Chapter 11 November - Candace & Willoughby #2
And really, what was one little puke? Couldn’t she tell that no amount of cuddles would be able to make up for all of the horrors of staying with Candace?
“Mother, maybe go easy on holding him so close. I’m not entirely certain these industrial amounts of Shalimar are good for him. I have no idea how you walk around inhaling all that perfume.”
Candace held Willoughby closer to her chest with one arm and waved the other at her daughter.
“If none of my twelve husbands suffered any ill effects, neither will my baby. Or were there thirteen?” She gave Willoughby a puzzled look as if he knew the answer to her marital history and gave a kiss on his nose.
He had ended up cleaning that lipstick off himself for days. Sticky. He let out a disgusted meow.
And so, he had been suffering ever since. The lipstick, the perfume, the Boston weather, the damn fairy lights.
Despite the cushy couches and the multitude of treats, he missed his human. Okay, maybe he missed Sam, too. Just a little. She gave good chin scratches. And he still wasn’t sure about Candace.
She was loud and brash and rude. That last part he appreciated. Rudeness was underrated in his opinion. Cat Jesus knew he tried to be rude as often as possible. He was a cat. It came with the job description. So maybe he and Candace had some things in common?
Willoughby let out a sigh and made a tighter loaf.
He must have dozed off, because he woke up to long, bony fingers giving him belly rubs.
His claws were out in a second, except an authoritative “tsk” stopped him dead in his brutal intentions.
So like Magdalene’s, he was confused for a second.
And the deceptive scent still threw him.
“Ah-ah-ah! Those better not be murder mitts you’re readying for me, Mister.
As long as you’re under my roof, you shall endure my love.
” The painted-pink mouth smiled, and Willoughby decided that maybe he could endure this ‘love’ for a bit.
As long as Candace didn’t bring in the damn antlers.
Or the light bulbs. Why were all these women so obsessed with light bulbs?
“You’ve been mopey, young man. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not playing with any of your new toys.”
If Willoughby could roll his eyes, he would.
The woman bought him enough toys to last him and the kittens he’d never sire, due to being snipped, all their nine lives.
Say what you want about his captor—and he’d never call her his babysitter, he had some dignity left, and she wasn’t his grandmother, nope, never, he refused—moderation was not something he’d ever associate with her.
He must have put on half a pound in his week here. The treats were just flowing.
Still, the toys had very quickly lost their luster. He had been moping.
“I miss them, too.” Candace scooped him up and set him on her lap, and for once, he did not consider taking a swipe at her. Something in her tone made him pay attention. And he had to admit that the scent—both so familiar and beloved, and yet so diluted and foreign—was somewhat of a comfort.
“I do.” Candace echoed his earlier sigh, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, her fingers methodically combing through his fur, and to his utter dismay, he found himself desperately trying to stifle a purr.
Thankfully, Candace kept on speaking, and he was grateful that she probably didn’t notice the quiet engine noises. She wasn’t all that observant.
“Well, I mostly miss Sam. Let me tell you, Mister, Magdalene, without actually looking, managed to find the best possible spouse she could have.” She gave him a particularly satisfying rub, and he decided that a little indignity could be swallowed for more caresses.
They were so hard to come by these days.
He purred louder. Candace proceeded with her monologue.
“Of all the people, you buddy boy surely have noticed how she just makes Magdalene glow? I don’t need any particulars, but some days she could power that entire ghastly island.
And now Washington.” She gave him a questioning look, and he felt his input was necessary.
A head bump, and Candace was satisfied enough to continue with her ministrations.
“Glowing! That asshat man never made her glow. Why she didn’t divorce him after a few months, I will never understand as long as I live, Mister, and I plan to live as long as it takes me to see Magdalene fully realize her potential.
The President of the United States of America sounds about right, don’t you think?
I mean, Madam Secretary sounds good too, but President?
It has a different ring to it.” A purse of the lips and thoughtful narrowing of the eyes, and Candace continued.
“Did you know that, when she was a baby, everyone said neither of us would amount to anything? A single mother with a child out of wedlock? Ha!” She almost jumped up, and he gave her a most aggrieved meow.
Still, he kept his claws in, despite the shaky lap, and Candace smiled before giving his nose a smooch—he didn’t entirely disapprove of those anymore, sticky lipstick or not.
“The first thing I did when I married my starter husband was to open a trust fund for her. Nobody was going to call my baby any kind of ugly names. And money makes sure of that, my boy. Always. Soon, we had so much money that I could buy her anything. And I did.”
Willoughby looked up at Candace, her hands stopped the caresses, and her expression was distant. Another head bump was in order, but she didn’t respond, and he settled down waiting expectantly.
“That watch alone was worth a fortune, and I still mourn its loss, but damn, all things considered, it had been a great investment. It saved her hand, didn’t it? And now she might run for President and sign important documents with that hand.”
Candace sniffed.
“She was the most beautiful baby, I don’t mind telling you this.
” Another sigh, and this time Willoughby felt a bit uncomfortable.
Was he supposed to react? Something told him a mushy moment was about to happen, and he really wanted to tell this aggravating woman to collect herself and not embarrass either of them.
He defeated would-be murderers and saved humans from fires–he didn’t do the mushy.
“And I never knew what to do with her, Willoughby.” He opened his eyes to see hers well up, and for the second time in a week, he felt fear. What should he do?
Please, Cat Jesus, don’t let her cry.
“Aww, look at you. Just like a man! Waterworks always scare the lot of you. Now, let me take a trip down memory lane here, buster. It’s not all that long of a walk. I’m just fifty years old.” Willoughby gave her his best unblinking stare, and she winked at him.
“I see why she loves you, stinker. Perceptive. Fine, fine, fifty-five. But that is my last offer. And that is what my latest husband believed. So it should be good enough for you, too. Though you are proving to be smarter than that overgrown fool. Maybe even smarter than the last three of them put together.” She laughed, and he settled down again.
“Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Walking down the memory lane of being a wonderful, if oblivious, mother. A gorgeous one, too. Where do you think she got that face? And those brains? So I wasn’t there a lot.
But surely the amazing genes made up for it?
And now that face and those brains got her Sam, and that glow I’d be able to see from space if I ever get on one of those flying penises they send up there now instead of curing cancer and saving the world from hunger. ”
Her rhythmic caresses were hypnotizing. Plus, he figured that none of the things she was saying were particularly important. She tended to ramble.
“If only the rich paid their share, Mister.” Candace stopped abruptly. “Oh, this reminds me. I need to call my accountant in the Caymans.”
They sat quietly for a few more minutes, her fingers stroking him and playing with his ears.
“But yes, baby of mine, I miss them too.” Candace gave his nose another peck, and he could sense the sadness in her tone.
“We have spoken more since they got married than in all the previous years. I know I have Sam to thank for that. Still, I’ll take it.
Maybe I will also invite those girls to Europe with me?
Magdalene went alone plenty of times when she was young.
It would be only fair to bring both of them and treat them to Paris.
” Candace smiled. “Settled. After my next wedding. No, after my next honeymoon. No, no. Once the divorce is finalized.”
Candace scratched under his chin, and her face took on a faraway look.
“Which brings a different question altogether. Th question of should I even get married again in the first place? Do you know who texted me the other day? I’m told by reliable sources that you might actually be acquainted with this particular lady, since I tend to believe you wandered around the island back in your day.
” She lifted her phone to his face as if he could read and scrolled through an entire conversation.
No, he couldn’t read. He was a cat, thank you very much. But even he could see this was a very long thread. Lots of silly yellow smiley faces. Some had heart eyes. Was this how humans communicated? No wonder they were so unevolved.
“I had dinner at that Michelin star restaurant in town, dear boy. And the woman who owns the place is… fascinating. Yes, that’s the word I’d choose to describe her. And what is par for the course, of course, is that she found me just as fascinating.”
He wanted to roll his eyes. He didn’t. Mostly, as he mentioned above, because cats were anatomically incapable, which was a pity. But also she was still scratching his chin so he could abstain from sarcasm.
“So we have been texting a little. And I saw her one time… Or two. Just here and there, you know. It means nothing, of course. I don’t know why I made that silly fairy light with her name. I haven’t fashioned any lights for any of my husbands, that’s for certain.”
Candace’s smile was a bit tremulous at the edges as she put the phone down and looked at the string of bulbs hanging over the window.
He couldn’t quite figure out what was happening.
Sure, he knew the Tavern owner. Loud and brash and very strange.
And kind. Many a table scrap had been had from her hands back in his day on the island.
So why had texting and seeing her made Candace this…
cautious? Humans were very weird, Willoughby decided.
Also, maybe it was good he knew nothing of whatever it was that made them moody and pouty and mushy.
“I think it’s a nice tradition the girls have started, a light bulb for a memory. You and I have one, too, you know, for this week spent together, even if you hated the ink, baby boy.”
Candace pointed at the large yellow bulb with his paw print on it. From this angle, Willoughby thought that maybe it hadn’t been so bad as it glowed prettily.
“Those two are for their engagement and wedding, my boy. The largest ones. How I loved those occasions. How scared I am that someone will take it all away from them.”
Willoughby wondered how and, more importantly, why something so wonderful as love could be taken away, and it made him angry just to think that.
No, he didn’t understand much, but the thought of his humans not being allowed to be together made him sick to his stomach.
Only knowing how much Candace hated him puking saved her couch.
Candace’s phone buzzed, and she reached for it carefully. He appreciated the effort to not disturb him.
“Oh, shoot, this snow is delaying Magdalene’s plane! Who the hell wanted this snow for Thanksgiving?” She stood and gently deposited him back on the black velvet sofa, now almost entirely covered in ginger fur.
Candace stabbed at the offending gadget, then proceeded to take some poor sod to task for not keeping Logan Airport open in all weather conditions. He would be sorry, too.
Willoughby felt a pang of pity for the man, but Candace’s voice was filled with something beyond anger and impatience. He recognized the tone of sadness.
Dammit.
Since when did he care whether this grabby, obnoxious woman was sad? And since when did her sadness make him want to do something about it?
He jumped off the sofa, fully disgusted with himself. This was what happened when a magnificent creature such as himself allowed one human to get close. Suddenly, all these other humans needed to be rescued, saved, required mysteries to be solved, and sadness to be alleviated.
Behind him, Candace was upbraiding some other poor schmuck. All he could decipher was that the man should stop reporting snow on TV and couldn’t he report sunshine so that the fools at Logan could open the damn airport?
He found his quarry quickly enough. After all, he was the one who had hidden the accursed things under the cupboard to begin with. They were slightly worse for wear after he went a few rounds in the ring with them, but they’d have to do.
His prize in mouth, Willoughby trotted back to where Candace was now sitting by the window, the fairy lights bathing her in a soft glow. The snow outside was falling harder, and she watched it with a dejected look on her face, phone and incompetent schmucks forgotten.
“They will probably not be able to get here for a day or two. They’ll miss Thanksgiving.
So it’s just the two of us, grand-baby.” She said it without looking at him, and hearing the appellation, he knew he had made the right decision.
In any case, he had surrendered his majestic pride years ago when he’d fallen head-over-paws for his human.
And his protective sensibilities would never allow him not to take care of her mother.
Maybe he liked her just a touch, too. She did love his Magdalene. In her very strange way.
He hopped on the windowsill and dropped the blasted antlers in front of Candace. What was one more indignity, after all? At least it wasn’t turkey-related. Antlers, he would live down. It was Thanksgiving, and he was spending it with his grandmother, even if she was too young to be one.