The Familiar (15 page)

"If by 'rock the boat' you mean did I stand up to him when he broke into the shop? Did I stand up to him when he tried to manipulate me into selling up and leaving? Yes, I did those things." I look directly into each of their faces in turn, defiant, for just a moment before I say, "Anybody have anything to say about that?"

"Oh, we certainly do." Natalie raises a hand and laughs, "What is it you youngsters do? A high five? I want one of those. You do have spunk! Eunice always said you had no backbone at all. But I can see she read you wrong. You're more than welcome in this town. Do you know about our choir, dear?"

"I do now. Gilly told me your code word. And I know more about Granny Eunice than I ever wanted to, too."

"Yes, well, Eunice had her uses. She pushed back on the Andrews boys when needed, and it prevented either faction from taking total control and riding roughshod over the rest of us. She usually let others go about their business as long as no one got into hers."

"That explains a few things that I've been learning lately. I assume you needed the less shady things she stocked in the shop?"

"Oh yes, still do. And even a few things that ride along in the gray areas. Will you be keeping it open? Have you decided?"

"Yes, I have. I've even hired a new employee."

"Really? Someone from town?"

"His grandfather was, apparently. He drifted into the shop because he's been visiting the places his grandfather talked about when he was a kid. Cat's Magical Shop was one of them. He needs a job for a while, so what the heck, I hired him. Plus, you know, a generous helping of eye candy at the counter can't hurt, right?"

Wow. Those lies rolled off my tongue super easy. I'm not sure getting involved with all these secrets is such a good thing. I don't understand what Tom could have done that's so bad. I mean, it's not like he had a choice.

Natalie turns to her little band of grannies and beckons them to follow her. "Eye candy, you say? Come on, girls, I just remembered something I need to pick up at Cat's."

I should drop Tom a quick call and warn him that he's about to be the object of a bunch of elderly admiration, but I think better of it. I'm sure he would have known Natalie back in the day, and now he'll get his chance to deal with being recognized. I think he'll handle it fine. He's been doing the lying and secrets thing a lot longer than I have.

And besides, I've got a date with a wall full of east coast modern.

"New clothes?" I ask once I'm back at the shop, approving of the fit of Tom's new outfit. The shaggy mane prevents him looking too modern-boy, but I like the way the slim fit of the slacks accentuates his well-shaped shoulders which are now clad in a loose, white v-neck tee.

"Gillian dropped them off just after you left this morning. She says hi. Apparently, she still knows my size. Says this is what the 'young folks' are wearing these days and thinks I should try to fit in if I'm going to be in the public view. What do you think?"

I avoid telling him that I think I'd like to have him twirl for me so that I can see how the pants fit around the back. "Flattering. You look good." I nod polite approval. Inside, I applaud my own restraint.

"Good, then. I know Natalie approved, but she's not my preferred audience."

I set my packages on the counter and rest a hand on the top of the register Tom is standing behind. "How'd that go?"

"It was strange talking to her after all these years. I feel a little dirty about knowing the things I know about her because of my spying expeditions. And I'm not sure she bought my 'Hi, I'm Tom Sanders the Third, how can I help you?' routine. Kept saying how much I look like old granddad—said she knew whose grandson I was the minute she walked in the door," Tom laughed. "And then she actually flirted with me, the randy old thing. Same old Nat. She hasn't changed much."

"Do you think we should tell her what's in her skin cream someday?"

"Nah, she hasn't needed to know to this point. And, it works, right? She definitely looks younger than seventy-five."

"Wait a minute? She's seventy-five? I thought she was the same age as Gilly, maybe younger—early sixties or something."

"The cream works."

"I guess! Maybe we should make a double batch next month and I can try it out."

"Cassie, you'll be beautiful at any age. You don't need magic potions for that."

Huh.

Not acknowledging that one. Nope. No way.

"I need to get my packages upstairs and take care of a couple other things. I'll spell you in about an hour so you can get some lunch?"

"Sure. Assuming by 'spell' you mean 'take your place' rather than 'put you under an additional curse'?" Tom gives me a broad smile.

I giggle and give a broad smile back, then I walk upstairs and drop my day's shopping on the bed.

Beautiful? Did Tom just say he thinks I'm beautiful?

I'd rather Cat curl up to sleep next to Cassie than prowl the night away, but he has his needs, and he won't be denied without embarrassing slips into Cat behavior during the day. When I have my druthers, I don't want to leap the counter to bat a fly out of the air in front of a tired housewife who's looking for an nonprescription form of mother's little helper.

And when I'm being completely honest with myself, I'd like to sleep curled up next to Cassie in human form. Not necessarily in a sexual way, although I wouldn't throw her out of bed for eating crackers. It's a human contact thing: I've even woken up from dreams where Eunice is holding my hand or embracing me, telling me it's okay—that she'll be back soon, and I won't be alone any longer. When I come full awake and shed the sleepy part of me that lingers with her touch for its warmth, the very idea scares the bejeebers out of me.

I get almost no contact with other people now that Cassie hardly ever gives Cat any affection. She knows the kitten is really a man, so she stays away. I'm pretty sure she'd keep me from crawling into bed with her if she wasn't asleep when I come home after the hunt.

This whole train of thought is getting to be a downer. I put the day's takings in the bag for the bank, lock up shop, and head for the back. Cassie is reading a book, waiting for the lock bag so she can walk it across the street to the night depository. I hand it to her saying, "Someday I'm going to take the deposit to the bank myself."

"You will. I know you will. Gillian and I aren't going to give up on you. Ever. She's still talking to people on the down low, trying not to draw attention. She just hasn't figured anything out yet."

"I want to believe it'll happen. I've already got more than I thought I'd ever have again by just being human most of the time, so maybe I shouldn't get greedy. The good vibes the universe is sending could end any minute." I say it like it's not important, but, like Pinocchio, what I want more than anything is to be a real boy again. It's an ache. It's hunger.

I cook us a nice dinner—nothing fancy, just good grub. We could be a couple of roommates living normal lives, doing normal things. We watch TV for a while on opposite ends of the couch, but Cassie looks annoyed and sits up straight, then says she's going upstairs to read, when I move and my big, bare feet accidently brush over her small ones. She's kind to me, but she obviously can't stand to have me touch her. What I am, what I've done, who wouldn't be repulsed?

She turns me into Cat before she goes, and I take off outside to prowl the neighborhood for mice or even interesting shadows. But tonight, I've got a few stops planned that have nothing to do with Cat's needs.

First stop, the middle-striving-to-be-upper-class home of Kevin Andrews. Eunice often sent me prowling around Robert for tidbits she could keep up her sleeve in case she needed leverage, but she kept Kevin under control without my help. Now I'm keeping my eye out. I don't want any more surprises. And I don't want him anywhere near Cassie.

The windows at Kevin's house are cracked a few inches tonight to let the breeze in, and that's good for me. Not only can I see, but I'll be able to hear anyone inside. I stealthily jump to a sill and take a look. This window opens to his office. Nobody there.

I go along to the other side of the house and bingo! Kevin is sitting on the couch, shuffling through papers as he watches TV. A woman comes in with dinner on a tray. She's a cute black woman in her early thirties or so with a trim figure and a pleasant face.

After she drops off the tray, she says, "If there's nothing else tonight, Mr. Andrews, I'll be on my way home. I've got your meals all prepared and labeled with the warming instructions for this weekend." This must be the housekeeper he said he was buying headache powder for.

"Hold on for a moment, Keisha. You know I hate to have my dinner alone all the time. Have a drink with me before you go? I bought a bottle of that champagne you like."

"Sure. I don't mind. Is it in the kitchen? I'll get us each a glass."

Keisha returns from the kitchen with a champagne glass in each hand. The two of them exchange pleasantries—nothing that would indicate they are anything more than employer and employee. He doesn't slip anything into her glass. Maybe Eunice got it wrong.

"Any plans tonight?" Kevin asks.

"It's been a long week, sir. Especially with the late night tonight—but I'm not complaining. It's out of my work clothes and into a hot bath for me."

Kevin smiles. "Well, don't let me keep you from it. Here, I'll take that glass." He rises and takes the glass, then walks with her toward the back door. I jump down from the windows and haul butt to the back. "Have a good night," he calls as she walks down the back steps.

Then, only moments later, he comes out dressed in a ridiculous outfit—hooded coveralls of some kind with a mask and gloves attached. Could be what he was wearing the night of the break-in. He hustles down the street behind his housekeeper, catching up but staying a safe distance behind.

An elderly couple pass by Keisha. They nod and smile in that small town way. When they pass Kevin, they don't seem to even know he's there, although he scooted over to the far side of the sidewalk to avoid them. If they did, who wouldn't do a double-take? He looks like a bandit dressed to rob a liquor store. The coveralls even cover his shoes.

And then I realize—no one can see him but me. That's got to be why Cassie couldn't see him outside the storeroom.

Eunice's gift—the one she gave him just before she died: were the coveralls in that package? She did say her gift was "transparent.” Had she made him an invisibility suit that was charmed in a way that still allowed me to track him? He would never have known that if I hadn't attacked him when he broke in to the shop. What was she planning? And how was I a part of it?

I push the thoughts away. She's six feet under now. She isn't getting out of that one. The whole coven turned out to make sure she was planted. Whatever scheme she had in mind, I won't be a part of it now. But I do want to know what Kevin's up to.

When Keisha turns up the walk to a small cottage with a well-maintained garden, Kevin turns across the grass and goes into the backyard. He quietly closes and opens the small gate to gain entry. I slip underneath after he closes it, the bottom bar barely making an impression on Cat's tough skin as I squeeze through. Kevin goes directly to a back window. He seems to know exactly which one he wants. There's even a large, white plastic bucket hidden in the bushes next to the window which he moves and then steps up to stand on. He's been here before.

I'm too close to the ground to see what's going on inside, but a woman's shadow falls across the window, arms raised as though she's removing something over her head. Geez—the guy's got a magic invisibility suit and what he wants to do with it is spy on women while they bathe? And then I hear the zip. I no longer want to know what he's up to. I'm a small black blur as I head back to the gate.

When I was a young man, I might have chased tail all over town. I might have cheated on the wife who loved me despite my many flaws. But when Cassie changed her clothes with Cat in the room, I always made him close his eyes or look away. She thought she was alone. I had no business invading her privacy.

Men like Kevin make me ashamed to be the same species. The first thing I'm going to do when I have my humanity again? I'm going to take that bastard down.

On my way home, I stop at Kevin's homestead and make tracks across the hood of his car. Or, to be exact, across the air circulation grille. I wonder if it's difficult to get the smell of pee out of the vent system.

My next stop before the hunt is Gillian's. My angry feelings dissipate some as I get closer to her place. They're replaced by something softer and sadder.

In the small amount of time we've had to talk alone, she told me she's content. She said my disappearance left her devastated, but from that devastation came a good life. Maybe I don't want to believe her. Maybe I want to believe she has a shrine dedicated to my memory and sits in front of it every night, silent and wanting.

Forty-five years ago, I was enough of a horse's patoot to believe that. I didn't appreciate women the way they should be appreciated.