Autumn at the Cat Cafe

Chapter 1

Pecan Corner, Ohio

“There’s nothing better than an autumn day. Don’t you agree, Sir?”

Sir, or Sir Meow as he was officially titled, tilted his head at Via Dalton as if he were listening to every word while they

stood in front of her apartment building entrance. The Highland cat was not only big, but he had “big-dog energy,” a trait

sometimes applied to the breed. Right now her big-dog-energy cat was ready for his morning walk.

Vibrant red, yellow, and orange leaves drifted along the sidewalk and in front of the two businesses that flanked the apartment

entrance—her cat café, Pawsitive Vibes, to the left, and the eccentric Second Chapter bookstore to the right. Surrounded by

autumn color, she inhaled the fresh morning air. Feeling the tug of the leash in her hand, Via chuckled. “All right, all right.

Let’s make our rounds.”

Via and Sir walked around the perimeter of downtown Pecan Corner, aptly named for the pecan tree smack-dab in the middle of the big green square in the center of the business district.

A different street lined each side of the square, featuring a variety of quaint two-story buildings that housed Pecan Corner businesses.

When she moved back to her hometown three years ago to open her Pawsitive Vibes cat café, Via had made it her habit to walk around the square every morning, usually around eight o’clock, an hour before opening time.

Almost all the businesses were beginning to open, except for the Corner Eatery.

They had already opened their doors at six.

“Good morning, Sir.” Buck Crenshaw gave the cat a quick salute. A Gulf War veteran, he owned Handyman’s Hardware Store. He

then nodded at Via as he continued sweeping stray leaves off the front sidewalk. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“Just wonderful.” Via gave him a smile as Sir Meow kept trotting. Head up, chest out, he always enjoyed his morning walk.

When they reached the Pecan Corner Bakery, Sally Evans came outside, a large white apron covering her thin frame. She slipped

her hand into one of the pockets. “Good morning, Via,” she said. “And good morning to you, Sir. Ready for your morning treat?”

Sir was always ready for a treat. Sally bent down to give him the little nibble. He accepted it eagerly as she scratched behind

his ears, making him purr while she glanced up at Via. “Pawsitive Vibes and Second Chapter are looking so festive. You’ve

really outdone yourself this year.”

“Thanks, Sally. I do love fall.”

“I’m glad you included Earl’s shop.” Her expression turned somber as she stood. “It’s still hard to believe he’s gone. He

certainly was eccentric.”

“And he was our eccentric.” Earl Smith had started out being her landlord and her neighbor, at her business and in the apartments upstairs.

He was a quiet, elusive man who kept to himself, almost to the point of being a recluse.

But he was friendly to his customers and enjoyed seeing them browse through stacks and stacks and stacks of used books, magazines, and other ephemera unhindered.

When she first met him, Via was determined to break through his crusty exterior.

Eventually she wore him down and they became friends.

No, more than that. She considered him part of her family.

An unexpected lump appeared in her throat. Earl’s death nearly nine months ago at age seventy-three from an unexpected heart

attack had hit her hard. Sometimes the grief didn’t hurt as much. Then there were times like these when it was unexpectedly

more acute.

Sir let out a forceful meow.

“Looks like our man is ready to move on,” Sally said.

The leash grew taut in Via’s hand. “You know how he likes to be on the go.” She waved goodbye and continued her walk—past

the Wash ’N’ Dry Laundromat, then turning the corner at the Dipstick Depot Gas & Garage, where she could hear mechanics Charlie

Swenson and Vern Evans working away on a red car in the open garage bay. Via was tempted to say hi but didn’t want to disturb

their work. Charlie had started dating her sister, Dora, a few months ago after knowing each other in high school, going their

separate ways, and reconnecting. Via never would have put her artist sister with a car mechanic, but they were definitely

into each other.

After letting Sir pause and sniff the air, they crossed the street and zipped by the Pecan Corner Store, the oldest business

in Pecan Corner. Family owned since the 1800s, they sold mostly food, local products, and Amish items. Via particularly liked

to shop there for unique gifts during Christmas and other holidays.

Turning another corner, she paused in front of lawyer Bennett Pipkin’s office, then walked by Owen Holloway, the balding pharmacist

who owned Cornerstone Rx. He was setting out a sidewalk easel that said, “Pharmacists start the morning with cough-ee.”

“Very punny, Owen,” she said with a chuckle.

He proudly grinned back. The man did like a good dad joke.

Via stopped inside The Red Carnation floral shop and ordered a fall bouquet from Anna Abernathy for her mother, something

she’d been meaning to do. Mom loved fresh, seasonal flowers and Anna had been making her bouquets for years.

Once that task was done, she and Sir strolled by Needle Drop Vinyl, owned by Zander Dunaway, who had moved to Pecan Corner

six years ago to open up his store. It was surprising how many people liked going through and purchasing old and new records.

The shop was very successful for being so niche.

Via glanced at her watch and frowned. Almost nine. She’d dawdled enough. “Put some pep in those paws, Sir,” she said. Now

it was her turn to tug on his leash.

They hurried by the rest of the Pecan Corner shops—Fantastic Fiber and Textiles, Timeless Antiques and Clock Repair, and the

simply named Barb’s Barbershop.

When she reached her café, she saw Dora turn the Closed sign in the window to Open. Two of the café’s residents were lounging

in the picture window, enjoying the warm beams of morning sunlight. She’d hired Dora last year to help out her and her other

employee, Birdie Gunnerson, when the business started to take off. She’d been a perfect fit and even hosted her own art event,

Pawtrait Nights, every other Thursday night.

Via was about to open the front door when a sleek sports car slid into an empty parking space in front of Second Chapter.

Via stared. She didn’t know a Ford from a Chevy, but even she was impressed by such a fancy car.

Cherry red and looking very expensive. Pecan Corner wasn’t exactly Hollywood Boulevard or Fifth Avenue.

The small, cozy town did have its share of tourists, though, especially in the summer.

But autumn was usually quiet. She glanced at the front plate.

California. The engine cut off, and a man exited.

“Meow,” Sir said.

“Meow indeed,” Via murmured.

Never mind the car. The driver was even more striking. Thick, wavy dark hair cut short and parted to the side, angular jaw

with a faint shadow of a beard, shoulders broad enough to sit on, figuratively speaking. Even his nose was perfect, and the

cut of his dark blue suit was impeccable—the knot of his azure-blue tie a little loose around his neck, giving him a slightly

casual yet still classy air. He whipped off his black aviator sunglasses and took in his surroundings.

Sir yanked on the leash toward him but Via held fast. The man paused at the curb and fished his hand inside his pants pocket,

seemingly unaware of Via and Sir standing just a few feet away. Then he headed straight for Second Chapter.

“Mister.” Via allowed Sir to lead now. “The store is closed right now—”

Without looking at her, he inserted the key into the lock.

“Hey!” She hurried over to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Black brows narrowed over vibrant-green eyes. “Who are you?”

Octavia Bernice Dalton was never at a loss for words. Ever. Her mother nicknamed her Magpie from the time she’d been able

to talk. Her father referred to her as Chatty Cathy. Her older brother, Fergus, had called her a gasbag on a regular basis,

although he’d stopped now that they were adults. Dora was simply patient, always willing to listen to Via prattle on.

But in this moment, staring at one of the finest male specimens she’d ever laid eyes on . . . she couldn’t speak. Words flew out of her brain faster than Sir Meow chasing a stray bird, something he loved to do and was the main reason why she had him on a leash when they were outside.

When she didn’t answer, he shrugged and turned the vintage brass knob.

Her hand shot out and covered his. “Stop!”

He glanced down, then at her again, those dreamy green eyes filled with irritation.

She withdrew. “Where did you get that key?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business.” She gestured to the shop. “Because this shop is my business.”

He faced her. “What?”

“Meow.”

They both looked down. Sir had planted himself in the space between the man’s long legs. That wouldn’t do. “Come here,” she

said, tugging on the leash.

Sir didn’t move.

“What’s wrong with him?” the man said.

“Nothing.” She tugged again. Sir remained in place.

“His ears are weird.”

Her gaze snapped up. “They are not. Curled ears are characteristic of his breed. So is big-dog energy.”

He gave her an odd look, then sidestepped Sir and grabbed the knob again.

“Stop!” This time she inserted herself between him and the door. She was above average in height herself, around five nine,

but she still had to look up at him, right into his heavenly colored eyes. And wow, he smelled like smooth honey and smoky

leather. Tantalizing.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

“I’m about to call the police. You’re trespassing.” Despite his magnificent eyes, he was engaging in criminal activity. Possibly

stealing too, because other than Bennett, she was the only one who had a key to Second Chapter, and that was in case of an

emergency.

He looked incredulous. “If anything, you’re the one trespassing. I should be calling the cops on you.”

“What are you talking about?”