“Lucy is special,” I said.
“You say that about all the cats from out here.” He pulled me in tighter against his chest. He smelled like soap and cinnamon gum.
“That’s because they all are.”
It seemed more and more that there was something special, something different about at least some of the cats from the old estate. I was uncomfortably aware that someday soon I was going to have to talk to Marcus about that.
After the cats had eaten and left, we cleaned up, put out fresh water and gathered the rest of the dishes. As we came out of the carriage house into the sunny fall morning I couldn’t help looking behind the building at the field and the woods beyond it.
“You’re thinking about the development, aren’t you?” Marcus asked, taking the canvas bag of empty bowls from me.
I sighed softly. “I can’t help it. It’s all anyone in town has been talking about for the last two weeks.”
The development was a proposal that had just been announced to build an upscale hotel and spa on the shore of Long Lake, not far from Wisteria Hill, a place to get away from it all for harried businesspeople. The developers, out of Chicago, had already bought some of the land. The idea had stirred up strong feeling on both sides in town. Those in favor of the proposal pointed out that visitors to the hotel would likely spend time and money in town. Opponents were concerned about cutting down a large section of old-growth forest to build the resort and the chance that the pristine lake would be polluted.
“I know Roma is worried about the cats,” I said, as we made our way back to the truck. “If the development goes through, there’s going to be a lot of construction traffic out on the main road. She’s afraid it might spook them.” I sighed softly and looked around. “And I can’t help thinking about the cats that get dumped out here.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.
I gestured at the carriage house. “People know Lucy and the others are here. It lets them rationalize that it’s okay to abandon one out here.” I stopped and turned to face him. “Do you know how many cats Roma has rescued just since she started taking care of these cats?”
He shook his head.
“Ten. Ten cats that people left to fend for themselves. Eleven, if you count Micah.”
His jaw tightened and anger flashed in his blue eyes. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t like thinking about how many she didn’t find,” I said as we started walking again. “If it’s busy out here, if there’s more activity, more traffic, those cats will be dumped somewhere else.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Marcus said as we reached the truck. “I’ll talk to Roma. Either way, no matter what happens with the development, we need to do something about so many cats just being dumped.”
I leaned against his shoulder for a moment and smiled up at him. Marcus had a kind heart underneath his play-by-the-rules-detective exterior.
I unlocked the truck and slid behind the wheel, checking my watch as I did so. “Do you have time for breakfast at Eric’s?” I asked. “My treat.”
He leaned in the open passenger door and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to make amends for laughing at me with coffee and one of Eric’s breakfast sandwiches?”
“Yes,” I said.
He did smile then. “Well, lucky for you that will work.”
I leaned across the seat and kissed him.
“That works, too.” He caught my shoulder with one hand and kissed me again.
For a moment I forgot what I was going to do next. His kisses still had that effect on me. He had that effect on me.
I pulled back, very reluctantly. “Um, okay, so Eric’s. For breakfast.”
Marcus pulled a hand over his chin. He cleared his throat. “Right.”
Since it was early I had no trouble finding a parking place on the street just down from Eric’s Place.
“Do you think it’s too early to call Thorsten?” Marcus asked as we started along the sidewalk.
“No,” I said, stopping to scrape a clump of mud off my boot. “You could have called him at six a.m. You know the saying, the early bird gets the worm?”
“I get it. Thorsten is the early bird.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
I shook my head. “Uh-uh. He’s the guy who wakes up the early bird.”
Marcus laughed. “That has to have come from Mary.”
I grinned. “Good guess.”
Mary Lowe worked for me at the library. She looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother with her sensible shoes and decorated sweaters for every occasion. She was also state kickboxing champion for her age and weight class.
“And I think the comment comes from first hand knowledge. Back before Mary was a responsible, married grandmother I think she and Thorsten may have had a thing.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What kind of a thing? He’s younger than she is.”
“I know he is,” I said, “which is why I didn’t ask any questions. I was afraid she might tell me. I know he’s seen her dance.”
“Kathleen, a lot of people have seen Mary dance—including you.”
I winced. “Don’t remind me. It took me about two weeks until I could look her directly in the eye.”
I had discovered—very much by accident—that Mary danced on amateur night complete with lacy corset and a feathered fan at a bar up on the highway that featured exotic dancing. I tipped my head in the direction of the café’s door. “Try Thorsten and I’ll go get us a table.”
Eric’s was quiet, even for a Friday morning. There were two men at the counter who I knew worked at the marina and a woman and two other men I didn’t recognize at a table at the far end of the room.
Eric himself was at the counter. He raised a hand in hello. “Sit anywhere, Kathleen,” he called. “Claire will be right out.”
“Thanks,” I said, heading for my favorite table in the front window. I could see Marcus on the sidewalk. I was guessing he’d reached Thorsten. He was holding his phone to his ear with one hand and gesturing with the other.
I hung my purse over the back of the chair and pulled off my hoodie, looking up to see Claire approaching with coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, as she began to fill the mugs on the table. She didn’t ask if we wanted coffee. She knew both of us well enough to know the answer by now.
“Would you like a menu?” Claire asked. “Or do you know what you’d like?
“Two breakfast sandwiches, please.” I looked around. “It’s awfully quiet this morning.”
She nodded. “There’s a breakfast meeting about the proposal for Long Lake over at the community center. We catered it for them. Nic is working over there. Eric just came back.”
“I thought that was tomorrow,” I said, reaching for the small pitcher of cream Claire had set in the middle of the table.
She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to see if anyone needed anything from her. One of the men at the table pointed at his cup. Claire nodded before she turned back to me. “It was,” she said. “They changed the date at the last minute. Some environmental group is getting involved.” She turned toward the other table. “Your sandwiches won’t be very long.”
I had just taken the first sip of my coffee when Marcus came though the door of the café. He looked around for me, and then, as his gaze slid by the three people at the nearby table he just stopped, staring at them without moving, as though he’d forgotten about me, forgotten why he was there.
I got to my feet but the woman at the table was faster. She pushed her chair back and stood up, surprise clear in her wide-eyed expression. “Marcus?” she said.
The two men with her turned toward the door when she spoke. They both looked as surprised as she did. Her astonishment had already been replaced with a delighted smile. She made her way across the café, maneuvering quickly around chairs and tables and threw her arms around Marcus. One of the men was already on his feet, a smile stretching across his face. Marcus was smiling, too. And hugging the woman.