“Should I tell Mom?” I asked.
“Mrr.” Eddie rolled on his back, scrunching more papers and offering up his stomach for rubbing.
“You’re right,” I said. “Wait a while and see how it goes. No sense in getting her all excited about grandchildren at this point. I could tell Kristen, though. And Aunt . . .”
I sighed. And Aunt Frances. I wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her.
But would she talk to me?
Chapter 13
The next day was a Bookmobile Day. Thessie, Eddie, and I headed to the southern part of Tonedagana County and today was our first run to an adult foster care facility, a small facility where residents need some care, but not the high-level care of a traditional nursing home. If the visit went even marginally well, I had a long list of similar facilities that were excited about the possibility of having the bookmobile make a regular stop.
Actually, the term “excited” wasn’t even close to the reactions I’d received when making the invitational phone calls. After two, I’d learned to hold the receiver away from my ear to prevent permanent damage to my eardrum.
I parked the bookmobile in the shade cast by the tall maple tree outside Maple View Adult Foster Care. As soon as I’d set the brakes, Thessie jumped out of her seat and headed to the back to start wrestling with the heavily laden book carts.
Thessie started down the steps, then paused. “What about Eddie?”
The cat in question was sitting in the middle of the floor, licking his paw and swiping the backs of his ears with it. Lick. Swipe. Lick. Swipe.
“Why can’t he come with us?” she asked. “He follows you like there’s a leash on him.”
There’d been no reason to tell Thessie about Eddie and Stan’s farmhouse, so I hadn’t. “I don’t want to take any chances,” I said. “If he saw a . . . a chipmunk or a bird, he could take off. We’d spend an hour hunting him down and we’d be late for the next stop.”
While we were opening the back door and pushing the buttons to lower the wheelchair lift that could also carry the book carts, Gayle came out to the parking lot. Gayle, the manager of Maple View, had volunteered to be the guinea pig for the first AFC bookmobile stop.
“Hi, Minnie,” she said, smiling. “Hope you brought lots of books. The residents are more excited than I would have guessed.”
I was introducing her to Thessie when a large voice trumpeted forth. “I spy a cat,” she said. “Right there in the window of the bookmobile.” The size of the voice matched the size of the woman who filled the wheelchair from one side to the other. Her white hair was short and curly and she wore a matching knit shirt and pants of lavender. “Gayle? Gayle, do you see?” she called, pointing to my little buddy. “It’s a cat come to see us.”
“Yes, Polly, I see.” Gayle glanced at Eddie, then at me. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure the cat is here to visit Maple View.”
Polly wheeled herself down the short concrete walk and across the parking lot. “We haven’t had a cat here in ages and I miss hearing a nice purr. He’s got that nice white chest, just like a tuxedo. What’s his name?”
I made a note to myself to go back in time ten minutes, shut Eddie up in his cabinet, and avoid this entire scene. “Eddie. He’s friendly, but . . .”
Gayle smiled. “The residents are used to cats. I have one of my own that I bring in once in a while.”
“Please?” Polly looked up at me beseechingly. “I miss my own cats so very much.”
My heart panged with sympathy. Now that I had a cat, I couldn’t imagine life without one. At least one particular one. I looked at Gayle. “He’s friendly, but he isn’t declawed.”
She smiled. “Mine isn’t, either. The residents know what to do.”
“And we can’t stay long. We have to be at the next stop in a little over an hour.”
“I’ll kick you out in plenty of time.”
“Well, then . . .” I got an image of a headshaking Stephen, then banished it from my brain. “If you’re sure, let’s give it a try.”
“Great!” Gayle clapped her hands. “Polly, let’s get you back into your room so you can greet Eddie properly. Minnie, I’ll send Audry out to show you things, okay?”
“Who’s Audry?” Thessie asked. She’d rolled the book carts off the ramp and was ready to take them inside.
“No idea. But I’d guess that’s her.”
Walking toward us purposefully was a woman who looked to be about ten years older than Gayle’s sixtyish, though while Gayle was short and round, this woman was short and slender, moving with a comfortable ease that put me in mind of a cat trotting on its way to do cat things.