Octo-Cat sat waiting for us in the living room when Nan and I returned home. I’d left the bedroom door open before we headed out just in case he might want a change of scenery, but I hadn’t exactly expected him to take advantage of it.
Luckily, Paisley was already tucked securely into Nan’s arms, so she couldn’t be tempted to make a run for the ornery feline. Couldn’t Octo-Cat see how much she already loved him? How much she wanted to be his friend?
Judging by the tabby’s furrowed brow and tense posture, that was a hard no.
“Well, look what the cat dragged out,” I quipped, part relieved to see him and part worried about what he might demand next.
“Hardy har har,” he said dryly and then, “I see you’re still playing house with that imposter.”
Well, as it turned out, we’d made no progress at all. “You saw right. Now don’t you think it’s time for you to stop your pouting and rejoin the living?”
Had I made a mistake by kowtowing to his demands about the Fancy Feast and the Evian and the exquisite manor house? It had been easy to do regarding mere things, but now another life was involved. I refused to send Paisley back to that overcrowded shelter, especially when its future was so uncertain.
I knew it wouldn’t be so easy, but still my heart ached when Octo-Cat responded with, “Bad things happen when good cats remain silent.”
“But that’s exactly what you’re doing!” I argued. “Giving me the silent treatment. Haven’t you had enough?”
“Haven’t you had enough?” he shot back in a deep, ominous voice. Something told me there was no right answer here.
“Mr. Octopus Cat,” Paisley squeaked, drawing both of our attention to her big black eyes and tiny pink mouth. “I know you don’t like me, but I promise I’ll do anything to make things right. I want to be friends.”
“Aww, how could you say no to this face?” I cooed, scratching Paisley under her tiny, quivering chin.
Her whole body squirmed in response, and Nan had to make quick adjustments to avoid dropping her.
“Easily,” Octo-Cat spat, unmoved by the show of love. “Very easily, indeed.”
“Are they finally playing nice?” Nan asked, a hopeful sparkle in her eyes.
“Um, not exactly,” I answered with a sigh. “But this is progress, nonetheless.”
“Say, dog,” my cat lisped, rising to all four paws. “Will you really do anything to make me happy?”
“Oh, yes!” Paisley cried, her shaking thus renewed. “Yes, I will do anything!”
I waited in silence for the big reveal. Would Octo-Cat’s demand be one we could meet? I’d do almost anything to bring peace to our divided house.
The cat’s large, amber eyes narrowed, and he spoke very, very slowly. “Then run far, far away and don’t ever come back.”
The Chihuahua whimpered, which made our evil feline overlord laugh. “Do I really have to, Mommy?” Paisley asked, a pathetic whine lacing each of her words.
Oh, that cat! He made me so angry sometimes!
“No, of course not. He’s just being mean!” I scowled at my unruly pet, but he didn’t look the least big apologetic.
“Hey, I know what I want.” Octo-Cat flicked his tail in one direction and then the other. “And also what I don’t want. The dog needs to go.”
“Hush up, Octo-Cat. You’ve been outvoted,” Nan said, even though she couldn’t understand any part of the conversation other than mine.
Paisley wriggled and licked Nan’s hands, whether to derive comfort or to agree with what had been said in her defense, I couldn’t be sure.
“Unbelievable,” my cat mumbled as he hopped to the floor and skulked out of view. A few moments later, we heard his electronic cat flap lift open and admit him into the outside world.
“And stay out until you’ve had an attitude adjustment!” I shouted after him.
“Don’t worry about him, you sweet girl.” Nan kissed the Chihuahua’s head and then set her on the floor. “Let’s go make ourselves some lunch. Huh?”
We all moved to the kitchen, where Nan took out three chicken breasts to grill on the stovetop and I began working on the fixings for a Caesar salad. “I’m making one for Paisley, too,” she explained with a grin.
Oh, the little dog would definitely love that.
We’d almost finished our lunch preparations when a loud crash sounded from the foyer. I glanced toward my feet and found that Paisley had left us some time ago.
“Why does everything keep breaking around here?” Nan grumbled as she removed her pan from the burner and marched out to locate the source of the disturbance.
I spotted the mess before she did. One of Ethel Fulton’s antique Tiffany lamps lay in pieces by the entryway. A priceless heirloom. Great.
Paisley stood beside the mess, howling. “I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I don’t know how it happened. I was just minding my own business, and—crash!”
“It’s okay, sweetie. We know you didn’t mean to,” I coaxed as Nan began to sweep up the mess.
“Unbelievable,” Octo-Cat mumbled and then ran up the grand staircase, presumably back to his self-imposed prison in my bedroom tower.
Funny, I hadn’t heard the electronic pet door buzz open even though we were standing directly beside it.
“Can you watch Paisley for me this afternoon?” Nan asked once the three of us had finished our mid-day meal. “I’d bring her with me, but I have a lot of errands to run and don’t want her to get lost underfoot.”
“Sure,” I answered absentmindedly while logging into the bank’s mobile app on my phone. I had to click around a bit to find exactly what I was looking for. When I did, I handed the phone to Nan and asked, “Hey, is this address the same as the one on the check you had cashed?”
Nan studied the tiny screen for a moment, then handed the phone back my way and rummaged around her desk until she found the printout she’d made the night before. “The very same,” she said, holding the paper beside the phone screen so the two of us could compare.
I glanced between them a few more times, feeling more and more confident that we’d made a match with each new look. “The signature’s a little different on this one, but it looks like it belongs to the same person. I think maybe it starts with a D or an O. Hard to say for sure.”
“But that’s not how you spell Trish,” Nan said with a sigh.
“No, it’s not,” I agreed, feeling more confused than ever as I logged out of the app and set my cell phone back on the table.
“I’ll think on it while I’m out,” my grandmother promised.
“Where are you going, by the way?” I’d only half paid attention when she said she was leaving and was curious now that she’d brought it up again.
“To begin work on the charity fundraiser for the shelter, of course. I’ve decided to go with a gala. That will bring all the key players out better than any bake sale or car wash ever could.”
“Good thinking.” Or was it? I hated contradicting her, but had she really thought this whole thing through before deciding to jump into action?
“Nan, a gala takes a lot of prep work, though. What if it’s too late for the shelter by the time you’ve finished the planning?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Stop being such a negative Nancy. You know better than to doubt your nan. Now, you two be good. I’ll be back in time to rustle up some dinner. Ciao.”
And just like that, she was into her shoes and out the door. Man, she moved fast. I often felt like a slouch next to my fit and active grandmother. Maybe one day I’d actually do something about it—but today was not that day.
“What would you like to do this afternoon?” I asked, searching the floor for Paisley. Normally, she clung to the closest human like a bur, but at the moment, I couldn’t spot her anywhere.
“Paisley!” I called. “C’mere, girl.”
“I don’t wanna,” came the muffled reply.
It took a few minutes, but I finally found her hiding under our antique Victorian loveseat. “Why so sad, sweetie pie?” I sat down on the hard, uncomfortable floor and waited for her to show herself.
“The cat doesn’t like me,” she sniffed while remaining firmly in place beneath the old couch.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He doesn’t really like anyone.”
“He doesn’t like me a lot, though. And at the shelter, I couldn’t help you win Detective. And now Nan left and didn’t want to take me with her. What if she never comes back?”
The poor dear! I hated that she felt this way and that there was very little I could do about it.
“Paze, please don’t cry. You did a great job helping with Detective, and—hey—the game’s not over yet. We still have time to win. And I promise Nan will come back just as soon as she finishes her errands. We all love you very much.”
“Even Octopus Cat?” she asked, raising her head slightly.
“Even Octo-Cat,” I assured her with a chuckle. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”