Laurie Cass - Bookmobile Cat 02 - Tailing a Tabby by Laurie Cass

Author:Laurie Cass [Cass, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery: Cozy - Bookmobile - Cat - Michigan
ISBN: 0451415477
Amazon: 0451415477
Publisher: Obsidian
Published: 2014-07-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I’d been wanting to check on Aunt Frances, so I headed over to the boardinghouse after work on Wednesday.

As I was trotting up the porch’s wide steps, I spotted young Harris and the approaching-elderly Zofia sitting side by side on the porch swing, Zofia with her legs tucked up underneath her, Harris using his long legs to push them gently to and fro.

“Hey, you two,” I said. “Do anything fun today?”

Zofia patted the strong shoulder next to her, the colored glass of her costume jewelry rings flashing bright in the sunshine. “This gentleman spent the day updating the statistics for his fantasy baseball team. A nice task for a summer day, don’t you think?”

All I knew about fantasy sports leagues was that they could occupy an inordinate amount of time, even more so at the beginning of your sport’s season. I knew this because the upcoming professional football season was all that Josh wanted to talk about, in spite of the facts that it was barely August and that no one else on the library staff cared about football.

Once, Holly had told Josh to talk about football to someone who cared, like maybe Mitchell Koyne. Poor Josh had looked so hurt that I’d felt obliged to ask a couple of questions about his picks. Two years later, I was still paying the price. So instead of asking Harris about his fantasy baseball team, I gave him a smiling nod and headed into the house.

Inside, young Deena was practically sitting on the lap of the balding Quincy. They were paging through an old scrapbook of vintage postcards, their heads almost touching. While their gazes were ostensibly on the book, it was clear from the lingering touches and sidelong glances that they were only interested in each other.

My genial wave in their direction went unnoticed. I passed through to the empty kitchen, poured two glasses of lemonade, checked the cookie jar, put four oatmeal cookies on a plate, got out an old Coca-Cola tray, and carried the lot onto the screened-in porch that overlooked the forested backyard.

Aunt Frances smiled up at me from the rocking love seat. “Just what I needed. How did you know?”

“Years of experience.” I put the tray on a low table and sat next to her. “It’s what you always brought me whenever I was upset.”

As soon as I was old enough to be put on a Greyhound bus, I’d begged to be sent north to stay with Aunt Frances for the summer. She’d nursed me after I’d fallen out of a tree and broken my arm, hugged me when the boy I’d liked had called me a Mini-Munchkin, and wiped away my tears when I’d been rejected by my top college choice. Every occasion had been eased with lemonade and cookies.

She reached forward, broke a cookie in half, and handed me the larger share. “And it’s what my grandmother always brought me.”

It was a cozy thought. We rocked back and forth, eating cookies and sipping lemonade, enjoying each other’s company in companionable silence.

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