Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It had been three days since the impromptu ice-skating date, and George hadn’t been able to get Mabel off of his mind. Which was made all the more clear by the fact that he kept thinking of it as a date, which neither of them had explicitly said that it was.
But it had felt like a date. And he thought that both of them were old enough that there was no point walking on eggshells about things. He should say something to her about it.
Which was as good of an excuse as any to see her again, he thought.
He’d been thinking about that since Sunday as well—finding another reason to see her.
Mabel had been taking Rascal to her shop all week, claiming she missed the kitten, but the truth was, George missed seeing her.
He’d gotten more used to their little routine than he wanted to admit.
He also missed the kitten more than he would ever admit.
If he cleared everything else away, and thought about Mabel, he knew he wanted to spend more time with her.
He enjoyed her company. He enjoyed their banter, which used to be purely teasing but lately had taken on a sort of sweetness that he was beginning to find irresistible.
But he didn’t want their next not-date to be because of some shared kitten custody arrangement or because she’d dragged him to a Christmas market. He wanted to actually plan something.
The problem was, he’d never been a man known for his romantic gestures. He was practical, methodical, and about as far from spontaneous as a person could get.
Still, he knew Mabel appreciated his more thoughtful side when it showed itself. She trusted him with Rascal, and she’d been the one to suggest the outing to the market and then their ice-skating not-date. And he knew what she liked best of all.
It was ridiculous. Completely unlike him. But the more thought he gave it, the more he thought that might be exactly the point.
He glanced at his watch. It was one in the afternoon, which meant Mabel would be heading to lunch in about an hour, probably. Perfect. He’d have time to get what he needed and make it to the toy shop without her being any the wiser, if he moved quickly.
His mind made up, he headed to the general store, wondering if he was making a mistake.
But deep down, he felt sure that he wasn’t, that if there was any way to show Mabel how he was beginning to feel about her, this was it.
It seemed a little childish and juvenile to him, but Mabel lived for this sort of thing…
with him. She never pranked anyone else.
He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen that all along.
This whole time, it had been her way of showing him… something.
He just hoped it was the same thing he’d come to feel for her.
He spent a good part of thirty minutes looking for what he needed. He’d never been much of a prankster—that had always been more Mabel’s territory—but he’d been on the receiving end of enough of her schemes over the years to have picked up a thing or two.
The key, he’d realized, was to think like Mabel. What would make her laugh? What would catch her completely off guard?
He found the pet supply aisle, and stared at an array of cat toys. Feather wands, catnip mice, little balls with bells inside them. It was perfect, really. Mabel would never see it coming, and Rascal would have the time of her life.
George selected an armful of toys—more than any one kitten could possibly need—and made his way to the checkout counter. The clerk, a girl he thought he recognized as a neighbor’s daughter, probably home from college for Christmas vacation, gave him a curious look.
“Getting a new cat?” she asked pleasantly.
“Something like that,” George muttered, not wanting to explain the complicated situation with Rascal or the even more complicated situation with Mabel.
He paid for his purchases and headed back to his truck, feeling oddly nervous. He only had about twenty minutes to pull it all off once he got there. He was fortunate that he had a key to the shop, thanks to Mabel needing help with organizing the Santa and Mrs. Claus event a few years back.
The Toy Chest was quiet when he arrived, empty of customers, Mabel and Vanessa fortunately having both gone out for lunch.
He unlocked the door, punched in the security code, and headed to the back of the shop, where he found Rascal curled up on one of Mabel’s old jackets.
The kitten opened one sleepy eye as he approached, then stretched and padded over to investigate the rustling bag in his hands.
“Sorry, little one,” George murmured, scratching behind her ears. “But you’re about to become an accomplice.”
He began strategically placing the toys around the shop.
A feather wand tucked behind a display of board games.
A catnip mouse hidden under the counter.
Several of the bell-filled balls rolled into corners where Rascal would be sure to find them.
The pièce de résistance was a motorized toy that moved erratically across the floor—he saved that one for last, hiding it behind a rack of stuffed animals near the front of the store.
Rascal watched his every move with growing interest, her tail twitching with anticipation. She’d already discovered one of the catnip mice and was batting it around with obvious delight.
“Just wait until your mom gets back,” George told her, giving her one final pat before heading for the door. “This is going to be the best prank yet.”
Mabel pushed through the door of The Toy Chest, balancing her takeout container from the Snowdrift Diner in one hand while fumbling for her keys with the other.
The familiar warmth of the shop enveloped her, along with the comforting scents of new toys and the faint hint of pine from the Christmas decorations she’d strung throughout the store.
Vanessa was just behind her, carrying her own takeout container full of the pumpkin chili that had been one of the specials for the day.
“Rascal, I hope you didn’t get into trouble while I was—” Her voice died as she saw Rascal in the middle of the floor, batting enthusiastically at something bright and feathery.
Mabel frowned, setting her lunch on the counter and crouching down to get a better look.
The kitten was completely distracted, pouncing and swatting at what appeared to be a brand-new feather wand toy.
The purple and green feathers were pristine, not at all like the well-worn toys Mabel kept in a basket behind the counter.
“Where did you find that, little one?” Mabel asked, reaching out to examine the toy. Rascal let out a protesting mraow as Mabel tried to take it, batting with one paw.
The bell above the door chimed, and Mabel looked up to see Elaine Adams entering with her grandson in tow.
The elderly woman was a regular customer, always looking for educational toys that would keep her eight-year-old grandson engaged during his frequent visits.
She babysat for Tommy more often than not.
“Well hello there, Elaine,” Mabel said, standing and brushing off her knees. She left Rascal to continue playing with her mysterious new toy—wherever it had come from, the kitten was clearly enjoying herself. “How can I help you today?”
“Well, I’m looking for something that might help with Tommy’s reading,” Elaine explained, gesturing to Tommy, who was already gravitating toward the section of building blocks. “His teacher says he’s doing well, but I thought maybe some word games or—”
A sudden blur of orange fur shot across the floor between them, followed by the distinct sound of something small and metallic rolling rapidly across the hardwood.
Rascal was in full predator mode, her pupils dilated and her tail puffed out as she chased what appeared to be a small ball with a bell inside it.
Mabel stopped mid-sentence as she’d started to explain the newest educational toys they’d gotten in, staring after the kitten in confusion. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I have no idea where that came from. As I was saying, we have several excellent—”
A new, more insistent rattling joined the first, and Mabel’s head whipped around.
Another ball, this one bright red, came rolling out from behind a display of board games. Rascal abandoned her first target and pounced on the new arrival with the single-minded focus that only a kitten could possess.
“Goodness,” Elaine said with a chuckle. “She’s certainly energetic today, isn’t she?”
Mabel felt heat creeping up her neck. “I’m so sorry.
This is strange even for her. Let me just—” She started toward Rascal, intending to corral the kitten and figure out where the mysterious toys were coming from, but before she could take two steps, a small gray mouse came skittering out from under the counter.
Not a real mouse, thankfully, but a toy one that had clearly been liberally dosed with catnip. Rascal’s reaction was immediate and dramatic. She let out a tiny war cry and launched herself at the mouse, sending it sliding under a rack of stuffed animals.
“Oh my,” Elaine said, and Mabel could hear the barely contained laughter in her voice. “It looks like someone’s been shopping for your little friend.”
Tommy, meanwhile, was finding the whole spectacle absolutely delightful. “Look, Grandma! The kitty’s going crazy!”
Mabel tried to maintain her composure, but inside she was growing more bewildered by the moment.
Where were all these toys coming from? She kept a small selection of cat toys at the store for Rascal, to keep her from shredding anything important, but nothing like this.
These were all brand new, and there were so many of them.
“Perhaps I should come back later,” Elaine suggested kindly. “When things are a bit more… settled.”
“Oh no, please don’t leave on account of this,” Mabel said, mortified. “I have no idea what’s gotten into her today. Usually she just naps in the back room.”