Chapter 9 #2
“All right, everyone, let’s move away from the windows, just in case,” Spenser says calmly, herding them deeper into the building, to where the seating area is. He waves me over. “Keep an eye on them while I get flashlights out of my office,” he whispers.
There are eight of us altogether: five customers, Spenser, me, and Flick, who is curled up in a chair, watching everything carefully. Her ears are forward and attentive, and despite her relaxed posture, her purple eyes are wide. I go over and give her a few reassuring strokes on the head.
“While we wait, we should either read or tell stories,” I suggest.
Max, one of the regulars, volunteers to read from the science fiction book he was planning to buy, and Spenser comes back with four flashlights.
It’s hard to hear Max over the pounding rain and wailing wind, but we lean close.
He’s five or six pages into the story when another huge clap of thunder booms directly above us and everything goes black.
There are a few gasps in the dark before people realize they can still see Spenser, who is glowing faintly. As promised, when I’m with him, I’m never really in the dark. He hands me a flashlight and passes the other two to the customers.
“Just stay calm,” he says. “I’m sure the power will be back any minute.”
As soon as he speaks, there’s another crash as a massive gust of wind forces open the front door, clattering it against the wall. I guess in all the commotion, we forgot to lock it.
I stand, prepared to close it, when lightning strikes one of the trees lining the street.
“Leave it,” Spenser says, grabbing my hand. “We’ll close it when the storm dies down.”
Another twenty minutes passes before the weather starts to settle. We’re able to wrest the door shut against the wind, and while I use some old towels to dry the entryway, Spenser checks on the customers. The power finally comes back on and people sigh in relief.
It’s still raining and blowing, but the lightning has moved off, taking the thunder with it and rendering the street relatively safe. Spenser starts to reopen the register and get everyone checked out, and that’s when I notice that Flicker’s chair is empty.
I point to it. “Hey, does anyone know where Flick is? She’s not where I last saw her.”
The small crowd immediately begins searching, which warms my heart. It would be easy to dismiss something as small as a potentially missing cat, especially when everyone is eager to get home, but these people care about Flicker and Spenser.
I quickly check the other chairs, as well as the shelves in the area we were gathered, but there’s no sign of her.
“She has to be here somewhere,” Spenser says.
He calls out for the cat, but she doesn’t appear.
With seven of us searching, it doesn’t take long to look over the whole store.
We check nooks and crannies, high shelves and low ones, and all her favorite spots.
The door to Spenser’s office and apartment is firmly closed, and no matter how special Flicker is, there’s no way she could have opened it.
“Um,” a customer named Radha says hesitantly. “What about when the door blew open? Could she have gotten out?”
Spenser immediately shakes his head. “She wouldn’t have gone into that weather.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “If the noise scared her, is there a chance she might have run without thinking? It was dark, so it’s not like we would’ve noticed.”
His face pales, turning an ashy shade of gray. “You think she might have run out in that?”
“I have no idea, but it’s worth looking.”
He nods, worry distorting his handsome features. “Can you take over the register while I search?”
Like he even has to ask. I check out the handful of customers as quickly as possible, and each one promises to keep an eye out for Flicker. When I’m done, I close down the register and think. If I were a scared cat during a storm, where would I go?
I glance out the window; Spenser is prowling up and down the street, but from the look of things, he hasn’t found her. Even from here, I can see the concern radiating off him: the tension in his tall frame, the way his antennae are standing straight up, the methodical way he’s searching.
He really loves his cat.
I do another perimeter search around the store, and that’s when I see it. Over in the corner between history and fairy tales, the basement door is open the tiniest crack. It doesn’t look like a bug could get through, much less a cat. Then again, cats are basically liquid.
I should go down there and check for her.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and flip on the light switch.
Nothing happens.
I flip it on and off a few times, just to be sure, but there’s no doubt. Whatever happened with the power during the storm did something down here. I don’t know where the breaker box is, so armed with an anemic flashlight, I gingerly creep down the stairs.
“Flicker?” I call. “Here, kitty, here, Flick Flick.”
No response.
I venture deeper into the blackness, hating every second of it. Dark, open spaces? Perfectly fine. Creepy, enclosed ones? All the nope. Ironic that I’m falling for a guy who’s nocturnal.
“Flicker!” I yell louder. “Are you down here?”
I hear a small rustling sound and shine my flashlight along the storage wall. There, partially hidden behind a box, I spot a fuzzy black ear. I walk over and move the boxes out of the way, revealing the cat, who’s all huddled up, wide eyed and worried.
I scoop her up, prepared for her to struggle, but instead she starts purring.
“Come on,” I tell her, scratching her ears. “Spenser has been looking everywhere for you. You scared him!” I hurry back up the stairs and back into the store, nearly running into Spenser in the foyer.
“No sign of her!” he exclaims at the same time I hold her up and shout, “I found her!”
He rushes to take her from me, cuddling her to his chest and whispering something in her ear. I can’t hear what he tells her, but the sight of the two of them reunited melts my heart. Turns out, I have a soft spot for a big man who likes small animals.
“Where was she?”
“In the basement, of all places. I don’t know how the door got open, but there was a tiny sliver she must have squished through. I found her hiding in the boxes.”
He shakes his head. “I think I told you, when I first found Flicker, she was in the basement. That must be one of her safe spaces or something?”
I grimace. “To each their own, I guess. Not what I would choose. By the way, the power’s out down there.”
I don’t have to tell him how I feel about that. He walks over and manages to hug me with one arm, Flicker purring between us.
“Thank you for facing your fears to rescue her. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Or you.” He plants a kiss on my forehead, and I melt faster than those specialty chocolate chips of his.
Good lord. Be still, my exploding ovaries.