Chapter Nine #3
The wretched cat didn’t look like it was dying of anything to me. It looked big and fat and healthy. “How do you know if an animal has rabies?” I asked Ali, who was flopped across the bare mattress on my brass bed.
“Is it foaming at the mouth?”
“Is that a sign?” I couldn’t see any foam.
Ali shrugged.
“We need to get it out of here,” I ordered as Flo slid a saucer of water under the loveseat for the cat.
“Don’t crash out, Mom, it’s just a cat. Come on, kitty,” Flo cooed to it. “I’m going to call it Marmalade.”
“You’re not keeping it.”
“Zoe! You’ve got visitors!” Suni’s voice came singing up the stairs.
Visitors? Who the hell would be visiting me?
“I want the cat out by the time I get back, Flo. Open up the windows so it can get out.”
“It’s all right, Marmalade,” Flo soothed the still hiding cat. “I won’t let her throw you out the window.”
“I’m not throwing it out the window, Flo, I’m encouraging it out,” I huffed. “And don’t you dare touch that thing, it might have rabies. Ali!” I begged. “Watch her closely. I don’t want a rabid kid.”
Sighing, Ali got off the bed and came over to slump in an armchair instead.
I closed the door and jogged down the stairs and out to the screened porch, where Suni stood chatting to two older men.
One was tall and languid, in a linen shirt and tailored shorts and boat shoes; the other was short and frenetic, his gaze darting all over the clutter.
The taller man was holding a basket and chatting easily to Suni.
“Zoe, these are your neighbors,” Suni said as I joined them. “Roger and Alan. They run the bed-and-breakfast next to the hardware store.”
“Ah, the lovely Zoe,” the taller man said. He had a sweet smile and a twinkle in his soft brown eyes. “Doris said you were young and lovely, and she wasn’t wrong. Which she sometimes is, isn’t she, Alan?”
“Sometimes,” Alan said dryly. He had salt and pepper hair that stood up in tufts at the back, as if in protest at the heat.
His round cheeks were like ripe apples and he gave off an air of distracted but limitless energy.
I assumed this was the famous Alan who upset Jake by playing the bagpipes at dawn.
“We thought we’d bring you a little something to welcome you to the neighborhood,” Roger said warmly, offering the basket.
He peeled back the checkered tea towel to reveal a mountain of golden, powdery rolls.
“They’re scones.” He was clearly proud of them.
“I got the recipe from an Englishman I romanced in my youth. It was the best thing about him.” Roger laughed.
“There are also some homemade preserves in there. We thought you’d need some sustenance on moving day.
Especially given… well, you know.” He waved his languid hand at the pile of furniture in the corner.
“Isn’t that kind,” Suni exclaimed as I took the basket.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I wish I could offer you a coffee or… anything. But… well, you know,” I echoed, also waving a hand at the room.
“We do know,” they said in unison. They seemed delighted to be inside the house, knee-deep in my mess.
“There are some treasures in here, though, aren’t there?” Alan said, peering around with curiosity.
“Oh, look at him.” Roger grinned. “Desperate to go ferreting around for treasures. Loves his antiques, you know, and Jake would never let him go poking around.”
“What do you plan to do with it all?” Alan asked, his gaze settling on the walnut wireless radio.
“Um, sort through it first, I suppose. And then sell anything valuable.”
“Well, do keep me in mind if you’re selling things,” Alan said, his bright blue eyes darting back to me.
“Oh stop,” Roger scolded him. “She’ll think we’re here with ulterior motives, and we only came to welcome her.”
Alan’s apple cheeks flushed even redder. “Of course. Welcome. But if you do need any assistance sorting the wheat from the chaff, or a place to start looking for buyers, I’d be only too happy to help.”
“Thank you.” I sighed. “I might take you up on that.”
“Mom! I got it!” Flo came bursting in with her arms full of fluffy ginger cat.
“I told you not to touch it!” I didn’t know whether to rip the possibly rabid cat out of her arms or not. What if it bit or scratched her? Wasn’t that how you got rabies? It was probably best not to make any sudden moves.
“Ah, you found Debussy,” Roger clucked. “Naughty boy, we’ve been looking for you!”
“He’s yours?” Flo’s face fell.
“Not exactly,” Alan said, although he reached out to scratch the cat under the chin.
The animal was dangling limply from Flo’s grip, its yellow eyes unperturbed.
“Debussy belongs to no one. He’s his own man.
He pops in for a visit now and then, though, usually after Jake’s been throwing out those stinking lobster scraps.
Marly used to feed him regularly, though, so he tends to be here more than anywhere. ”
That was the second time today I’d heard the name Marly. I wanted to know more about the woman who’d lived here, but at present I was distracted by getting the cat out of Flo’s arms.
“He doesn’t have rabies, does he? My mom is convinced all cats have rabies.” Flo gave me a pitying look.
“Not as far as I know.”
“There you go, Mom. You can chill.” Flo hiked the cat up as it tried to slide out of her grasp.
“I’m Florence,” she told our visitors, and once they’d introduced themselves she began peppering them with questions about their clifftop hotel.
“Do you actually have to cook people breakfast in a bed-and-breakfast, or is it just a name?”
“I’ll go put these… somewhere,” Suni said, taking the basket of scones off me. “Maybe I’ll get Alison to go get some takeout coffees…”
From outside there came a loud curse. Alan and Roger turned, concerned. “I think the man with the scythe may have run into trouble?”
Following the noise, I saw that Wayne had discovered that his new toy was nearly useless. Both he and the scythe had ended up tangled in thorny brambles.
“Maybe you should hire someone to do that?” Roger suggested mildly from behind me.
“Oh, I have. Wayne’s just trying to make a start,” I said, as I tried to pull Wayne out of the brambles.
“Is everything okay?” Mr. Coutts from next door appeared.
“We’re just trying to clear a patch so we can empty some of the furniture out onto it,” Wayne grumbled as he regarded his scratches.
“For the love of God, Wayne, just use the power tools from the hardware store,” Suni exclaimed. “I told you that old thing was useless.”
“Do you need extra hands?” Mr. Coutts asked me.
“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to help,” I assured him.
“It’s no trouble. That’s what neighbors are for. And I’ve wielded a power tool or two in my time.”
“Well, I haven’t,” Roger said lightly, “but I can certainly bring a delivery of coffees and sandwiches.” He elbowed Alan. “And Al can put on his work clothes and get involved, can’t you, hon?” He winked at me. “Anything for a chance to get a closer look at your clutter.”
That was how I found my backyard full of helpers that first day.
Between Elton Coutts from next door, Alan from the bed-and-breakfast, and Wayne, Suni, and me, we managed to clear a decent-sized patch of the garden by late afternoon.
Roger brought a cooler of cold drinks and a ready supply of sandwiches and cookies.
And late in the day he threw an embroidered tablecloth over a couple of milk crates and served us an afternoon tea of scones with preserves and cream.
That was how Jake found us when he ambled in after the lunch rush at the lobster shack. We were all sitting on the back porch, sticky with preserves and sweaty from cleaning up the yard.
“You found Debussy,” he said, seeing the orange cat sprawled across Flo’s lap. He didn’t seem half as surprised to see the rest of them. If anything, he looked like he’d expected it.
“Is he yours?” Flo asked suspiciously, drawing the cat closer.
“God, no.”
She relaxed. “Good.”
“You never said our new neighbor was pretty,” Roger rebuked him lightly.
I flushed, my gaze darting to Jake. He was in a powder blue T-shirt that made his eyes glow like the morning sky.
“It didn’t seem relevant.” Jake shrugged.
Roger snorted. “That’s why we despair for you, Jake.”
“You left it to Doris to tell us too!” Alan complained. “You know we hate finding things out after Doris.”
“I brought the door.” Jake ignored them and addressed me. But he looked a touch pink and wouldn’t meet my eye. “Okay if I put it up now?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, aware I was sounding oddly stiff and formal. I rose from the swing and rubbed my sticky hands on my jeans.
Jake’s double dimples dented faintly. “All right then.”
“Do you need me to help?” I asked.
“Sure.” Jake shot Roger and Alan a look, as though they’d said something. Which they hadn’t.
“Lead the way,” I invited. I was feeling tired after a hot day’s work in the yard.
It was a bit demoralizing to pick our way through the maze of junk in my yard as we headed out and around the front.
I felt like we were just moving junk from one place to another but not really making progress.
Having a working front door would be something, at least.
“You want to hold the ply while I take the bolts out?” Jake bent over his toolbox once we’d reached the front porch.
I braced myself against the plywood that covered our missing front door, and with a short buzz of his tools, Jake soon had the thing off.
“Hop out the way,” he said gently, as he carted the plywood out to the front porch.