Romeow and Juliet (2 page)

“She’s had quite a lot to say about her competition,” John said. “I hope the fact that she’s been going round and round with your aunt doesn’t hurt her chances of getting a fair score.”

“I’m sure Francine won’t let her feud with my aunt interfere with what she thinks is best for the event.”

Francine was a nice woman, and I personally got along well with her, but, like Aunt Maggie, she tended toward public displays of opinion.

“How are things going with your bookstore project?” John asked.

“It seems to be moving along, although it’s still much too early to claim success. Still, Tara and I are hopeful that we can negotiate a deal. We’re going to tour the facility on Monday to try to better assess what needs to be done.”

My best friend Tara O’Brian and I have been trying to find funding to convert the old cannery, which has been empty since it closed down, into a coffee bar/bookstore/gathering spot that would not only provide a service to the community but also showcase the cats Maggie and I are trying to place in homes. Our idea was to convert the building into two spaces with an adjoining door. One side would house the coffee bar and bookstore. The second side would feature a lending library and reading room in which several hand-chosen cats would roam freely to interact with the general population. Madrona Island is a great place to live, but it’s a small community that lacks a movie theater, bowling alley, night club, or other source of entertainment. The island residents needed a place to gather and socialize, and the old cannery was just sitting empty, without a purpose.

“I expect it’s going to cost a small fortune to convert the space,” John commented.

“It will, but Tara has applied for a loan, and a lot of our friends have offered to help out with free labor. I know we have a long way to go, but I’m really starting to get excited about the idea.”

“Seems like a good project. Folks need a place to gather during the winter, when there isn’t much going on. Have you come up with a name?”

“Coffee Cat Books.”

John chuckled. “Clever. I like it. Have you addressed the issue of allowing the cats on the premises?”

“We have,” I said proudly. “According to the board of health, as long as the cats aren’t allowed in the area where food is prepared or sold, we don’t have a problem. We plan to divide the space into two separate rooms joined by a glass wall and a glass door to provide a feeling of continuity, so we’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought it all out.” John seemed impressed.

“The county has already approved our design and Danny drew up flyers that depict the concept we’re going for.”

“Can you e-mail me one?”

“Sure; let me get a pen.” I dug around in my bottomless backpack for a pen and a pad of paper. I tend to be disorganized and forgetful at times, so the very organized Tara suggested that I start carrying around a pad and pen on which to take notes. The problem is that I can never find the pad and pen when I need them.

“Ah, here it is.” I pulled the pad out of my purse. “Darn.”

“Is there a problem?” John asked.

“I just noticed the note reminding me to get the flyers Maggie wants to hand out at the island council meeting printed while I was on the mainland.”

“Flyers?” John asked.

“She put together some facts concerning Bill Powell’s condo project and its potential impact on the community. The council is pretty much split down the middle on the controversy, and Maggie is hoping to negotiate a compromise.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t going to be an easy thing to negotiate. Those who want to maintain a quiet way of life on the island are at direct odds with those who’re looking to modernize and bring in the tourist dollar. I know the condominium development is at the heart of the debate, but if you want my opinion, this controversy has been slowly creeping up on us for years.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I have to agree. It seems like the tensions among the island families really started back when the cannery closed and the ferry began to stop here. The ferry opened the door for folks from the mainland to visit Madrona Island for the weekend, which also opened the door for folks like Bill Powell to cash in by building condos folks can buy to use as vacation homes. I’ve tried to be impartial as I’ve listened to both sides of the debate, and to be honest, I’m not sure where I stand on the whole thing. I do know that no matter who wins, there’s going to be discord among friends.”

“Yup, I imagine there will be.”

“It frightens me to think that the island could be divided to the point where families who once shared Sunday supper will no longer even speak to one another. It wasn’t that long ago that the whole island would come out for community picnics in the park. When’s the last time the whole community came together like that?”

“I guess it’s been a while,” John admitted. “Still, I’ve been around a long time, and in that time I’ve discovered one thing to be true: small towns are like family. They bicker and gossip, and at times go as far as to declare all-out war among members, but when push comes to shove, they’ll always be there for you.”

I sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

John squeezed my shoulder in a show of support. He knew how much I longed for the easy sense of community the island once knew.

“I’d better prepare the vessel for docking,” John announced. “It looks like the passengers are starting to return to their cars. I doubt Mr. Bradford will come in this direction, but you might want to scrunch down a bit just in case he uses the back stairwell.”

I laughed. “Thanks, John. You’re a good friend. And let me know what you decide about the kitten.”

I reached into the cooler behind me and grabbed a grape soda for the ride home. I’d brought a six pack but never had taken the time to enjoy one of the sweet and fizzy beverages. I watched as the ferry pulled toward the dock.

I loved Madrona Island. I’d lived there my entire life. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but the past few years have seen more change than the hundred before that. My great-great-grandfather was one of the twelve founding fathers who settled on the island. He worked hard, established a fishing empire, and raised seven children. One by one the founding families had died off or moved, and now very few of the original settlers remained. As John and I had discussed, those looking to maintain the way of life they’d always known had no use for the ferry, the tourists it brought, or the development that had followed. Others argued that now that the cannery had closed and commercial fishing in the area was all but dead, there was a need for a new source of revenue. Increased development, they argued, would bring jobs that would allow those who desired to do so to stay on the island, where their families had lived for generations.

I can understand both sides of the conflict. Like many members of the founding families, I have no desire to see condominiums rising up along the shore, destroying the natural beauty and solitude of the island. On the other hand, without the inflow of cash that tourism brings, most families couldn’t afford to stay on the island and would be faced with moving altogether. It’s a complicated issue that won’t be decided overnight. I just hoped that while things were negotiated, the people I loved would be able to retain the friendships we’ve always known.

“Ms. Hart.”

I heard a deep voice from just behind my window. I screamed, turned around, and tossed my soda directly into the man’s smiling face.

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny. I had a million and one things to see to but decided that the most important thing I needed to do was to take my dog, Max, for his morning run along the beach. There’s something relaxing about running on the sand as the waves crash onto the shore and the thunder of the tide is the only sound that penetrates the rhythm of your own breath. It was a cool morning, so I’d bundled up in a heavy sweatshirt and long sweatpants before pulling a knitted cap over my long ponytail.

Max is a Border collie mix and my best friend in the world. I found him close to death after he’d been thrown from a boat when he was just a puppy. I’d nursed him back to health, and during the long hours I’d sat by his side and prayed that each breath wouldn’t be his last, we’d forged a bond that few people really understand.

Max and I spend as much time together as we can. He’s very well trained and often accompanies me when I go into town or make trips to the mainland, although since Maggie has been ill, I’ve been leaving him home when Maggie is going to be alone. Maggie’s a cat person and not usually all that interested in dogs, but I know that if something were to happen while I was away, Max would go for help if Maggie was unable to get to a phone.

After Max and I had run along the beach for several miles I cut up to the road and turned onto the main highway so I could circle through the business district of Pelican Bay. Madrona Island is made up of two distinct villages: Harthaven Bay to the north, where I grew up and most of the longtime families still live, and Pelican Bay to the south. The community of Pelican Bay—I don’t know why it’s named that; there have never been any pelicans on the island—is a new development that sprang up when the ferry began to provide service to the island. While Harthaven Bay is a functional village with residential neighborhoods, a school, and practical stores such as a market, a drugstore, and a hardware store, Pelican Bay is a touristy type village, with art galleries, restaurants, B and Bs, and cute mom-and-pop shops, designed to meet the needs of our visitors.

As I neared the harbor I turned down the first row of residences, which paralleled the oceanfront road where most of Pelican Bay’s businesses could be found.

“Good morning, Bella,” I called, greeting one of the self-labeled witches who owned Herbalities, an interesting shop that sells herbal remedies and offers fortune-telling services. I’m not convinced that either Bella or her partner, Tansy, are
actual
witches, but you’re unlikely to meet two nicer or more free-spirited women.

“Caitlin, how are you, dear?” Bella held a watering can and was providing moisture for a row of red vine roses that traveled over trellises at the front of her house.

“I’m good. Is Tansy doing better after her fall?”

Tansy had been hiking over the weekend when she’d stepped on some loose shell and tumbled down the side of the embankment.

“She’s doing much better; thank you for asking. She has a few cuts and bruises, but it doesn’t appear that she broke any bones. She’s inside, mixing up some herbs to use as a salve to put on her scrapes. Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“I’d love to, but Max is wet from his romp through the waves and I really should get back to Maggie. I like to be home in time to make her breakfast before she leaves for the Bait and Stitch.”

“Speaking of Maggie, I have some herbs for her to try.” Bella swiped at one of the tendrils of long hair that had escaped the knot she’d formed on the top of her head. “It seems odd that her flu has lasted as long as it has. I’m hoping that an herb packet for overall vitality will put a spring back into her step.”

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. If you want to fetch it I’ll take it to her so she can start on the herbs today. Max and I will just wait here since we’re both wet and sandy,” I offered.

“Nonsense.” Bella bent down and petted Max behind the ears. “A little sand and seawater never hurt anyone. Come in and have one of the muffins Tansy made for you this morning. You can take some to Maggie as well.”

“Tansy made me muffins?”

“Boysenberry, your favorite.”

“But I never told Tansy I planned to stop by. In fact, I hadn’t planned to stop by at all. I was just running down the street and saw you in the yard.”

Bella just smiled as she picked up her watering can and started back to the house. “Did the cat adoption go well?”

“Really well,” I said as Max and I followed Bella up the walkway toward the cute little house she and Tansy shared. The house reminded me of a Cape Cod style with its slanted roof and dormer windows. The cottage itself was white with black shutters and a large covered porch overlooked the sea in the distance. “I managed to place all the cats I brought with me, including Hercules.”

Hercules was a large stripped tabby Bella had found and brought to Harthaven over the winter.

“I think he’s going to be very happy,” I added. “The woman who adopted him had a wide lap for sitting and a pocket full of salmon treats all ready to dish out. She’s retired and lives alone, so I predict the two will be a great pair.”

“I have no doubt that Hercules will have a very good life with Emma.”

I frowned. I’d never mentioned the woman’s name. It sort of freaked me out when Bella and Tansy did things like that. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but somehow chatting with someone who knew more about your life than you did was a bit unnerving.

“Go ahead and have a seat while I put on some tea,” Bella offered. I sat down at the large table I knew had been formed from a piece of a ship’s hull. Like most of the rooms in the home, the kitchen was accented with items from the island and the surrounding sea.

“Have you painted since the last time I was here?” I asked. The interior of the home was bright with an abundance of natural light from the large windows that had been added to the rear of the house, but the walls seemed a lighter shade of the yellow than I remembered.

“Tansy felt we needed a facelift. She said she sensed a dark aura after those tourists vandalized the place a few months ago. I’m not sure how well fresh paint can deal with the negative energy left behind by such an experience, but I like the color.”

I smiled. “I like it as well.”

Bella set a cup of tea and a freshly made muffin in front of me.

“Go ahead and get started,” she instructed. “I’ll just run upstairs and get Tansy.”

“No need to bother her—” I began.

“Nonsense. It will brighten her day to visit with you and Max.”

Max had lain down on the floor while I nibbled on my muffin. At first glance Bella and Tansy’s place looked like any other house. There were cast-iron pots hanging from a rack, a bouquet of fresh flowers graced the table, a basket of fresh fruit sat on the tile counter, bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, and healthy green potted plants had been set on several surfaces. Upon closer examination, however, visitors realized that the plants growing in the enclosed sunporch to the rear of the house were actually herbs, and the knickknacks placed around the room were talismans strategically placed for specific purposes.

“Good morning, Agatha,” I greeted the pure black cat Maggie had placed with Bella and Tansy over a year ago. She purred and wrapped herself around my legs as we both waited for Bella to reappear.

There was something serene about sitting in Bella and Tansy’s kitchen. I’m not sure I can describe the feeling exactly, but the room seemed to embrace you with its warmth. It most likely had to do with the sweet-smelling herbs, softly ringing wind chimes, and abundance of natural light that filtered in at just the right angle.

“Cait, I’m so glad you stopped by.” Tansy, dressed in a long peasant skirt and a white blouse, with her feet bare, swept into the room with such grace that you’d never know she’d taken a fall. “I made you some of your favorite muffins.”

“They’re delicious, but how did you know I’d stop by?” I asked the petite and fair-skinned woman with jet-black hair that hung to her waist. “Even I didn’t know I was going to until I did.”

“I had a hunch.”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well after your fall,” I offered.

“Right as rain.” Tansy handed me a paper bag of muffins that she must have already packed before I arrived. “Be sure that Maggie takes the herbs Bella went to fetch and eats one of these muffins before she heads out for the day.”

“Okay, I’ll give them to her,” I promised as tall and slim, blond-haired and blue-eyed Bella handed me the packet of herbs.

“Now finish up your tea,” Tansy instructed. “As much as I’d like to sit and chat, you really should get going. We wouldn’t want to keep Romeo waiting.”

“Romeo?”

Tansy smiled but didn’t elaborate.

I stood up and gathered my things. I should know by now that Tansy never really told you anything but preferred to hint at things that for some reason only she knew.

“Thank you for the muffins and the herbs.” I picked up the bags and motioned for Max to join me.

I said my good-byes to Bella, who had wandered back outside to finish the watering while I was speaking to Tansy, and then continued down the road toward the land where my cabin resided at Whale Watch Point. Maggie had inherited the estate from her mother, who inherited it from her grandfather. It really was a beautiful piece of property, located on the edge of a peninsula that looked toward Canada to the north. The peninsula was originally developed by three of the families that settled on the island more than a hundred years before.

Maggie’s property was in the center third of the peninsula. Based on the shape of the peninsula and the dense forest covering most of the land mass, you can stand almost anywhere and not see the structures on the other two properties. Maggie’s house was set back on the center of the huge lot, while my cabin sat within a few feet of the water to the left. The building that housed the cats was all the way to the right, bordering the property owned by Francine Rivers.

As I mentioned before, the fact that Maggie had built the cat sanctuary so close to Francine and her expensive show cat had caused a rift between two women who had grown up as best friends.

As Max and I turned from the main road onto the narrow lane that serviced the homes on the peninsula, I noticed a large gray cat trotting along behind us. I stopped and turned to consider the long-haired animal. “Romeo?” I said.

The cat just looked at me, neither running away nor coming closer. I realized this was who Tansy had referred to, so I turned and continued down the lane. Once I’d reached Maggie’s property Romeo sprinted the remaining distance toward my front deck, where he leaped into the swing and seemed to settle in for a nap.

Max trotted over and tried to greet our guest with a sniff, but Romeo just hissed. I opened the front door of my cabin and invited him inside, but he lazily opened one eye, then began to purr as he drifted off to kitty dreamland.

“I think we might have a new roommate,” I told Max as I filled his food and water dishes and put coffee on to perk.

Max just wagged his tail as I left him to his breakfast. I wandered into my small bathroom to shower and prepare for the day. The cabin Max and I share is little more than a studio. There’s a large loft upstairs, which I use as a bedroom. It has an A-frame shape so that the center of the room has a higher ceiling than either side. There’s plenty of room for a queen-size bed, a small closet, a dresser, a desk, and a chair. The bed is situated so that I can wake up every morning to the sight of the ocean just outside my window. Although the room is small, I’ve built bookshelves into every wall except the one with the window. I love the feeling of waking up to so many possibilities.

Downstairs there’s a small but functional kitchen that’s open to a seating area that features two large, overstuffed sofas arranged in front of a small brick fireplace so that the view of the ocean is unobstructed. There’s a dining table and chairs in front of the window that overlooks the green forest to the back of the property.

After showering and dressing I made a couple of eggs and some toast, then went out front to check on Romeo. When I opened the door he looked up, jumped down from the swing, and trotted inside. I knew I should take him to the cat sanctuary, but somehow I realized that, for the time being at least, Romeo and I were meant to spend some quality time together.

“Stay off the dining table and the kitchen counters and we’ll get along fine,” I promised the huge tomcat.

Romeo simply wound a figure 8 through my legs.

“I’m not sure how long you’ll be staying with Max and me, but we welcome you and hope your stay is pleasant. The resident cats are allowed out onto the property during the day when Aunt Maggie and I are home to keep an eye on things, but there are two rules you must obey: Don’t leave the property and please, please stay away from the white Persian next door.”

Romeo glanced up and looked at me as if he understood. I certainly hoped he did. Maggie and I take our guardianship of the felines on the island very seriously. It’s not only unwise for them to venture from the estate but dangerous as well. When Mayor Bradley lost several expensive koi from his pond to the feral cats that populate the island, he railroaded the island council into passing a law making it legal to round up cats that wandered onto your property and destroy them, or drop them off at the kill shelter on the mainland. Unfortunately, there were some who’d decided to make a sport out of these cat hunts. That was when Maggie decided to open the Harthaven Cat Sanctuary, offering no-questions-asked housing for any and all cats that were dropped off. While most residents of the island were glad for a no-kill solution to the wild cat population that had spiraled out of control, there were a few old geezers who took unusual joy in hunting the cats that had the misfortune of wandering onto their property.