Cat's Eyewitness (8 page)

11

N
ot necessarily.” Rev. Herb Jones’s gravelly voice had a hypnotic effect on people.

“I’ve become a cynic, I fear.” Alicia’s lustrous eyes, filled with warmth, focused on Herb.

They’d run into each other at Pet Food Discounters. Alicia was buying toys and pigs’ ears for Maxwell, while Herb carried flats of special cat food for his two cats. He’d placed them on the counter, then walked to the toy section for some furry fake mice, when he bumped into Alicia.

The subject of the “miracle” came up and Alicia asked if Herb thought this might be a scam.

“Your line of work taught you not to trust.” Herb placed his hand on Alicia’s shoulder, feeling a pleasurable twinge when he did so. No man was immune to her beauty.

“And your line of work taught you the reverse.” She smiled at him.

He reached for the furry mice with pink ears, little black noses, little beady eyes, the tail a dyed bit of thin leather. “I’ll ponder that, Alicia. I have learned to trust God in His infinite wisdom, but I don’t know that I always trust man—or should I say people?” He blushed. “Words change, you know. I’m beyond being politically correct. I, uh, well, I still think it’s proper to open the door for a lady.”

“So do I.” Her laughter sounded like a harp’s glissando. “But, now, Herb, do you think I’m a hard-edged feminist and will take offense if you use ‘man’ to mean humankind?” His eyebrows raised and she continued. “I won’t take offense, but I will take note.” Now her eyebrows raised. “So long as ‘man’ is the measure of all things, women will be shortchanged. I guarantee you that.”

“Point well taken.” He rubbed the fur on the mousies. “Antonia Fraser wrote a book some years ago. I wish I could remember the title but it was about men being the measure of all things in the seventeenth century, I believe. Quite good. I like her work even if I have forgotten the title.”

“I do, too. That’s one of the things we share, you know, a love of books.” She selected a fake sheepskin doll, a sheepskin bone, and put them in her shopping cart. “Maxwell adores these toys. I tell him, ‘Bite the man,’ and he runs for the doll. If I say, ‘Bite the bone,’ he goes and shakes it and then brings it to me. You know, Herb, the love of a dog is the most perfect love in the world.”

He chuckled. “Elocution and Cazenovia will disagree with you.”

“Your communion cats.” She laughed again, because all of Crozet had heard the story of Herb’s cats eating the communion wafers, assisted in this desecration by Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker.

“They’re very religious cats.”

At this they both laughed.

He accompanied her as she walked down the aisle, which was stacked with foods, medicines, toys, and new products. How marvelous it was to walk with a woman. His wife had passed away some years ago. Grief still sat heavy on his shoulders, although he tried not to burden his friends. Only within the last six months could he imagine dating again. Imagining and doing were still worlds apart. He fretted over his age. Was he too old? Was he too set in his ways? Was he too overweight? Yes. Would he go on a diet? Maybe. Food was a comfort. He’d tussle back and forth with himself until he realized he most likely wouldn’t do much of anything until he found a woman who caught his eye. Alicia did that. But, then, she knocked everyone for a loop.

As he strolled with her, chatting, reaching up high on shelves for her, placing twenty-five-pound bags of feed in her cart, energy flowed through him. When young, his father and mother had patiently counseled him on the qualities of a good mate, and he’d listened. His wife, very attractive, had been his lover, his friend, his partner. He’d chosen wisely.

He felt empty without a woman, and it wasn’t just sex. He loved doing for a woman. He loved picking up the twenty-five-pound bags of dog food for Alicia. She could pick them up herself, but he could do it with such ease. The thousand small attentions a Virginia gentleman pays to a woman made him feel like more of a man. Without a woman to care for, dote over, occasionally fuss with and then kiss and make up, what was life, really?

“I’m so glad to be home. I don’t know why I waited so long to come back.” Alicia placed the furry mice in Herb’s cart.

Herb put in a trial can of cat food that supposedly controlled hairballs. “If you want to get rid of hairballs, shave the cats.” He laughed.

“Then you’d have to buy them little mink coats.”

They laughed again. The glass front door opened. Harry and Susan swept through, Susan marching in front. She spied Alicia and Herb.

“Herb, say prayers for me. I’ve lost my marbles. I mean it. Sssst.” She indicated that her brain circuits had fried.

Harry caught up, quickly defending herself. “Don’t listen to her. She’s—”

“No. Wait, let me tell them. First,” Susan held up her forefinger, “look out the window. Gray skies, snow falling, not nasty-nasty but not great. So if it’s that way down here, imagine what it’s like on the mountain. Did I consider that? I did. Did I let my best friend talk me into going back to Afton? I did. Tucker, Mrs. Murphy, and Pewter ran through the iron fence—”

Harry interrupted, “The monks locked the big iron gates.”

“And we stood there in the cold—which was worse that high up—snow falling, and we waited for those three little shits to come back. Excuse me for swearing. We had no business being up there in the first place, and you can’t see the hand in front of your face. It’s a miracle we didn’t slide off the face of Afton Mountain.”

“The Virgin Mary is working miracles,” Alicia said with a straight face, then laughed. Herb couldn’t help it; he did, too.

“Herb.” Harry stared at him in mock horror.

“I’m a Lutheran minister, not a Catholic. I don’t believe in miracles.”

“You do, too.” Susan’s lower lip jutted out.

“I do but not—mmm, how can I put this—let’s say that there’s a reliquary with the tooth of St. Peter. Do I believe it will cure your ills? No.”

“But if you were a dentist it might improve business should you own the reliquary.” Alicia leaned on to him for a second.

Even Susan laughed, recovering from her snit. It worried her that she couldn’t control her bad moods, her anxiety. Harry always talked her into stupid things. Susan would bark at her and that would be the end of it, but lately, every little thing about everyone—including her own self—irritated the hell out of her.

“Locked the gates?” Alicia folded her arms together, leaning on the handrail of the cart. Alicia’s pearl necklace, which she wore often, glowed against her skin, each pearl the size of a large pea, perfectly shaped. Her shirt was open just enough to reveal delicious cleavage.

Harry noticed, like most women looking at another woman. She saw Alicia’s beauty but it had no sexual effect on her. Seeing a beautiful woman was like seeing a beautiful horse. She appreciated it.

Susan didn’t notice. Herb did, and a warm glow spread to parts of his anatomy he thought moribund.

“I wonder what’s going on up there?” Harry hated not knowing things.

“Nothing,” Susan said.

“Susan, you saw the statue. How can you say that?” Harry had had enough of Susan’s mood.

“I did. I did. It moved me, but that doesn’t mean something’s going on. We should all let it go.”

“Not going to happen,” Herb sagely replied. “It’s too good a story on many levels. And if it is something we can’t explain, so be it. Why must we try and explain everything? How about simply experiencing it and thanking God for the opportunity to experience it?”

“Eloquently put.” Alicia nodded in agreement.

“Tell that to Miss Marple.” Susan’s humor was returning.

“Go ahead and laugh.” Harry tossed her head, effecting disdain, which made the others laugh.

Herb glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave such pulchritude, but I told Tazio Chappars I’d meet her at her office today. She’s drawn up some preliminary plans for remodeling the meeting room in the annex. Doing a garden shed for Miranda, too. I’d like to see those plans when she’s finished.”

“Wait one second, Herb.” Harry ran to the toy section, picked out a big shaggy doll, took the tag off, and gave it to Herb. “For Brinkley.” She mentioned the special yellow Lab that Tazio rescued last year. “I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve got to pay for my things.” He looked at the long line. Pet Food Discounters was always jam-packed. He said, “Better put it back. I’ll never make the meeting on time.”

“Herb, don’t give it a second thought. I’ll bring the cat food and toys to you this afternoon, if you’ll be home,” Alicia offered.

“I will.” He’d break or move whatever appointment he had. “Let me give you the money.” He reached into his pocket.

Alicia put her hand on his wrist. “We can settle up later. You go or you’ll miss your meeting. You know Tazio will work her magic. I can’t wait to see what she’s come up with.”

Tazio Chappars was a young architect who had won a big commission from The University to build a new sports complex. From this, other large commissions soon flowed. She kept her office in Crozet. The encroaching fame didn’t go to her head. She served on the vestry board with Harry, both women exhibiting a lot of common sense. They worked well together.

Herb kissed each woman on the cheek, then hurried out the door.

“He may be the best man I have ever met.” Susan put her hand in her pocket.

“And here comes one of the worst.” Harry put her hand on her hip, calling to the curly-haired man who stepped through the door, “You’re stalking us!”

Bo Newell, graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, owner of Mountain Area Realty, grinned as he beheld the ladies. “The Three Amuses. I’m not stalking you, I’m seeking divine inspiration.”

“Buying food for the Almost Home Center?” Susan asked, since Bo and his wife, Nancy, along with Bette Grahame, spearheaded a drive to build a no-kill shelter in Nelson County.

“Yes.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Thought I’d go up and pray on Afton Mountain for an angel. We need contributions.”

“Not today. Another storm is brewing,” Susan replied. “And the monks have locked the gates.”

His light eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding?”

“No,” Susan said. “Harry forced me to go up there.”

“At gunpoint, I’m sure,” he slyly replied.

“Kidnapped,” Harry said.

“Held hostage against her will.” Alicia picked up on it.

“Is this like the rape of the Sabine women where they were carried off against their will? Harry just carried you off to the mountain?” Bo solemnly asked.

“Well, not with the two of us.” Susan’s mood was passing. “Murder maybe.”

“Me!”

“Harry, it really does occur to me on the odd occasion.” Susan nodded.

“Right here in Pet Food Discounters.” Bo, voice rising, rubbed his hands. “But really, Susan, the monks have locked the gates?”

“Yes.”

“That will keep Nordy out. Jesus, that guy is like a hemorrhoid. He slips down and hangs around.” Bo was warming up, his typical outrageous humor in play. He paused, lowered his voice, now sounding achingly sincere. “Actually, I don’t have to drive to Afton Mountain. The Madonna is in front of me.” He kissed Alicia’s hand.

“Bo, you are so full of it,” Harry said.

“Think of me as Divergent Mary,” Alicia quipped.

Bo loved a witty woman. “I’ll think of you often.” He sighed. “Well, ladies, I’ve got strays to feed. That must be how Nancy thinks of me. Was I lucky or what! I practiced my hangdog look.”

“You were lucky.” Susan smiled as he waved, heading toward the stacks of fifty-pound chow bags.

Alicia watched Bo for a moment, then turned to the two friends. “My friend Maggie Sheraton will be visiting me next week. I thought I’d give a small dinner party and invite Herb. Maggie lost her husband a few years ago. I think the two of them would get along.”

“You mean Margaret Sheraton the actress?” Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t she win an Oscar?” Susan rummaged her brain for the film.

“Best Supporting Actress. Um, twelve years ago. She works now and then but, you know, Maggie is in her early sixties. The business ignores actresses who age. It’s a sin to grow old in Hollywood. She’s still good-looking. A man with Herb’s strong character and warmth would appeal to her.”

“He’s not too fat?” Harry blurted.

“Harry.” Susan elbowed her.

“Sorry.”

“He is portly. She’ll overlook it, but if a spark should fly between them, I bet he gets himself in better shape. He’s let himself go.”

“Miranda did that after George died,” Harry remembered.

“Look at her now. She looks years younger. Lost the weight. Found love—another one of those miracles.” Alicia smiled.

“Maybe there’s one left over for me,” Susan said plaintively.

“Honey, now, everything will be all right. Really. I just know things aren’t what you think.” Harry hugged Susan. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I hope so.” Susan sighed.

Alicia reached for Susan’s hand. “Courage. Life calls for courage.” She squeezed her hand. “And Harry is right, it will all turn out.”

“Think you’ll find love again?” Harry couldn’t help herself. She shouldn’t have asked this directly and not in a public place.