I took a step back from the woman’s reaching hands, clutching JJ protectively closer to my chest. He squeaked his disapproval of my manhandling. “I’m sorry—this isn’t one of the cafe cats. This is my cat.”
The woman frowned, her gaze fixed on JJ, taking in his rusty orange color, the ear that was slightly bent from some ear mites that hadn’t been treated when he’d been a stray living in the graveyard, and his giant paws. “That’s Pumpkin,” she insisted. “I’d know him anywhere. When I saw his picture, I thought it could be him, and I had to come see for myself. He had a little … ah! There you go,” she said triumphantly, peering around my body to point at his nose. “He had that little discolored spot on his nose. It’s been there since he was a kitten. He’s got such a distinctive face anyway. Those cheeks.” She reached for them and I pulled away. “Oh, my, I can’t believe I’ve found him!” She looked like she might cry again.
I felt dizzy, and a little bit like I might vomit. But I stood my ground and—I hoped—kept my expression as cool as the fresh cucumbers Ethan had brought home for his special farmer’s salad earlier. “Ma’am,” I said firmly. “I’m sure your missing cat probably bears a strong resemblance to my JJ, but I can assure you, this is my cat.” I peered at her, trying to place her face. “Are you a Daybreak resident?”
She flushed. “No. But I come here every year. And I had…” she trailed off.
“You had what?” I asked.
The door to the cafe slammed, making me jump. When I looked up, no one was there, but the table where Jason Holt had been camped out was empty. Apparently he’d bolted at the first sign of drama. I wondered about that: Weren’t writers usually interested in any and all drama? You never knew what could make for a good scene in a book.
Jeez, Maddie. You have other things to focus on besides his plotting. I refocused on my current problem, who still stared at my cat like she might snatch him out of my arms and run for the next ferry. “Listen. I’m really sorry you lost your cat. But JJ is off the table. I have another orange cat you might be interested in—”
But before I could point out Sebastian, she cut me off. “I’m sure your other cat is lovely, but this is my cat.” She crossed her arms and fixed a steely stare on me. A challenge.
The cafe door banged open again, and Lucas stuck his head in, a grin spreading over his adorable face when he saw me. “Hey, Mads!” Then he must’ve seen the look on my face, because his smile faded. He stepped in, pulling his wool hat off his tangled dark hair, and closed the door behind him just as Grandpa emerged from the basement, also walking right into the thick of the tension.
The woman and I were both frozen in place, neither of us willing to look away. I was afraid to take my eyes off her; I had convinced myself that if I did for even a second she might grab JJ and run.
Grandpa and Lucas both looked at me questioningly. “What’s going on?” Lucas asked finally. He made it sound like a greeting, but I knew he meant it in the truer sense of the phrase.
I looked helplessly from him to Grandpa, who could sniff out tension like a bloodhound. He took in the situation with one blink. I watched his bushy white eyebrows pull together, a sure sign that he was concerned, then his face rearranged to a blank, yet pleasant, expression. Cop face. I’d grown up with it, and even though he was retired, he hadn’t lost his touch.
Grandpa came over, smiling easily at my nemesis, and slid an arm around my shoulders. “Hello. Leo Mancini. Maddie’s grandfather. And former police chief of Daybreak Harbor,” he added, for effect. “We run the cafe. Is there something we can help with?”
His strategic introduction seemed to throw her. Grandpa was still an imposing fellow, even in the silly cat cafe outfits he insisted on wearing when he was “on duty,” usually shirts with cats doing yoga or the like. His thick head of white hair and bushy white eyebrows gave some people the false impression that he was “just an old guy,” but as soon as he opened his mouth they realized their mistake.
She faltered for a moment, then recovered. “This woman—er, your granddaughter—has my cat,” she said. “I’ve identified him by a mark on his nose. He was lost as a kitten. And she’s arguing with me!”
“Which cat?” Lucas asked, at the same time Grandpa said, “This cat?” and put his other hand protectively on JJ’s head. JJ squeaked at him.
“Yes. That cat.”
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” Grandpa said. “This is my granddaughter’s cat. They adopted each other quite some time ago. I’m sorry you lost your cat, though,” he added, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. “We’ll definitely keep an eye out. We’re closing now, but thanks very much for stopping by.”
“But,” she protested, trying to dig her heels in, “I just paid for an hour!”
I took her fifteen dollars out of my pocket with shaking hands and thrust it at her. She took it, her fingers grazing mine. I flinched at her touch. Her hand was cold and dry and sandpapery.
Grandpa propelled her to the door, which Lucas promptly opened. She barely had time to pick up her coat from where she’d dropped it, but on her way through the door she reached out and caught the doorjamb.
“You can’t just throw me out! I’ll go to the police myself. I’m sure being a former police chief doesn’t hold as much weight,” she added, looking Grandpa up and down.
“Oh, I’m not throwing you out,” Grandpa said smoothly. “You would definitely know the difference. And the police department is right down the street. Across from the ferry. You can tell them I sent you. Thank you for stopping by.” He closed the door firmly behind her, paused a moment, then locked it. “There,” he said, nodding in satisfaction. “I doubt she’ll be back. And even if she is, she’s old and skinny.” He winked at me. “We can take her.”
I smiled halfheartedly, recognizing his attempts to lighten the situation, but the encounter had left me shaken.
Lucas, who had watched the whole exchange in disbelief, came over to me and JJ. “Are you okay?” he asked. “What the heck was that about?”
“I’m okay.” I bent down and let JJ jump out of my arms. When I stood up, I realized my hands shook.
That was not the sort of patron I was expecting in my cafe. And what was she talking about, anyway? She didn’t even live on the island, she’d said so herself. How could JJ be hers? She had to be lying. Or crazy. Or both. “And I have no idea. She said he was hers. But he’s not.” I looked up at him, my eyes filling with tears. “He can’t be.” JJ was my little rock. He’d already seen me through some really hard times, and our bond, though short, was super strong.
“Of course he’s not.” Lucas wrapped me in a hug. I held on, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent. He smelled like outside, and a little bit like a fireplace. It was nice to have someone to lean on, I realized. I’d been missing that for a long time. I mean, I had Ethan, who was my closest friend next to Becky, but it wasn’t the same. I tilted my head and looked up at him, brushing a tear away. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” He hugged me tighter.
Grandpa cleared his throat from behind me. “Madalyn. Do you know who that woman was?”
I let go of Lucas and turned to him. “No. Am I supposed to?”
“I’m curious whether you’ve seen her around,” Grandpa said.
“I don’t think so. Not lately, anyway. But then, I’ve been back all of six months, so I’m sure I haven’t seen all the seasonal people. She said she didn’t live here. Have you seen her around?”
Grandpa didn’t answer that. “Stay cautious. There’s always the possibility she may try to get back in here,” he said instead. “I doubt she’ll push her luck, but you should be vigilant. You never know what people are capable of.” He started toward the kitchen, then stopped and picked up a black Moleskin notebook from the floor, where it had fallen halfway under one of the tables. “Yours?”
As I was still distracted by the crazy woman and Grandpa’s words of caution, it took me a second to focus. I had to really look, because I used Moleskin notebooks all the time—they were my favorites. But this was the notebook Jason Holt had been scribbling in. I shook my head. “No. The guy in here working—a famous author, by the way—left abruptly when she came in. It must be his. The lost and found basket is over there.” I waved at the corner of the cafe near my sign-in book. “He’ll be back tomorrow. He paid for the week.”
“A famous author, eh?” Grandpa looked impressed. “You’re already attracting some clientele.” He tossed the notebook into the basket on top of the pile of miscellany—a lone glove, a phone charger, a barrette, a key on a plain ring. Then he turned back to me. “Don’t worry, Doll,” he said, using his nickname for me from when I was a kid. “JJ is yours. Everyone knows that.”
I tried to let his words make me feel better, but they didn’t. Everyone knew JJ and I belonged together—everyone except for this crazy woman, it seemed, and who knew what she was capable of?