Mist on the Meadow (4 page)

Her mother shook her head and turned away.
Marissa began to hum to the cat, which lay draped across the back
of her neck while she washed the supper dishes. Her mother and
Uncle Balt sang along.
“
Du, du, liegst
mir am Herzen.
”

Her mother grabbed a dish towel and handed it
to Marissa. “Wait. Did you say you got this cat from Mrs.
Harper?”

“Her grandson. You know she died, right?”
Marissa asked.

“Gerda Harper?” her mother asked Uncle
Balt.

“Yes,” he answered with a sly smile.

“She raised show cats.” Marissa’s mother
scratched the top of the cat’s head. “But this can’t be one of
them. This cat has straight ears.”

Marissa pulled the cat off her shoulders and
nestled him across her arm. “What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Harper bred Scottish Folds. Their ears
fold over, but not always, if I remember correctly. He
gave
it to you?”

Marissa’s heart skipped a beat. Surely Wolf
Harper would know the value of such an animal. “Maybe this isn’t
one of them.” But he’d mentioned the cat’s lineage. The breath went
out of her. “I thought it was your run of the mill domestic cat. I
can’t accept a pure bred cat and not pay for it.”

Uncle Balt reached up to stroke the cat. “He
needed a good home. He’s found one.”

“But if he’s valuable—”

“Would you feel more comfortable speaking to
Mr. Harper again?” Uncle Balt’s eyes twinkled in that way they did
when he knew something she didn’t.

Marissa narrowed her eyes. “You spoke to him
at the café. You’re the one who arranged all this. Did you pay for
this cat?”

Uncle Balt shook his head. “You cannot put a
price on a cat such as this.”

Marissa held the cat in front of her face. “I
don’t think I can keep you, Hex.”

“Call this Mr. Harper tomorrow,” her mother
suggested. “I’m sure you can work something out.”

“I don’t have his phone number,” Marissa
replied.

Uncle Balt held up a finger and pulled the
directions to Harper Manor from his pocket. “But I do.”

Marissa set the cat on the floor and walked
over to the phone. “Then we’ll settle this right now.” She dialed
the number before she had a chance to change her mind. As the phone
rang, she wondered what she should call him. Wolf? Mr. Harper? He
answered, and Hex chirped at her feet.

“Wolf Harper.”

Fine. She wouldn’t call him anything. He’d
identified himself. “Mr. Harper,” she rolled her eyes as soon as
she’d said it. Oh well, decision made. “This is Marissa
Maitland.”

“How’s Hex? Is he okay?”

Marissa couldn’t bear to look at Hex, worried
she couldn’t give him back. “He’s fine, but Hex is the reason I’m
calling. My mother was telling me that your grandmother was a
breeder, and I thought I should have paid you for Hex. Is he one of
her show cats?”

“He is a Scottish Fold, but he’s pet quality.
Did you want his papers?”

“What does that mean, ‘pet quality’?”

“It means he has a pedigree, he’s cute and
he’s cuddly, but he isn’t worth anything as a show cat, or even as
a stud. I did tell you he’s been neutered?”

“But he’s still worth something to people who
are interested in pure-bred cats,” she said.

“I’d say he’s worth something to you, too.
It’s enough for me to know he has a good home.”

Marissa closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. “How much is he worth?”

“If I thought you wanted to sell him, I
wouldn’t have sent him home with you.”

“I don’t want to sell him.”

“Then what does it matter?”

She put one hand on her hip. “Mr.
Harper—“

“Mr. Harper was my father. Please call me
Wolf.”

A wolf was a wild animal, not a man’s name.
“Did my great-uncle already pay you?” she asked.

She heard a sharp breath on the other end of
the phone. “No. Let’s call it even for the scratch I put on your
bumper.”

“Which I can buff out with a dab of
ten-dollar polishing cream. And you still have to buy a new
headlight.”

“That’s my problem. I slid into you,
remember?” he said.

“I don’t feel right accepting such a valuable
gift.”

“And I don’t want to argue the point, so
unless you’ve changed your mind and you don’t want Hex, I’d say our
business is concluded.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes at Uncle Balt
again, certain there was more she didn’t know. “If you’re sure,”
she said.

“I’m sure,” Wolf said.

“Then I guess I should say thank you
again.”

“No, thank you. I feel much better knowing
the cat is with someone who’ll take good care of him.”

Marissa nodded and hung up. Hex chased a
plastic milk bottle ring across the kitchen floor. “Tell me, Uncle
Balt, how you happened to find out this man was giving away his
grandmother’s cat.”

Uncle Balt leaned back in his chair. “I
thought he looked a little sad when I said hello and he told me his
grandmother had died. Once we started talking, he brought up the
cat and I thought what a wonderful gift for
meine Liebling.
I was right, wasn’t I?”

But Marissa knew better. The cat was a
Drosselmeyer gift.

* * *

“Sorry, Uncle Pete
,
” Wolf thought.
Marissa had a whole lot more class than his uncle did. Wolf was
sure he’d done the right thing.

Now if he could only figure out the
conditions of his grandmother’s will. Whatever this
Kundigerin
was, mere mention had sent his uncle scurrying
away. Good thing to remember for future reference.

Wolf laid a fire in the parlor and stared
into the flames, another glass of scotch in his fist.

“You’ll want to go easy on that stuff.” Ralph
took a seat in the corner chair.

“Who are you? My father?” Wolf asked
quietly.

“Another mystery. Your grandmother never told
me how he died.”

Wolf shook his head. She wouldn’t. His
grandmother had always said scandals in the family were meant to be
kept quiet. But what had his father done? Wolf threw back the
contents of his glass and pressed his lips closed against the
burn.

“She said you were sixteen when you came to
live with her,” Ralph said.

Wolf nodded. “Yeah.” Sixteen and angry. Too
young to understand, but old enough to recognize when people kept
secrets from him. Even his grandmother.

Ralph leaned forward “Sometimes it helps to
talk.”

“He died in a car accident.” Wolf reached for
the decanter, but Ralph laid a hand on his arm.

“The scotch isn’t going to help.”

Wolf set his glass down. “Don’t worry. I’m
not much of a drinker normally.” He looked up at Ralph’s kind face.
Ralph had found his calling as a nurse. “Only my second one today,
and you watched me drink that one, too.”

“That’s my point. You’re not much of a
drinker, and this would be your second one today.”

“I miss her. And my folks.” His eyes stung
and he closed them to check the tears. “And my sister.”

“No fun being orphaned.”

Wolf took a deep breath. “Not that
lucky.”

“I meant what I said about friendships,”
Ralph said. “If you ever need to vent about your Uncle Pete, you
know where to find me.”

Wolf nodded and smiled. “I appreciate
that.”

“So this
Kundigerin
thing. If I were
you, I’d start with her desk. There might be something in
there.”

“Thanks. I’ll take a look later on.” And yet
he couldn’t forget his uncle’s reaction. If the
Kundigerin
was a harmless garden club or cat breeder’s association, why would
Uncle Pete rush out the way he had? The fire glow performed a
hypnotic dance and the scotch warmed his belly. He was in no hurry
to go anywhere. Wolf closed his eyes for only a moment and let the
drowsiness overtake him.

He recalled the accident from this morning,
watched Marissa Maitland shake her hands in her car right after
he’d rear-ended her, sapphire blue eyes alight with anger. In his
dream version, when she stepped out of the car, he took her in his
arms and kissed her, deeply, hungrily.

A log shifted in the fireplace and Wolf
jerked upright. He looked over his shoulder and was relieved to see
Ralph had disappeared.

The long day had taken more of a toll on him
than he’d realized.

Marissa hummed the German folk song again
while she rolled out the caramel sticky buns.

“I’m opening,” Angela called out.

“I’m ready,” Marissa called back. She looked
around the kitchen for inspiration for the special of the day.
Empty muffin pans stood on their sides in the drying rack. “Pumpkin
spice cupcakes,” she said. “Lots of them. Perfect for
Christmas.”

Angela ducked into the kitchen with the
whiteboard, and Marissa passed along her decision. “And eggnog
instead of cream in the coffee,” Angela suggested.

“Great idea,” Marissa said.

“Always did make a great team.” Angela pulled
out the chart of daily specials and copied over the lunch offerings
along with the “daily treat” and coffee decisions.

Marissa continued to hum as she set to her
task. Angela returned to the kitchen and tacked the special orders
to a bar over the work table.

“I don’t think I wished you a happy birthday
yet,” Angela said while she attacked the first of the orders.

“Thanks.” Marissa looked up and smiled. She
pulled a pan of cupcakes from the oven and took the next order
sheet to start while the cupcakes cooled.

“We could stop for a drink after work.”

Marissa sighed. “That’s the problem with
having a birthday this close to Christmas. Too much to do here, and
with Uncle Balt in town . . .” She put a loaf of bread in the oven
and picked up the bag of icing she’d prepared to frost the
cupcakes. She squeezed the icing around the first two cupcakes and
then looked at Angela. “We could stop for a drink. It is my
birthday, after all.”

Becky appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You
feeling better today?” Marissa asked.

“Yeah. Monster migraine. I took my
prescription and ended up sleeping most of the day. Hey, there’s
someone out front to see you.”

Marissa raised an eyebrow and wiped her hands
on her apron. “Me?”

Angela nodded.

Probably Uncle Balt again. Marissa grabbed
one of the finished cupcakes and headed for the counter. She slowed
when she saw Wolf Harper.

“Mr. Harper,” she said.

“How’s Hex?” he asked.

Marissa’s heart pounded. He hadn’t come to
reclaim Hex, had he? How had that little ball of fur wedged itself
so deeply into her heart after only 24 hours? “He’s fine. Did you
change your mind? Do you want me to pay you for him?”

Wolf shook his head. “No. I just wanted to
make sure you were okay. No ill effects from the bump you got
yesterday? No whiplash?”

Relief flooded over her. “I’m fine. A little
stiff, but nothing to be concerned about. I still feel like I
should pay you for Hex, knowing he’s not your average alley cat.”
If she paid for him, there could be no give-backs.

He held up his hands. “We’ve been over
that.”

She caught a whiff of cinnamon before she
remembered the cupcake in her hand. “Would you like a cupcake? On
the house. Treat of the day.”

“I try to avoid sweets,” he said, but he
accepted the offering, “although I hear your shop is one of the
best in town.”

“You know it,” Angela chimed in. She put an
arm around Marissa’s waist.

Wolf smiled. “I’ll let you get back to
running your business.”

Marissa took a step toward Wolf.
I’m a
little deficient when it comes to family,
he’d said. “Do you
have plans for the holidays? I’m sure it will be strange without
your grandmother this year.”
What was she doing?

“Yeah.”

Too late to back out now. She’d already
opened her mouth. “Maybe you’d like to join my family? You’ve
obviously already received the Uncle Balt seal of approval and
there’s always room for one more at the table.” Warmth rushed to
her cheeks and her heart pounded in her chest.

“Thanks, but my aunt and uncle usually—” he
hesitated.

Angela walked down the counter toward the
register. “I’m going, too. The Maitlands always make room for
strays.”

Wolf turned toward Angela. “I’m not sure I
qualify as a stray. I do have family nearby.”

“Well, I have family, too,” Angela replied.
“Just not nearby.” She sidled down to stand beside Marissa again.
“You should come.”

An uncomfortable twinge poked Marissa. She
recognized the hair flip, the way Angela batted her eyes. “This is
their first holiday without his grandmother,” Marissa said. “He’d
probably rather be with his family.”

“Actually,” suddenly Wolf was within inches
of Marissa, his eyes trained on his cupcake, “your invitation
sounds very nice. If you’re sure there’s room?” He bumped the edge
of the display case and the cupcake tumbled from his hand, frosting
side down.

Marissa stooped to pick it up. “Let me get
you another one. Noah, can you grab a paper towel and clean this
up?”

Wolf laughed. “
Dumkoff
.”

As she tossed the cupcake into the trash, she
mustered a smile. “You speak German?”

“Something my grandmother used to say.” Wolf
shrugged.

“I met her once, your grandmother, when I was
little.” Marissa brushed her hands against her apron. “She told my
mother we came from ‘good stock’ and that I’d be something special
one day. She seemed like a nice lady.”

He smiled and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “She
was. Your great-uncle is a lot like her.”

“Let me get you that cupcake, and I’ll write
down my parents’ address—if you want to come. Dinner is on
Christmas Eve, at five o’clock.”

“I don’t need the cupcake. I should watch my
girlish figure.” He winked and gave her a smile.