Amalia’s nose told her she was at the animal shelter even if she hadn’t seen the sign. She didn’t really mind mild animal odors, but this was too much. She entered and crossed to a shabby desk, bringing Ima’s cat carrier. “The daughter of Ima Goldson, recently deceased, brought you her mother Ima’s cat. I would like to adopt him.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes, I do, that’s why I came.”
The receptionist stood up. “Come, please,” and led the way through two sets of doors to the cage area. She waved her arm at a battery of small cages. “We have some beautiful cats here in need of adoption. Many of them are kittens. Sweet, lively kittens. What color would you be interested in?”
“Gray. I want a very old, fixed, gray Maine coon cat with a black smudge on his nose. A ragged left ear would be perfect.”
The woman studied her. “That cat bites, and it is very old. It is mean, really not a good fit for anyone who likes cats.”
Amalia kept her annoyance hidden. Probably. “That’s quite all right. I don’t like cats.”
“You’ll have to pay for shots and registration.”
“The cat is up to date with all his vaccinations. Here. Ima’s daughter gave me his medical history booklet signed by his vet.”
The woman was not about to give up so easily and argued for another ten minutes, but finally, Amalia walked out into sunshine, away from that horrible stench, with Jehoshaphat in the cat carrier.
The old gray puss did not like riding back to the apartments in Amalia’s bike basket. He hissed and meowed and, before long, howled. This is ridiculous! Stupid. Why in the world am I doing this? All the way home Amalia berated herself. So did Jehoshaphat.
She locked up her bike and carried the cat box to her door, set it down, and let herself in. “Welcome to your new home, Jehoshaphat. I have a dish of cat food waiting for you, and clean water, of course, and a nice cat bed scented with catnip or something. The salesgirl said it’s an aroma cats love. I’m going to set the pet carrier beside your food dish and let you get used to the kitchen. Then I’ll let you out. You’ll notice also that you have a fancy litter box that is guaranteed not to stink.”
Jehoshaphat was not impressed. He continued to wail.
The phone chimed. Amalia answered.
“It’s Loren here. I have your books. May I drop them by at five?”
“Excellent. But, Loren, you know I could come to the library and get them.”
“I know, but it’s on my way. I’m happy to.”
“Thank you.”
“Amalia, do you have the TV turned up too loud? What am I hearing?”
“Not the TV. My cat. I’ll be waiting out front at five.”
* * *
“Hey, you want to celebrate with me tonight?” Roxie asked her daughter.
“Sure, why?” Loren replied, her voice coming through brightly over the phone.
“Offer has been accepted and they are on the fast track for closure since both parties want that to happen, and they already have approval for the loan, which isn’t surprising, since they are putting fifty percent down.”
“Good for you, Mom! How about going by the furniture store afterward and looking at that rug for your office again? Be just the thing to tie it all together.”
“Loren, you are a girl after my own heart. Grand way to celebrate.” Roxie grinned to herself. “What time are you done there?”
“Should be home by five. Hey, we’ve heard the buzzing about last night even here at the library. I think I’m going to put up a display of craft books and we’ll post a sign about the new group meeting. Keep in mind that we could host the group here if you outgrow the Yarn Shop.” Loren always sounded so upbeat.
“I’ll mention it to MJ. See you when you get here. Or if you’re too hungry, I could come by there and we can throw your bike in the back and head out sooner.”
“Thanks, but I’ll ride. I have some books to deliver to Amalia for one of her shut-ins.”
Strange. Amalia had seemed just fine. “She okay?”
“Yes, I just said I’d do this for her.”
“Later, then.” Roxie clicked her phone off and laid it back on her desk. Leave it to Loren. No sense planning supper for early. If only she would meet a good man in her heart errands. Her incredible shyness made meeting new people so difficult for her. But she seemed to be thriving at the library, being in charge of the displays.
Between the phone calls, the never-ending paperwork, and Sir Charles pleading for her to come throw the ball, the afternoon disappeared.
On my way, Loren texted at five.
“Oh, good grief, already,” Roxie muttered as she headed into the kitchen to refill her glass of water infused with cucumber slices and mint leaves from the refrigerator. Ever since she’d purchased the pitchers with an infusion tube, she’d drunk more water. Maybe she’d mention that in her weekly newspaper column. Back at her desk, she jotted down the idea on the list she kept right beside the desk calendar. The deadline was tomorrow. The afternoon had flown by, just like the week. Her weekly hints column kept her name and picture in front of the reading public better than any paid advertisement. They didn’t pay much but she didn’t pay at all, so she figured it well worth the time and effort.
The phone again. She glanced at the unfamiliar number. If this was another telemarketing call.…She’d had two already today from the same number. She picked up the whistle she kept handy and answered, whistle at the ready.
“Can I speak with the lady of the house, please?” A man’s voice.
Roxie blew the whistle sharp into the phone and clicked it off. “There, that should do it.” So far, it seemed so, since no one called back.
While the ideas were fresh, she started her column with, “We have a new organization in town. The first meeting was last night at Annie’s Fountain City Cafe, where SRO took on a new meaning. From standing room only, the meeting took over half the dining area also. UFO has taken on a new meaning too, from unidentified flying objects to unfinished objects, or rather, projects. Obviously there are many of us with this tendency to not finish all the things we start. We’re meeting again on Monday night, the first of May, and plan on meeting bimonthly at Maureen’s Yarn Shop. Everyone who needs help to cure this syndrome, come on by.
“My other hints for this week are also extremely practical.” She went on to write about drinking more water due to infused water always at the ready and finished up with: “For those of us who are mosquito magnets, I read of an antidote. Drink a glass of water mixed with one teaspoon of apple cider vinegar. Bragg’s is the best. I know I’ve mentioned other uses for the all-purpose vinegar but I tried this one, and voilà, I came home bite free. A first.
“And with that I am off to celebrate many things: good business, great friends, living in the best town anywhere, new ideas, and the best dog in the world. Sir Charles and I thank you for reading our column.”
She reread it, made a couple of changes, and hit Send. One more thing crossed off the to-do list. When Sir Charles scrambled to his feet and tore out of the room, she knew she’d spent more time than she’d planned on. His happy yips announced to anyone within hearing distance that his Loren had come home. Now his pack was all together, as they should always be.
“Mom, where are you? Go get Mom, Sir Charles.”
“Just leaving my office, sorry.”
“But you told me to hurry.”
“I know but I got my column finished and I will be ready in ten minutes. Feed him and Juno, will you please?”
“Where’s Juno?” Loren appeared in the doorway to her bathroom, where Roxie was freshening her makeup.
Roxie shook her head. “I have no idea. Did you call her?”
“She always meets me at the door, like Sir Charles. How long since you’ve seen her?” Juno, their faithful fluffy orange-and-white cat, never missed a meal, and you could tell by the look of her.
Oh, now what? Lord, where is our cat?
“Could she have gotten out?”
“If she did, she’d have been yowling at the door.” Roxie dropped her mascara back in the zippered bag. She paused to suck in a calming, hopeful breath. She closed her eyes to help trigger the memory. The cat had greeted her and Sir Charles at the door after their walk that morning. She’d been rushing around to get ready to leave for her appointment. Did the cat get out while she was carrying the box she needed to deliver to the office? Possibly.
“Mom, we have to find her.”
“I know. Let me think.”
“What if she got hit on the street? She has no street smarts.” Loren was always quick to worry.
“Okay, did you check the garage?”
“She would have answered me by now.”
“Humor me.”
Sir Charles perked up his ears and headed back down the stairs.
“You think?”
“He could hear something we can’t. Follow him.” Together they pelted down the stairs. “Sir Charles!”
His yip announced he was in the kitchen. They found him wagging his tail on the front of the door to the garage. When they didn’t hurry enough, he scratched at the door and whimpered.
“Good dog.” Loren opened the door and Sir Charles barreled through it, heading for a stack of both full and empty boxes.
No cat to be seen.
Sir Charles nosed boxes that had obviously fallen from the pile.
A disgusted feline expletive came from somewhere in the stash. Both Loren and Roxie pulled boxes out, all the while calling Juno. They found her caught in a box that was crammed between several others. The two looked at each other and snorted, shaking their heads in disgust. As soon as they’d dislodged the offending box and pulled open the flaps, Juno hissed at them as she scrambled free.
“Hey, it’s not my fault, dodo bird, you got yourself stuck, you know.” Loren started restacking the boxes. “Why do we keep all this junk here?”
“Because I’ve not had time to sort it and obviously you haven’t either.”
“I thought cats were supposed to be smarter than this.” They both looked to where Juno grumbled at the door to the house. “I know, you need a drink and food.” Loren turned the handle and pushed open the door. Tail rigid and straight in the air, Juno stomped into the laundry room, where her dishes awaited.
“This was all I needed.” Roxie headed for the sink to wash her hands. “All that dust in there.” She caught a sneeze against her inner elbow. “I say on your next day off, we take care of that disaster waiting to happen.”
“I thought we were going to work in the yard.”
“After this, even if we have to get up early. All we need is a fire or something.”
“I am off day after tomorrow.”
“No idea what is on my calendar but nothing happens before nine anyway.”
* * *
“So what went on at the library today?” Roxie asked after they’d placed their order at the restaurant.
“I spent most of the day on the bulletin boards and tomorrow the display cases. I’m setting up displays of homemade items next month so I requested samples with a brief history. I’m hoping for some unusual crafts. The woman who grows and paints gourds is a good example. That peapod boat intrigued me but it’s a bit hard to display. We’ve done some good collections too.”
The waitress set their salads in front of them. “Pepper?” She raised the pepper grinder. After cranking it a couple of times over each salad, she smiled. “Your dinner will be up shortly.”
“Their salads are always so fresh.” Roxie bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord, for crisp vegetables, a good dinner, and time together with my daughter.” She squeezed Loren’s fingers. “Amen.”
Roxie savored every bite of her rib-eye-with-the-bone-in steak. “How come I can never make steaks come out like this?”
“Too impatient?”
“Guess I use up all my patience on people.”
Loren cut herself a piece of her steak. “But you love to see people happy with their new homes and do everything you can to make sure that happens.”
Roxie nodded. Now if only I could help make the most important person in my life right now happy. But she had learned that nothing set Loren off faster than her mother meddling.
She spread her napkin over the remains on her plate so she wouldn’t keep picking at it and drank her iced tea instead, both elbows propped on the table. “That was delicious. You want dessert?”
“Not really.”
“Good.” She signaled for the check. “Rug shopping, here we come.”
“If they still have that one, we can be in and out pretty quick.”
Roxie liked the furniture store in the strip mall. They set up beautifully appointed display rooms as well as groups of things, like all the lamps.
“Good evening, ladies, how can I help you?” The young man who greeted them paused, studying. “Loren?”
“Yes.” She stared at him. “I know you, don’t I?”
“You graduated from North High?”
“Yes.” Loren sneaked peeks at him, still not smiling.
Smile at him, for pity’s sake, it wouldn’t cost you anything. Roxie willed her daughter to respond.
“So did I. I think we were in the same American history class.” His smile widened. “You always sat in the front row, I hid in the back.” He held out his hand. “Nathan Owens.”
Loren hesitated, then shook his hand. “Loren Gilburn.”
“You’re not married.” He released her hand with what Roxie thought of as some reluctance.
“No. Ah, we came to find a rug for my mother’s office.”
Oh, Loren, wake up. You can at least smile.
“Sorry. Of course, come this way.” He dropped his salesperson mask back in place and motioned toward the rugs hanging on frames on the back wall. “Did you have something particular in mind?”
Good man. Roxie silently cheered him on. And kept her mouth shut—a bit difficult to do, but he’d looked at her daughter with interest. A bevy of questions bombarded her mind. He was not wearing a wedding ring but that didn’t mean a lot in this day and age. Millennials were a whole different breed of cat than earlier generations. Please, Lord, let the rug be gone, anything to keep us here. What else could we be looking for?
Loren turned from looking over the rugs. “I don’t see the one we wanted, Mom.”
“Perhaps if you describe what you were looking at, I could help you?”
Loren glanced at her mother, who sent it back. Ah, the telepathy of mother-daughter glances. Loren rolled her eyes and turned back to Nathan.
“What were the colors and the size?” he asked.
“Square rug, geometric pattern, shades of burgundy, dark blues, and gray.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry, that sold the other day. I could order another one. It will take about three weeks. What size did you need?”
Loren looked at Roxie. “What, eight by eight?”
Roxie nodded. “Do you have anything else that is similar?”
“I think so, let me bring a couple of things from the back.” When they both nodded, he left through the door between the rug racks.
“What, you don’t want to wait for an order to come? We could just order it and leave.”
“I know but perhaps there is something I’d like better.”
“And you’ve been looking for a rug for how long?”
Roxie shrugged. “He seems really nice.”
“He sure isn’t the same round geek I remember.”
“People have a way of changing, growing up, you know?”
“I guess.” They turned as Nathan rolled in a dolly with several rugs on it. He lifted one off the pile and spread it on the stack by them.
“This has similar colors.”
“The blocks are bigger.” Roxie studied the rug. “Now I wish I had the other to compare with.”
“This one has tan rather than gray and the burgundy is more rust.” Loren flipped through the pictures on her cell phone to the one she’d taken. “See?”
Roxie nodded.
They both shook their heads at the next one he flipped out. “Too busy.”
“So what have you done since high school?” Nathan asked.
“Associate’s degree in library science and now working at the library.”
“Will you go on for more?”
“I don’t know.” She turned to her mother. “What do you think? Look at more or order?”
Oh, Loren. Ask him a question. At times Roxie felt like shaking her daughter—and now was one. “I think order. That other one is too perfect.”
“So, what have you been doing since high school?” she asked Nathan since her daughter didn’t.
“Got my degree in business so I could be a better help for my dad.” He led the way to the counter.
“Your dad owns this store?”
“Actually, we have a chain of four stores around the area. I manage this one, my brother manages the one in Green Bay, Dad the one in Madison, and my sister the one in De Pere.”
“That’s great, a family-owned business that has grown well.”
“My grandfather started it back in the forties. He and a friend of his made furniture and needed an outlet. No one’s made the furniture since then, but we make sure we have good quality at a decent price.” He pulled out an order form. “Name?”
Roxie handed him her business card. “This is easier.” While he filled out the form, she nodded at Loren. “See that lamp over there?”
“Unusual.”
“I know. How do you think that would fit in the living room?”
Loren shrugged. “I like the one we have.”
Nathan laid the form on the counter and showed Roxie the information. “How would you like to pay for this?”
“Credit card.” She drew out her wallet and extracted the one she used for much of their living expenses, then paid off before it came due. She had another one she used for her real estate business. She had been the money manager in the family from the get-go although Greg, her husband, had been equally money conscious. Money had never been an issue between the two of them. Surely there had been areas of conflict between them, but these years later, he had been burnished with hero qualities. She’d never cared to find someone to take his place. He was too hard to measure up to.
Except for her children. Good thing her brother had taken on the role of strong male in their lives. The two older ones were off and growing their own lives, but little Loren, the baby, had yet to find her niche in life. Or to really want to, or so it seemed to Roxie. She brought herself back to standing in front of the counter at the furniture store.
“I’ll call you as soon as they notify us it’s shipped.” Nathan was nodding and smiling. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Roxie bit her tongue to keep the words from tumbling out. You could fall in love with my daughter and help her build a happy life. She cleared her throat. “Not that I can think of. Oh, by the way, do your stores ever work with Realtors in staging homes for sale?”
“I know I don’t, but I can ask the others.”
“Is there a reason you don’t?”
“Would you believe I’ve never been asked?”
Roxie smiled. Aha! “Might you be amenable to such an idea?”
He nodded as he looked at her. “We could talk about it.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Thank you.”
“Good to see you again, Loren.” He paused. “Excuse me, I need to get this.” He answered a call. He waved as they turned to leave.
“Mother, what were you doing? You have never encouraged staging.” Loren put a down twist on the word when they reached the parking lot.
“Who knows, perhaps there will be a property that would be enhanced with that.” Roxie slid behind the wheel. “Thanks for coming with me.” And who knew where this might lead?