Downton Tabby (2 page)

Back in Texas, I was trained as a people therapist, but, thanks to my lying, cheating, ex-husband and a major scandal courtesy of the aforementioned ex, I’d lost my license to practice and had decided to leave my beloved Lone Star State and start over. Which leads me to the next pothole in this morning that had already been headed downhill faster than a runaway wagon.

I had showered and dressed (jeans and a new Akris white cotton crepe tunic I’d paid way too much for) and taken my pooch, Dogbert, for a quick walk around the block.

Back at home, Thelma and Louise, the two felines in charge of the household, checked to make sure I’d left them sufficient provisions for their day and then went back to soaking up the sun.

I reached down to pet the two and glanced outside. My patio doors framed a view I never took for granted. Blue sky touched bluer water that danced along the coast and reached out toward tomorrow.

Prodding myself to stop daydreaming and get moving, I turned from the picture-postcard view. My home, unlike the
House Beautiful
home I’d grown up in, was best described as “lived-in chic.” Or at least that’s how I saw it. Bookshelves jammed with books, not for display, but actually read and loved. Comfortable people and pet-friendly furniture, sturdy furnishings accessorized with eclectic bric-a-brac, the remnants of a dog-treat recipe experiment from the night before. My home.

I grabbed a few of the new dog biscuits and threw them into my Coach tote, snagged my phone from the dining-room table, and had been fixin’ to head out to meet with Spencer and Cork.

Just as I’d been about to toss my phone in my bag, it rang.

“Hello,” I’d answered as I picked up my car keys.

“Don’t hang up.” Well, shoot. It was Geoffrey, my ex.

Don’t hang up?
Hells bells, I hadn’t heard from him in over a year, and I wouldn’t have even answered if I’d known it was him.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

Y’all are probably thinking that was a bit rude of me, and it’s true. My mama had raised me better and would have been absolutely appalled at my bad manners. But you see, I’ve come a long way in the not-pretending department. And though I’m usually very polite, I’m frankly not sure of the proper greeting for a yellow-bellied, lying cheat whom you once loved. A man who slept with a client, broke your heart, and destroyed your life. At least my life had sure seemed destroyed at the time.

“Carolina, it’s so nice to hear your voice. Did I catch you at a bad time?” The louse must want something. I would bet good money Geoff wasn’t simply calling me to shoot the breeze.

“I was about to walk out the door,” I told him.

“Where to?” His voice was as smooth as Kentucky bourbon, just like I remembered. The slightest flavor of the south in those cultured tones, but where it had once thrilled me, it now grated on my nerves.

“Work.” I continued collecting my things.

“That’s right, you counsel canines and kitties.” He laughed.

I did not.

“Get to the point, Geoffrey.” I’d been patient, but I was done talking, and my short fuse had nothing to do with my red hair and everything to do with my Texas baloney detector. And if I’m honest, maybe just a little, my lack of caffeine.

“Sorry to hold you up.” I pictured his face in my mind and had a momentary flash of wondering if he’d changed physically. I hadn’t seen him since the last court date. “Here’s the thing, Carolina. I’m going to be in LA on business, and I’d like to see you.”

“Why?” The question shot right out of me.

“Why not?” His response had been just as quick. “I think we both need some closure.”

“No thanks, Geoffrey.” I got in my car. “I’ve got closure.”

And with that I pushed the disconnect button.

SO, AFTER THAT rocky start, I have to say I believe I’d done a pretty dang good job of focusing on Spencer and Cork and maintaining my cool.

But now I was ready for some coffee. Beyond ready. I started the car and put it in gear.

Koffee Klatch, here I come.

The Koffee Klatch was a local coffeehouse right on Pacific Coast Highway and on my way to the office. There was no good reason for it this time of day, but the line was endless. Verdi, our part-time receptionist at the office, also worked at the local coffeehouse. She was behind the wide wooden counter this morning, but even her speed and efficiency couldn’t move people through fast enough. Granted, my caffeine deficiency may have impacted my view of the line.

My impatience must have shown on my face because the lovely, multi-pierced, burgundy-haired Verdi didn’t attempt to chat. She just handed me my usual hazelnut latte and took my money. I’d always known she was one sharp chick, and her silent competence confirmed it. I thanked her and left. Caffeine in hand. Finally.

The aroma soothed me as I took a satisfying sip. She’d given me a large. Like I said, the girl was sharp.

When I arrived at the office, the building was locked up tight. As you’ve probably already figured out, if Verdi was on duty at the Koffee Klatch, she was not on duty at the office. I share office space with a realtor, a psychic, and an investment advisor. None of us have a ton of administrative needs, so it works out.

A delivery van was pulled up out front, and the driver had parked himself at our door. His I’ve-got-other-places-to-be posture said he wasn’t happy with not being able to drop his delivery and run.

“Here ya go.” He thrust a package at me. “Sign here.”

I shifted my bag and my latte and took it. It was a big envelope and a bit awkward to hold. And undoubtedly not for me. Suzanne, the psychic, got documents occasionally. Or it could be some official papers for Kay, the realtor. I glanced at the envelope which was addressed to 2Gyz with a return address of SIS Tech and an address in the UK. Oh, right. I’d momentarily forgotten about our new officemates, a couple of twenty-something techies who’d leased the vacant space. My brain clearly needed more caffeine.

I signed where the man in shorts indicated. He was already poised for the sprint back to his truck. I unlocked the door and flipped on the office lights then dropped the package on the reception desk.

I turned away and slammed into a bulky wall of a man who somehow had managed to come through the front door without my hearing him. Maybe we needed one of those bells that dings when someone comes in.

“Who are you?” I took a step back ready to defend myself if necessary. My best friend, Diana, and I had taken a self-defense class, a Valentine’s Day gift from Sam Gallanos, the man in my life. I felt like his choice of a gift was a pointed comment on the life I lead. Anyway, we’d learned a lot in class, and, even as big as this guy was, I knew I could take him.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” He also backed up. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“What do you want?” I was on a roll. Again, yes, I know it wasn’t a polite response and my mama would be appalled and all that, but in my defense I was a bit startled. And my mental tank was still low on caffeine.

“Sorry.” The man took another step back. “I had some car trouble out front, and I wondered if I could borrow your phone to call my auto club. Cell phone’s dead.”

Well, nothing nefarious about that. And to be perfectly honest, now that I’d gotten a good look at the guy, he sure as heck didn’t look like a mugger. Wrinkled khakis and a dark-blue shirt. Sandy-haired, broad-faced, and with a bit of a paunch. Maybe I’d overreacted. Just a little.

“The phone is right here.” I reached over the wide reception desk and placed the phone on the counter. “Go ahead and make your call.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am.” He held out a beefy hand. “I sure appreciate it.”

I shook his bear-sized paw.

“Are you the accountant, the psychic, or with the computer guys?” He noted the sign at the front door which detailed the businesses located in the building.

“I’m actually the pet therapist.” I pointed at the PAWS info.

“A pet therapist? I used to have a dog. Charlie. I loved that dog.” He smiled the wistful smile of all of us who’ve lost a pet.

Now I felt even worse that I’d been so rude.

I left him at the reception desk to make his phone call and unlocked the door to my office. I couldn’t hear his conversation, but he must have been successful in contacting his auto club because he poked his head around the corner and thanked me again.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled at him, feeling a little bad I’d immediately thought the worst.

“I’ll just wait out by my car. They said they’d been here in ten minutes.”

“Okay, I hope the rest of your day goes better.”

See, I guess my morning wasn’t so bad in comparison. I hadn’t had car trouble. Only coffee trouble. It’s all about perspective isn’t it?

Ah, yes, perspective.

I settled in and got down to work transferring my notes to the client files on my computer. To be honest, my concentration wasn’t worth two cents. The phone call from my ex nagged at me. I didn’t want Geoffrey in California. I didn’t want Geoffrey in my head, but there he was. Enough so that I kept having to reread the same sentence as I worked to update the files I needed to take care of before my afternoon appointments.

“Hello? Is anyone about?”

“In here.” I glanced up from my paperwork.

It was Cash, one of the partners in the tech company I mentioned earlier. His name was actually Graham Cash, but everyone calls him “Cash.” He was constantly rumpled, baby-faced handsome, and charmingly British.

The other partner was Jake, a blond surfer type and California native. I wasn’t sure how they’d met but the two had made millions, possibly billions, with a series of mobile apps. You know, those little programs that work on your phone. They’d been in the right place at the right time and had been riding that wave ever since. Or as my Grandma Tillie would’ve said, they’d been “ridin’ a gravy train with biscuit wheels.” In the part of Texas I’m from we’re more versed in gravy than surf.

Today Cash sported his typical billionaire-geek office attire: jeans, an expensive but wrinkled dress shirt, and a weathered, brown leather bomber jacket. Toria, his adorable Scottish Fold cat, was tucked under his arm.

“Morning, Caro. Toria’s going to help me out today. Aren’t you, luv?” He scratched the cat under the chin, and she rubbed her face against his.

Toria often accompanied the tech tycoon. A sturdy feline, as was common in the breed, the grey silky tabby was a little, um, more sturdy than most. I suspected a bit of spoiling.

Cash strolled in and plopped down in the chair by my desk. I reached over to give Toria a proper greeting. “Good morning, girlfriend, and how are you today?” She leaned into my hand in answer.

“You checked her over, right?” He scratched the cat’s soft, wide head. “No signs of problems.”

“Nothing.” A week ago, Cash had asked me to examine Toria for any signs of behavioral problems. Apparently, someone had reported she’d been aggressive, which not only did I find hard to believe but would also be highly unusual in the breed. “I’d recommend you have Dr. Darling give her a once-over to make sure she’s not having any health issues, but behavior-wise I didn’t find a thing.”

“See? No problem, m’lady.” He lifted her to eye level and looked into her green saucer-like eyes. “Falsely accused. I knew you were too well-mannered to misbehave like that.”

“Maybe she’s simply bored.” I smiled at the flicker of shock in his intelligent blue eyes. “Sometimes a normally passive cat will become a little forceful in their play if they have a lot of pent-up energy.”

“But what is one to do?” He stroked the cat’s back. “I should think you can’t take a cat for a proper walk.”

“Perhaps you and Jake can develop an app to entertain Toria.”

He stared off into space, apparently lost in the possibilities.

I waved a hand in front of his face. “Cash, I was kidding.”

“You have a cat, don’t you?” He continued to absently stroke Toria’s fur. “So we’d have some built-in beta testers.”

“I have two cats, Thelma and Louise.” I laughed. “Common house cats, though, not pure-bred royalty like Toria.”

“Old girl thinks she’s an aristo-cat anyway.” A wide grin creased his cheeks. “And a royal name to boot. After Queen Victoria.”

Cash stood, ignoring the cat fur that now covered his dark blue jeans. “An early patron of animal rights. One of the few for her time. She’s the royal who authorized adding that important prefix to our Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.”

“Interesting stuff.” I looked up at the two. “In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t know that.”

“See, I’m more than just another pretty face.” His bright-blue eyes twinkled. And then cradling Toria against him, he turned to go.

“Oh, Cash, by the way there’s a package for you on the front desk.”

“Thanks.” He disappeared into the reception area. “Come on, Toria. I’m positive at this point we’ve got hundreds of bloody emails to answer.”

An hour flew by as I updated files, organized notes, and made my list for the day. Yep, I’m one of those. Don’t judge. I love my daily list. I know it’s about control, but I don’t care. It’s a little coping thing, and it works for me.

I could hear Cash in the office next door. His music was some sort of Celtic instrumental. Usually he used headphones, but today he’d apparently opted for speakers. Didn’t bother me at all. It was lilting and relaxing. I’d made good progress on my paperwork.

“Caro, could Toria hang with you for a bit?”

I looked up from my computer. Cash was suddenly back at my door, and I realized the music had stopped.

“Jake just rang me and I’ve got to pop by the house for a few minutes. Twenty to thirty minutes tops.”

“Sure.” I took Toria from him. I had at least another thirty minutes of file updating work to do.

“Be back in a jiffy,” Cash called over his shoulder.

I’d put Toria on the chair beside me, but the alleged mean-girl tabby jumped up and parked herself on my desk. I gave her a cat toy to play with from the stash I kept in the office, but she was much more interested in sitting on my paperwork and nudging my hand as I tried to work on the computer.