Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 (14 page)

“Well, someone did. There’s a chunk missing.”

“What?” Rebecca’s head banged against the top of the cabinet with a loud crack. “Ouch!” She sat back on the floor and rubbed the offended spot on top of her head.

“Are you okay? I heard that. You banged your head hard.” Maddie squatted down to Rebecca’s eye level. “Let me see if you’re bleeding.”

Rebecca lowered her head for Maddie to take a look. It allowed her a few moments to collect her composure and prepare for the onslaught of questions she assumed was coming. How to explain the pilfered brownies without lying? Sean must have snitched a piece on his way out, the thief.

“Your cat must’ve gotten to it,” Brenna said. “Chocolate is toxic to dogs, but what about cats?”

“Yes, it’s toxic to cats, too,” Maddie said. “Where’s Mr. Peabody? If he ate the chocolate you may need to induce vomiting.”

Rebecca cringed. No way she’d allow Mr. Peabody to suffer through that just to keep her arrangement with Sean under wraps. She’d man up if she had to and explain the circumstances, but in the meantime a change of subject seemed in order. “How’s my battle wound? Am I going to live?”

“Your head looks fine to me. No bleeding, but you’re going to have a heck of a bump.” Maddie stood and reached a hand down to help Rebecca up.

“Wait,” said Brenna. “She can’t get up yet. We still need the blender.”

“Oh, nice,” Rebecca said. “At least we know where your priorities are.”

Brenna laid her hands on her hips. “Look, we’re talking margaritas here. You already gave our brownies to your cat. Are you really going to deprive us of our tequila, too?”

Rebecca laughed and shook her head. “Absolutely not. There’s a flashlight on top of the fridge. Hand it to me, will you? I can’t see a thing in this cabinet.”

Ten minutes later, the brownies sat on a plate, having been divided into squares for eventual devouring, and the blender stood empty as every drop of the frozen margaritas now chilled glasses garnished with salt on the rims.

“So where is Mr. Peabody?” Maddie asked, sipping her drink. “We need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” Rebecca said. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Let’s get our marathon started.”

“There was a good chunk missing from those brownies,” Maddie said. “He’ll get sick if he ate all that.”

Rebecca sighed. Maddie had a barn full of cats on her remote property--well, okay, only five or six--but still, she was a big fan of cats and wouldn’t let this go until Mr. Peabody was found and proven to be in his usual state of good health.

“I’ll go check on him. He’s probably asleep on the bed. You two get settled in. Brenna, go ahead and get the TV set up. I’ll be right back.” Was it a lie to let her friends assume the cat ate the brownies? Technically, no, she decided, but it qualified as a fine line. She’d deal later with the guilt of not offering full disclosure.

Rebecca set her glass on the counter and speed walked down the hall in search of Mr. Peabody. She checked his usual snooze spots and, bewildered, returned to the living room. “I can’t find him. Has he wandered through here?”

Maddie and Brenna shook their heads. Rebecca rotated in the center of the living room, eyes lighting anywhere and everywhere Mr. Peabody might be camped out.

“Oh, my god. The front door. It didn’t close all the way.” She stared at the narrow gap between the door and the jamb, and fear crept into her chest. “What if he got out?”

She yanked the door open and stepped onto the porch, peering into the yard for any sign of Mr. Peabody. The deflated Santa lay in a heap on the brown Bermuda lawn in front of the porch, and a trio of sparrows perched in the bare maple tree in the middle of the yard. A squirrel scampered down the trunk and ran across the street, disappearing from view beneath a thick groundcover of blue-rug junipers. No Mr. Peabody in sight. Rebecca moved down the steps and into the yard, her eyes peeled for any sign of the cat. She found none. Her throat closed with fear and quick tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked back the moisture and loped to the end of her driveway when a sheriff’s patrol car drove up the street. It slowed when she flagged it down, and she swallowed her dismay that the driver was not Nate, but that jackass, Artie Brewster.

“Hey, Artie,” she said when he buzzed down the passenger window. “My cat got out just a few minutes ago. He’s an old boy, a long-haired orange tabby. Don’t suppose you’ve seen him, have you?”

“The county doesn’t pay me to look for cats.”

Rebecca swallowed her sass and forced a smile, which she knew looked more like a snarl because she saw it reflected back at her in his mirrored sunglasses. “I know that. But would you mind just keeping an eye out for him?”

Artie removed his sunglasses and stared at her, his lips curved in the insolent smile she remembered from their high school days. “What’s in it for me?”

The fine hairs at the back of Rebecca’s neck bristled. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying, now that you and Humphrey aren’t a couple, maybe me and you can get together sometime.”

“I’m actually seeing someone,” Rebecca said, “so I have to decline. But I’d sure appreciate you giving me a call if you spot my cat.”

Artie’s smile remained in place while his dark eyes hardened. He slid his glasses back on and Rebecca saw herself again as he did, with mussed hair and a phony smile.

“You have a nice day now,” he said. Rebecca stepped back when the window buzzed up and he peeled off.

Brenna and Maddie joined her outside. Maddie slid her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders and squeezed her into a hug. “Brenna looked through the house again, and I checked the backyard. We’ll find him. Has he ever gotten out before?”

“No. He’s never even tried. You’ve seen him. He’s a big fat cat that likes his creature comforts.” Rebecca tamped down worried tears. “He won’t know what to do outdoors. He’s always been an indoor cat.”

“Let’s look inside again,” Brenna said. “Maybe he’s found a good hiding place and we just missed him. And if we still can’t find him after another go, we’ll take a walk and hunt him down. C’mon, honey. Let’s go find your fur-baby.”

Rebecca nodded, but the pressure in her chest didn’t abate. She knew without going through the house again that Mr. Peabody was gone.

***

The search for Mr. Peabody took the three women up and down every street within a six block radius, encompassing the within-walking-distance residential areas, including Bright Street and the back alleys associated with the commercial businesses, culminating in a stop at the Lump & Grind for much needed fortifications.

“Gotta work harder now,
liebchen
. The boss lady just came in.” The words were spoken to a thin teenage boy by Greta, originator of the cinnamon buns that were the signature pastry of the Lump & Grind. The boy’s dark eyes widened, and he stood stock still at the sight of Brenna striding through the door with Maddie and Rebecca. Greta, who stood under five feet tall, even in heeled shoes, and who had in the past been likened to both a troll and a gnome, scowled at the boy and growled, “What part-a work harder didn’t you get?” She shook her gray head and turned her wrinkled face toward Brenna. “You s’posed to be off today, Boss Lady. You need some of Greta’s buns to fix your day?”

“We need TLC,” Brenna said. “We’ve spent the last two hours looking for Rebecca’s cat. He snuck out and disappeared.”

“
Ach
, cats.” Greta waved her gnarled hand and went up on her tip-toes to rest her arms on the counter. “Cats are sneaky. They have their own way.” She turned to the boy. “Gawking ain’t gonna fix the brew,
liebchen
. Three caramel macchiatos, venti, and do good, or the Boss Lady will eat you for dinner.”

“Don’t listen to her, Darren,” Brenna said. “Greta’s scarier than I’ll ever be.”

The old woman cackled and nodded her head. “He’s thinkin’ it, but he won’t say it. Will you
liebchen
?” She patted Darren’s back, and her broad wink encouraged a shaky smile from the boy. “You’re a good kid.” To Brenna, she said, “Let me heat up the buns. They’re A-1 today.”

“They always are.” Maddie smiled. “Caleb used to bring me Greta’s cinnamon buns and coffee in the mornings when he was renovating my kitchen, before we got together.”

“Interesting mating ritual.” Brenna narrowed her eyes and tapped her chin with a French-tipped finger. “I wonder if there’s a way to spin that for marketing.”

“
Ach
, you. It’s always marketing this, marketing that.” Greta wrinkled her generous nose and wiped her hands on her apron. “Me? I just wanna bake and brew, that’s all I want.”

Brenna flashed the older woman a wide smile. “And I’m so very grateful for that.”

Greta’s eyes gleamed. “Show me next paycheck, maybe I’ll believe you. Go sit. Greta’s buns and the best coffee in town, coming right up.”

“So where should we look next?” Maddie asked after the women were situated with their coffee and pastries. “Rebecca? What’s the plan?”

Rebecca blew out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.” She sipped her coffee and broke off a gooey piece of cinnamon bun but left it on her plate. “We’ve been everywhere here in town. He’s such a big ol’ lazy boy, I find it hard to believe he got very far. He’s probably napping under somebody’s porch.”

“I hope you’re right.” Brenna said. “If we still don’t find him on the walk back to your house, let’s make up flyers. You can post here, and I know Bubba-Jo’s and Aunt Addie’s will let you put a flyer in their window. So will the Blueberry Boutique. We can ask Sean, too. His office is just up the block.”

“And I’ll post at the elementary school tomorrow,” Maddie said. “There are a couple of bulletin boards, and I’ll tack it up in my classroom, too.”

Rebecca’s eyes welled. “Thanks, y’all. I still can’t believe he ran off. He’s never gotten out before.”

“Cats have a fantastic sense of smell, and of course they’re curious as all get out. He probably smelled something interesting and followed his nose. It’s possible he didn’t go far,” Maddie offered with an encouraging smile.

Rebecca bagged her unfinished cinnamon bun and brought it with her as they resumed the search for Mr. Peabody. The blue sky and sunshine gave way to a wintery cloud cover and a brisk wind that chilled to the bone. Sean standing barefoot and jacketless that morning in Rebecca’s backyard with the sun gleaming on his black hair seemed a million light years away. If she hadn’t been so eager to keep her friends from finding out about the arrangement with Sean, none of this would have happened. Guilt gnawed at her belly, but she ignored it. Blabbing about the situation wouldn’t change it, and if she were honest with herself, she feared they might think less of her if they knew the truth. Guilt swelled, and she pushed it down again. No need to open that Pandora’s Box.

They continued their search of the downtown area, rounding the corner at the end of the block where Dante planned to open his Bistro, and farther down the street toward Sean’s office. As they neared his place of business the door opened and a ponytailed blonde, tight jeans hugging her butt and a scoop-necked sweater showing off her cleavage to great advantage, stepped out to the sidewalk. She closed the door, locked it, and strode to a red Miata, top up, parked at the curb.

“Emma, hey,” Brenna called and waved.

The blonde glanced up and waved back, smiling as if she’d just been crowned Miss America.

“Y’all just missed Sean. He was here for a little while, but he didn’t stay long. Said he was headed to the gym. I’m meeting up with him later. You want me to have him call you?”

Rebecca sucked in a surprised breath, and the cold air made her cough. Maddie patted her back and regarded her with curiosity.

“Actually, we’re not here for Sean. We’re looking for my friend’s lost cat,” Brenna said.

“Oh, bummer. Do you have a picture?”

Rebecca withdrew a photo from her pocket. “His name is Mr. Peabody.”

“Cute. I’ll keep an eye out.” Emma shivered in the wind. “It’s, like, totally freezing out here. The day sure turned on us, didn’t it? If y’all don’t mind, I’m going to get out of the cold. Nice to see you!”

Rebecca watched Emma fold her lithe body into the sports car and drive away.

“Girl needs to turn those headlights down,” Brenna said, and it took a moment for Rebecca to realize she wasn’t talking about Emma’s car.

“Who is--” Rebecca began, staring after the Miata.

“Emma Rayburn. Her dad used to work with my dad, and Sean hired her on part-time as a favor. She’s prelaw at UNG. He gives her mostly busywork, stuff Mrs. M doesn’t feel like doing. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

Rebecca frowned. It just figured Sean had a Nordic goddess working for him.

“How old is she?” Maddie asked as they continued down the block.

“Good question. I’m really not sure. She’s been crushing on Sean forever, though, and she sure looks legal to me. Hold on.” Her lips drew up in a mischievous grin. “I’ll find out.”

Brenna wrestled her phone from the pocket of her snug jeans and dialed. “Hey, Sean,” she said few seconds later. “I just saw Emma coming out of your office. She looked like her clothes were painted on.” Brenna chuckled at Sean’s reply. “Has she conned you into dating her yet? She said she’s meeting up with you later, so I thought maybe--” After a couple beats, she burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay. You’re off the hook. Go back to your bench presses. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She clicked off the call and tucked her phone back into her pocket, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “He said he can’t control her wardrobe, and he won’t date any woman who has ever had the poor judgment to pay good money for a Justin Bieber concert.”

“Why’s he meeting her later?” Maddie said, and Rebecca wanted to kiss her for asking.

“She’s running by his house to pick up some old law journals he said she could have. No juicy gossip, ladies. Sorry.”

They continued their trek with their eyes peeled for any sign of Mr. Peabody, but the cat remained unfound. Shivering, the trio of women raced up the driveway and into Rebecca’s house to escape the cold.

“I need a margarita,” Brenna said the minute she stepped into the house.

“Wouldn’t something hot be better?” Maddie asked, unzipping her jacket. “I’m not sure a frozen beverage is the smartest choice right now.”