It took a minute, but it finally clicked in my not-caffeinated-enough brain. “The thriller writer? The one who wrote Keep My Secrets? You’re kidding.” The crime thriller about a family who had vanished without a trace, and the long-lost daughter searching for them, had also been turned into a movie—and had been an integral component of one of my best dates with Lucas Davenport, the gorgeous dog groomer and recent transplant to the island who I’d been seeing. He was practically my boyfriend, although I hadn’t been bold enough to use the term yet. The movie hadn’t been half-bad, either.
How had I not realized Jason Holt had been my cafe regular for the past few weeks? Although in my defense, I’d never paid much attention to the man behind the books. Who knew my sister was such a fiction author expert?
“I think on his website he doesn’t have glasses on,” Val said. “But still, you didn’t recognize him at all?”
“Nope.” I shook my head at my own cluelessness. “He’s been coming in here for a while. He asked if he could work in here for a hundred bucks a day and wouldn’t hear it when I said that was too much since we’re not even open a full day. He just said to kick him out when I close. He even pays a week in advance and I was happy for the extra cash. I can’t believe I didn’t realize.”
“You didn’t have him sign in?”
I thought back. Usually people registered online for a slot, but that was when it was busy and we had to limit the amount of guests in order to not stress out the cats. I hadn’t bothered asking him to go through that process since I had only a couple people coming in these days, usually my island regulars who’d found a favorite cat they liked to visit. And with everything else going on, online schedulers weren’t exactly top of mind. “I’m pretty sure I had him sign my guest book one day, but I didn’t even look at it.” I mentally kicked myself. “I think he did tell me his name was Jason, but that wasn’t enough to get my attention.”
Although he probably liked that I hadn’t fawned all over him. After all, if he was on Daybreak Island over the winter, he probably wanted peace and quiet. It was a completely different island than in the summertime. I felt a stab of excitement. Maybe he was working on his next book or screenplay. I could already see my new marketing materials, announcing that my cat cafe was the place where the famous Jason Holt wrote his latest best-selling book or blockbuster TV series script. I should have JJ sit with him for some photos. That would definitely propel my already famous cat into the next level of kitty stardom. I looked around but didn’t see JJ anywhere. Of all the times to be sacked out in my bed taking a nap.
Maybe I could get Holt to come back for some promo once the new book launched and the movie came out. I swooned a little bit thinking of the quote: Some of my best plot twists for this book came while I was sitting at JJ’s House of Purrs with a cat cuddling on my lap.
“Well, have you talked to him at all?” Val asked.
I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and averted my eyes. “Yeah, to take his order.”
“Nothing? Not even a friendly ‘What brings you to the island in the winter?’” Val pressed. “That’s some customer service you’ve got here.”
I sent her a withering look. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. Plus, I think the hammering addled my brain.” But now I wanted to talk to him for sure. He seemed to love cats, and that was pretty cool, too. I glanced over at him again. We were talking in low voices and he was far enough away that he probably couldn’t hear us, but either way, he definitely wasn’t paying attention. His focus was on his work. Which I guess made sense, since he had so many devoted fans waiting for his next masterpiece. I wondered if I should strike up a conversation now. Ask him what he was working on.
A ping sent Val’s focus back to her phone. “Who are you talking to?” I demanded.
“Ava-Rose.” Val heaved a dramatic sigh. “This Thanksgiving party at the marina Mom recommended me for. It’s like a twenty-four-seven job.”
“Ava-Rose Buxton? She knows how to text?” I almost felt sympathy for my sister. Ava-Rose was an island legend: rich, needy, and vocal. She had lived here her entire life, part of a long line of Buxtons who called Daybreak their home. She’d also managed to coerce three (four?) husbands to live here with her until she ultimately and quite literally voted them off the island.
And despite her numerous plastic surgeries and constant visits to the hairdresser to keep her looking young and fabulous, she had to be pushing eighty. Maybe more. She basically looked the same as she had when I’d left the island for college, which I found a little disturbing, but it seemed to work for her.
“Of course she knows how to text. And call. And track me down no matter where I am. And she knows I need a rave recommendation because it’s one of my first real jobs,” Val said. “So I have to suck it up. She doesn’t believe in doing favors for friends.”
Val had taken a bold step and created her own party-planning business last month, on the heels of her possibly bolder step of filing for divorce from her husband, the not-so-charming Cole Tanner.
But her new life was working for her. Val was happier than I’d seen her in years. She smiled more, and she seemed more engaged her in life, as if she was actually, finally, pleased to be living it. She’d even changed her hair, cutting her long, reddish-brown locks into a stylish, chin-length, layered look with bold red highlights. She’d been mixing up her wardrobe, trading in the boring, preppy style she’d adopted when she’d started living like a Tanner for a funkier, hipper look with bold jewelry and bright colors. And even when she was exasperated with someone or something, she still had that glow of someone who had found her place.
She was also living here at Grandpa’s with us. She’d come to stay when she first moved out of the house she’d shared with Cole, and had never left. It helped that she was completely in love with Ethan, my business partner, and he with her, in another surprising turn of events this summer. It was kind of weird that they were theoretically living together already, since he lived here, too, at the moment, but it seemed to work for them.
I was happy for her.
I grinned. “Who knew the James girls were such entrepreneurs?”
“I know. We kind of rock.” Val grinned back. “I have to go bring some linen samples to Ava-Rose. I’ll see you later. Hey, when Ethan comes back will you tell him where I went?”
“Of course. I know he’ll find it hard to be without you for the next hour,” I teased.
Val turned bright red and smacked my arm.
“Ow. Hey, it’s cute,” I said. “I like that you and Ethan are an item. Just don’t break up with him and make him move back to California.”
Ethan had been a rock for her during the divorce, which we’d all known had the potential to get ugly. Their relationship had grown from there, and grown quickly. I’d definitely been a bit hesitant about the whole thing, since it seemed soon and sudden, but I get that I’m kind of a commitment-phobe and other people have an easier time jumping in and out of relationships.
Val’s face turned serious. “Don’t say that. I want this to work.”
The door to the cafe opened and a woman stuck her head in. “Hello? Are you open?”
I hurried over to greet her. “Hello! Yes, please come on in.”
“Oh, thank you. It’s already so cold out. And I heard a storm is coming.” The woman stepped all the way inside, letting the door bang shut behind her. She pulled off her bright red parka and her slouchy knit hat, letting loose a nest of frizzy graying brown curls. She ran a self-conscious hand through them. She wore a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, which dwarfed her small frame and made her look like a displaced farmer. Her hiking boots had seen better days.
“I heard that, too.” I wrinkled my nose. “A nor’easter. A hazard of this time of year on the island. Hopefully it’s just a lot of hype. So what can I do for you?”
“I really wanted to visit with some cats. I’ve heard a lot about this place. But I don’t have an appointment.” She looked worried. “Is that all right?”
“Of course,” I assured her, lifting my hand in a wave to Val, who slipped out the door. “I keep a strict schedule in the summer season, when there are a lot of people around. I don’t want the cats to be overwhelmed by having too many people in here at once. But when most people leave the island for the winter, it’s a lot more manageable.”
“Excellent.” The woman dropped her bag and rubbed her hands together. “How much do I owe you?”
“An hour with the cats is fifteen dollars.” I glanced over at the writer, wondering if he’d jump up and demand a refund for the overpayment, but he hadn’t even seemed to realize anyone else had come in.
That must be some book he was working on.
The woman reached into her pocket and handed me a ten and a five. “So how many cats do you keep here?”
“Usually ten at a time. That’s Muffin,” I said, when she stopped to pet the orange-and-white guy tucked into a ball on a window seat. Muffin opened one eye and regarded her, then went back to sleep.
She scratched his ears, then plucked at his scruff. “He seems dehydrated,” she remarked, pointing at the slow return of his fur back to its rightful place. “If the fur doesn’t snap back right away, that’s what that means.”
I nodded, trying to keep a pleasant smile on my face. Years of rescue work had taught me when a cat was dehydrated, and who was this woman anyway? “Yes, he has an appointment this week with the vet. He’s new to the cafe, and had his checkup when he was first rescued, but he hasn’t been feeling himself the past day or so. Would you like a tour?” I asked, before she could offer any more opinions.
“That would be lovely.”
I motioned for her to follow me into the cafe area. “We’re doing some remodeling, which will be much more conducive to the setup I want.…” I trailed off when I realized the woman wasn’t behind me anymore. She’d stopped in her tracks, staring at the writer sitting at his table. Apparently she wasn’t as clueless as me, and had recognized him.
And for the first time all day, Jason Holt seemed to realize someone was paying attention to him. His gaze drifted up from the computer and met the woman’s. Their eyes locked, and something passed through the room that didn’t give me the warm fuzzies.
The woman broke eye contact first and turned back to me with a smile that looked forced—and a bit manic, making the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth stand out even more. I couldn’t figure out if she was older than I’d originally thought or younger than the wrinkles made her look. “So where are the rest of the cats?” she asked brightly.
“Oh, they’re around,” I said. “They have a bunch of places where they like to hang out. There’s a couple in the tree over there, and there’s one up in the window perch.” I pointed, but the woman was once again not paying attention. I followed her gaze to where JJ had just sauntered into the room, fresh off his afternoon nap. He sat, looked up at her, and squeaked—his signature sound, part of what made him so famous and adored in island circles. “Hey, bud.” I reached down to scoop him up and give him a kiss. I grinned at the woman over his head. “This is JJ.”
Her eyes widened. “The cat from the paper. The mascot. That’s really him?”
Smiling, I nodded. “It’s him. He’s—”
“My cat,” the woman said, staring at him.
I could feel the smile fade right off my face. “Excuse me?”
She looked at me, tears suddenly springing into her eyes. “My cat. That’s my cat. My goodness, I never thought I’d see him again!”