
I leaned over and scratched the top of his head. He nuzzled my splint with the side of his furry face.
“Even with sardine breath, I really like you better than some people,” I said.
He gave me a wide-eyed stare as if to say, “Why wouldn’t you?”
That afternoon I called the hospital and found out that Angie was finally well enough to have visitors. After supper I went over to get Molly’s card. The little girl had copied the words “Feel Better” in purple marker on the front and drawn purple flowers on the rest of the page. Inside was a drawing of a smiling face with yellow pigtails and “Molly” carefully printed below it.
“That’s you,” I said, pointing at the face.
The four-year-old beamed at me. “That’s so she won’t feel lonesome.”
“No one could feel lonesome with a smile like that to look at,” I said.
Molly flung her arms around my legs, hugging them tightly. “And this is a hug for her.”
“I’ll give it to her,” I promised.
I got to the hospital about three the next afternoon. Angie’s room was on the second floor of Northeastern Medical Center. “Left, left and straight through the double doors.” I repeated the directions I’d been given at the patient information desk silently to myself as I got off the elevator.
Angie was sitting on the edge of her bed in pajamas and a rumpled hospital robe, her left arm in a sling when I tapped on her door. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Oh, Sarah, it’s so good to see a familiar face,” she said. “I was just sitting here trying to figure out if I could tie the sheets together and rappel down to the parking lot.”