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The next morning, Mrs. Snuggle was in the same mood – grumpy.
“Want to come to the café this morning, or keep Mrs. Snuggle company?” Lauren asked Annie.
“Brrt.” Stay home. She looked at Mrs. Snuggle in concern. The fluffy white cat reclined on the sofa, like a queen from bygone days.
“At least she’s eating her food,” Lauren murmured to Annie. “That has to be a good thing.”
“Brrp.” Yes.
“Come and get me in the café if you need to.” Lauren stroked Annie’s velvety soft fur, wishing she could stay home with both cats. But cupcakes, coffee, and customers beckoned.
Zoe had gone on ahead, intent on readying the café early that day. Lauren wondered if she didn’t want to spend time with Mrs. Snuggle, because she didn’t know how to cheer her up. Her cousin had a good heart, but seemed a little flummoxed about Mrs. Snuggle’s attitude.
“Annie will look after you,” she told Mrs. Snuggle. Turning on the TV to another nature show, she left the two of them sitting on the sofa, the Persian’s gaze glued to the screen, ignoring everything – and everyone – else.
“I hope you’re making lemon meringues today,” Zoe greeted her when Lauren entered the café. The pine chairs were already unstacked and the whole space gleamed.
“A double batch,” she promised, feeling guilty she hadn’t made more of them yesterday. Lauren usually made three varieties of cupcakes per day, but yesterday had fallen short.
“What about salted caramel as well?” Zoe suggested.
“Good call.” Her mouth watered at the thought. “How about a double batch of each?”
“Now you’re talking.” Zoe winked.
Her cousin seemed cheerier in the café than she had at home this morning. Lauren hoped Zoe wasn’t taking Mrs. Snuggle’s grumpiness personally.
Lauren set to work making the cupcakes. Ed was already rolling out pastry dough, grunting a greeting to her.
By the time Zoe unbolted the entrance door at nine-thirty, apricot Danishes and lemon meringue cupcakes filled the glass cases. The salted caramels were nearly ready, and so were Ed’s popular honeyed walnuts.
The next hour ran smoothly, Lauren surprised and pleased that so many customers wanted to try her lemon meringues. At this rate, it would be one of her most popular creations ever.
“Lauren!” Martha barreled into the café, pushing her rolling walker like a racing car driver. “Did you know Annie and Mrs. Snuggle are out for a walk?”
“What?” Lauren stared at their friend.
“I just saw her and Mrs. Snuggle strolling down the street by themselves.”
“Huh?” Zoe’s eyes widened.
“Annie wouldn’t do that.” Although, there was a cat flap in the back door that Annie sometimes used. “We’d better go after them.” She dashed around the counter.
“I’m coming with you.” Zoe was by her side.
“Who’s going to look after things?” Lauren cast a panicked look at the tables, although thoughts of her fur baby were uppermost in her mind – only a few tables were occupied, and everyone had received their order.
“I can do it.” Martha’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to be a barista.” There was a jokey quality to her tone.
“Ed!” Lauren started toward the swinging kitchen doors.
“What’s up?” He dusted his floury hands together.
She quickly explained the situation.
“Go.” He shooed her away. “I’ll take over and explain what happened so they don’t complain my cappuccinos aren’t as good as yours or Zoe’s.”
“Thanks,” she replied gratefully.
“See you, Martha.” Zoe zipped out of the café, Lauren on her heels.
“I hope we can catch up to them,” Lauren fretted, jogging down the street.
“Maybe Annie thought she could cheer up Mrs. Snuggle by taking her for a walk.” Zoe puffed beside her.
“I think we need to go to the gym or something,” Lauren huffed. Her fitness – or lack of it – wasn’t good. But she could think about that later. Her heart raced at the thought of Annie – or Mrs. Snuggle – being in danger. Anything could happen to them – being hit by a car, catnapped by an opportunist, or—
“There they are!” Zoe pointed to the feline duo ahead of them. Mrs. Snuggle was in the lead, Annie directly behind her, as if she were guarding her charge.
“Annie!” Lauren sped up.
“Brrt!” She turned around, looking pleased to see her human.
Mrs. Snuggle ignored them, continuing to plod along the sidewalk, oblivious to the curious stares of passersby.
“I’ll keep an eye on Mrs. Snuggle,” Zoe promised.
“What’s going on?” Lauren bent down and stroked her fur baby, relief flooding through her. Annie was okay.
“Brrt,” Annie replied, flicking a glance toward the trudging figure of Mrs. Snuggle, Zoe walking beside her. “Brrt!”
Lauren gathered her fur baby in her arms, relishing the weight and feel of her. “I’m so glad you’re okay – both of you.” She pressed a kiss on Annie’s head.
Glancing around the street, she realized this was the way to the church – and the parsonage.
“Is Mrs. Snuggle trying to go home? To Father Mike?”
“Brrt!” Yes!
“And you were making sure nothing would happen to her?”
“Brrt!” Yes!
“You are such a sweetheart.” Lauren’s heart filled with love as she cuddled Annie. “Okay, let’s help Mrs. Snuggle.”
“Brrp.” Good.
They followed Zoe and Mrs. Snuggle to the church, waving to their friends and regular customers who smiled and pointed at them.
When they reached the church grounds, Mrs. Snuggle headed straight to the parsonage. She scratched at the front door and wailed.
“I can’t believe she found her way here from the cottage,” Zoe marveled.
“Maybe she’s looking for Father Mike,” Lauren suggested, “and thinks he’s at home.”
Mrs. Snuggle wailed again, stretching up against the door and raking her claws downwards.
“Oh dear.” Zoe stared at the noticeable scratch marks. Her eyes widened. “The door’s ajar.”
“What?” Lauren tentatively pushed the door. It swung inward.
“Did I forget to lock it yesterday?” Zoe bit her lip. “Sorry, Father Mike.”
Mrs. Snuggle galloped inside. “MEOW!” she bellowed, as if expecting an answer.
“Father Mike’s not here,” Lauren explained, still carrying Annie.
“He’s in Florida until the weekend,” Zoe added. “He asked us to look after you. At the cottage, not here.”
Mrs. Snuggle ignored them, running from room to room. Lauren guessed the Persian expected Father Mike to materialize any second.
Lauren heard a noise. What was it?
She nudged Zoe with her elbow.
Annie’s ears flickered.
“Did you hear it too?” she murmured to the silver-gray tabby.
“Brrt,” Annie replied softly. She wriggled, wanting to get down.
“What?” Zoe asked.
Lauren lowered Annie to the ground, then froze.
Clatter.
“I heard that.” Zoe’s eyes rounded, then she relaxed. “It must be Mrs. Snuggle.”
“Really?” Lauren told herself not to panic.
A muffled oath sounded from the depths of the house.
“Okay, that was not Mrs. Snuggle.” Zoe glanced around. “Does Father Mike have a baseball bat handy? I hope it’s not a burglar.”
“MEOW!!”
Lauren thought the whole neighborhood heard that.
“Let’s go!” Zoe charged down the hall.
“No, arggh! Stop!” A male voice cried.
Annie scampered down the hall after Zoe. Lauren followed, her pulse speeding up.
“MEOW!”
“Good kitty,” the male voice sounded desperate. “No, don’t – arrgh!”
Lauren stopped in the doorway of the study.
Gavin, the supply priest they’d met yesterday, stood next to a desk, fear in his eyes as Mrs. Snuggle attacked his ankles.
“Oh, thank goodness.” He looked up in relief. “You’ve arrived just in time. This cat is attacking me!” He tried to back away from the feline but the wooden desk was against his legs.
“That’s Mrs. Snuggle,” Zoe informed him.
“You’re in her home,” Lauren added, relieved they weren’t dealing with a burglar – or worse.
“Brrt!” That’s right! Annie frowned at the priest.
“We know what Mrs. Snuggle is doing here, but what are you doing here?” Lauren continued.
“Yeah!”
“Just – OUCH! – looking after the collection money. Do you mind calling her off?” He looked down at Mrs. Snuggle in desperation.
“Brrt!” Annie called. “Brrt.”
“Meow.” Mrs. Snuggle paused in her mauling to answer. “Meow.” She sounded just as grumpy as before.
“Brrt,” Annie replied.
“Mrrbppp.” It sounded like the cat version of a raspberry. She reluctantly backed away from Gavin.
“Thanks.” He lifted one foot up, and then the other. “I’m bleeding!”
“Father Mike probably has first aid equipment in the bathroom,” Lauren said, watching Mrs. Snuggle slowly join Annie.
“You do have some nasty marks on your ankles,” Zoe observed.
“That cat is a killer,” Gavin told them, wincing as he touched his ankles. “Does Father Mike know what she’s really like?”
“She thought you were an intruder.” Lauren felt compelled to defend the feline. “She hasn’t met you before, has she?”
“No, thank goodness.” He eyed Mrs. Snuggle warily. “I thought you two were looking after her, anyway.”
“We are,” Zoe replied. “She wanted to visit her house.”
“That’s a weird way of looking after a cat.” He shrugged.
“So why are you here?” Lauren probed.
“Yeah, how did you find the key to get in?” Zoe demanded. “You didn’t break in, did you?”
“What?” He looked shocked. “No, of course not. I’m a priest. I wouldn’t do something like that. Father Mike told me before he left that he had a spare key, but he’d asked you to meet me here yesterday, so I guessed it must be hidden outside somewhere. I rooted around and found it.” His voice held a tiny note of triumph.
“So that’s why the front door was unlocked just now. And here I thought that I must have forgotten to lock it yesterday.” Zoe sounded relieved.
“But what are you doing here?” Lauren asked. “You said something about a collection?”
“Yes, the church collection. Father Mike asked me to deposit it into the church bank account.”
“Did he?” Zoe glanced at Lauren.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I was just looking for it, when that attack cat started on me.”
“Mrs. Snuggle must have felt threatened, finding a stranger in her home,” Zoe told him.
“Didn’t Father Mike tell you where the collection was?” Lauren stared at him.
“I’m sure he did.” Gavin tapped his head lightly. “But there was a lot of information to take in. I delivered the food baskets yesterday and only got lost once, plus, I have my own parish as well to look after. I was sure Father Mike said he’d left the money in his study, but I couldn’t remember quite where it was.”
“We’ll help you look,” Lauren suggested.
“Yeah.” Zoe grabbed Lauren’s wrist and peeked at her watch. “And then we have to get back to work. We’ve got a café to run.”
“Brrt!”
After a few minutes of searching, they found a small plastic bag full of money in one of the desk drawers. The coins jingled when Zoe lifted it.
“Is this it?” she asked.
“It looks like it.” Lauren peered through the transparent plastic – lots of bills, mostly low denominations, and some coins.
“It must be.” Gavin took the bag from Zoe.
“Oh, there was a note under it.” Zoe brandished it. “Yeah, Father Mike says this is the church collection money and can you please deposit it for him. He’s got the bank details here for you.”
“Thanks.” Gavin put the note into his trousers’ pocket. “Well, I’d better go straight to the bank with this.”
“Yes,” Lauren agreed.
“We’ll lock up,” Zoe informed him, “if you give us the spare key.”
“Oh. Right.” He dug the metal key out of his pocket and handed it to her. “There you go.”
“Thanks.”
They followed him out through the front door.
“Come on, Mrs. Snuggle.” Lauren beckoned the cat. “Father Mike’s not here.”
“No, but his fill-in was.”