A light layer of snow had fallen during the night. Cara peered out onto the porch. A track of cat paws was the only thing interrupting the veil of white.
She looked up to the hill across the street. The snowfall had covered the worst of the devastation. The house had collapsed into itself, crushed under its own weight, filling up the basement. Now there was just a mound of charred rubble, obscured by snow.
It was the first week of December, and things had been blissfully calm ever since Halloween. No more vampires, no more ghosts, no more dire predictions from cats about impending doom. Cara had been living at the Salem house ever since Halloween, with the exception of a week to visit her mom.
Things were all going shockingly well. She had two more jobs lined up, beginning after the holidays. Until then, she could focus on the house she was in.
Cara moved to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. She had a full day ahead of her.
Pumpkin leapt up onto the kitchen island. The orange cat had grown a lot over the weeks, well-fed and spoiled rotten. Cara kissed the top of his head. “Morning, sweetheart. You’re so cute.”
“Thanks.” Mal’s voice caught her by surprise, and she turned around just in time to get soundly kissed on the mouth.
“Not you, trilobite,” she said with a laugh.
“What’s happening today? You finished the floor.” Mal gestured to the sunlight slanting across the wooden floorboards. The morning glow turned the hues of the woodgrain to amber and honey, warm and homey. Cara had made everyone help her move the furniture last week so she could “tidy up a bit,” which meant replacing a dozen broken boards and then sanding and refinishing the whole surface of the first floor.
The smell of orange was in the air, thanks to the oil she used to seal the wood before she waxed it to the soft sheen it had now. She stayed up until one in the morning for five nights in a row, utterly uninterested in lazing around until her latest project was done.
“Pretty nice, huh?” she said, giving the floor a professional once-over.
“Very nice.” Mal wasn’t looking at the floor as he spoke.
It took Cara a moment to register it—he leered just a bit so she got the hint—and then she laughed. “You doofus. What’s for breakfast?”
“I was thinking of making pancakes.”
“Mmm, perfect. And then I can get to work on the side of the house. We need to get that done before the real cold sets in.”
The fire had completely consumed Egan House, but it hadn’t leapt to the supply of new lumber that the workers stored in the shed. After the conflagration, Cara liberated the supplies and even hired Jalen and Reyes to help cart the lumber across the street to the Salem house. No sense in wasting materials, and it seemed unlikely Morningside would ever cut her final check.
An hour later, Cara was up on the scaffolding, hammering at the edging of the window. She was delighted to be working again, to be improving a home with her own hands and her own tools. She especially loved solving a problem.
“Oh, that’s what happened. Some idiot put up the waterproofing layer wrong!” she yelled down to Mal, who was assisting. “That’s why you kept getting mold in this room, and why all the wood’s rotted.”
“How can we fix it?” he asked, tipping his head up. Pumpkin mewed in agreement, also looking up. The kitten generally wanted to be in sight of Cara, whether she was in the house or out of it.
“Easy peasy. I’m just going to ditch the old siding, and then we rip off the bad paper and put up a new layer the correct way.” She paused. “Might need to reframe under the window. Depends on whether the supports got too much moisture. In fact, I’ll reframe anyway, because the new wood is treated to be termite resistant.”
“What about that is easy? Or peasy?”
Cara smiled down at him. “Cheer up, Mal. We can get this done in a week!”
Catching movement in the corner of her eye, she looked up at the hill. For as long as she stayed here, a part of her would always be drawn to where Egan House once stood.
Against the white snow-covered hill, a black shape was descending.
“Is that Mr. B?” she asked, pointing.
Mal shielded his eyes with his hand. “Looks like. But he’s not alone.”
Indeed, the massive black cat was going slowly, accompanied by a small creature with a bright gold coat, like if a palomino decided to turn into a feline.
Cara scrambled down the ladder, curiosity overtaking her.
“Who’s our new friend?” Cara asked when they reached the house.
Pumpkin mewed excitedly, giving the new kitten a sniff and then head-bopping it. The newcomer responded enthusiastically, and Mr. B looked on like a proud parent. Pumpkin looked from Cara to the new kitten and back again, virtually demanding that she introduce herself.
She bent down to get a closer look at the little kitten. She was surprised to see that it wore a collar. No, not a collar. Just a silk cord, from which a little enameled decoration was hanging. She lifted it and saw the outline of a saint, with Gertrude written underneath.
Cara’s jaw dropped.
The kitten mewed and bumped into her hand.
“It’s Marigold,” Mal said stunned. “But Behemoth says we should call her Goldie.”
She picked up the little cat. It looked like a cat, felt like a cat, and purred like a cat. “Well,” Cara said, “it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered lately.”
“Oh, stick around.” Mal smiled. “Things will get so much weirder.”
“You promise?”
He gave her a kiss. “Cross my heart.”
* * * *