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Bran New Death(90)

By:Victoria Hamilton


“I’m coming, Mom. Yes, I’m getting off the phone now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Merry,” she said, and hung up.

I hope she had heeded my warning. I headed to bed, making sure Becket was comfortable first. He seemed to be okay, though he was still standoffish with me. He watched me, and it was unnerving, especially as I undressed and did my nightly ritual of shower, face cream, and hair. It seemed as if he was not used to being in the presence of a woman.

Sleep came fairly quickly, and I was happy about that. I thought about Shilo as I nodded off. I hoped she had found love. Would I ever? “Miguel,” I whispered, “will I ever find anyone like you?”





Chapter Twenty-four





I HAD A strange dream. I saw Miguel, but he was just leaving for work. I clung to him at the door, like I often did, but he told me he had to go, and I was upset. Then something woke me up—something sharp and painful—before I had a chance to ask him why he had to leave in such a hurry.

The “something sharp and painful” was a full set of cat claws. Becket’s method of waking me up was by smacking my face. He looked better, a lot better. Even his coat had regained some gloss. Being a naturally bright person, I figured that he was hungry. Yawning, I wandered downstairs, with him following me, and opened a can of tuna. I plopped it into the saucer of one of the cups that came in the box of mugs I had bought from Janice Grover. I then remembered I had a case of cat food, but it was too late. He ignored the tuna anyway, prowling back and forth near the door. Lightbulb moment—my brain is slow to work before my first coffee of the morning—he had to go to the bathroom, and didn’t like the litter box I had bought. After almost a year of living in the wild, he had developed certain habits, I supposed.

I looked down at him as he paced back and forth, scratching at the door in the butler’s pantry. “You won’t go far, right? You’ll just go out, do your business, and come right back?”

He looked up at me and meowed loudly. Sounded like a “Sure, just let me ooooout!” to me. “Okay, all right. I’m losing my mind, talking to a cat. I’m trusting you here, so go out, do your business, and come back in. You’re still on the mend, fella.” I opened the door, expecting Becket to saunter out, but he suddenly became an orange streak and headed directly for the woods. I hopped outside, my slippers hitting the cold stone, but he was already gone.

“Darn cat!” I said, only it wasn’t “darn.” I had a million things to do, but how was I going to do any of it when I was worried about the cat? The vet had cautioned me that he might seem fine, but was still recuperating; she wanted to see him again in two days. That would be hard to do if he was roaming the woods. I futzed around for a few minutes, but there was nothing to do but go looking for him. I hopped from foot to foot in the cold morning air, considering dashing after him then and there, slippers and all, but then the castle phone rang. I ran back into the kitchen.

“Hello?” I gasped.

“Merry, darling, are you okay? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

It was Pish, of all people! This early? I looked at the clock. “Why are you calling me at six a.m.? I didn’t think you even knew the early hours existed.”

“Sweetie, I was a financial planner and investment counselor for how many years? I used to get up at the crack of dawn to read the financial news before hauling myself downtown. I don’t look at dawn’s crack anymore, but I still do know it exists. Enough of that; I have news!”

“What kind of news?”

“The kind of news I can only deliver in person.”

I stood there, phone in hand, perplexed. I held the receiver away from me and glared at it for a moment. Was he kidding? “In person? I can’t come back to the city right now.”

“That’s why I thought I’d come to you!”

“You would come all the way here, to Autumn Vale, the backwater of upstate New York? To tell me what?” My stomach twisted. “Pish, is it dreadful news?”

“No, darling, it’s not dreadful,” he reassured me. “Not for you, anyway. But it is fascinating!”

“Hint! Please, Pish, a hint! I have to go search for a cat—long story—but I’ll die without a hint.”

“It has to do with Autumn Vale Community Bank. And that’s all I’m saying! I’m heading out this minute to catch a flight, but I need you to meet me at the airport in Rochester. You’re only an hour away from Rochester, right?”

“If that. More like forty-five minutes, depending on the driver.”

“Well, my flight leaves in an hour, and it’s only an hour long, so best get moving.”