The Nine Lives of Christmas (8 page)

“Bird feet!” she wailed, pointing at the bed.

Zach looked confused. “What?”

“Bird feet, bird feet, BIRD FEET!” She started running toward the door, probably with murder in her heart.

Ambrose didn’t wait to see what happened next. He dashed out of the room and down the stairs.

And, oh no! Here came the cougar thumping along right behind him, still howling, feathers flying from the scanty bit of black cloth she was wearing. It was like being chased by that huge black dog all over again. Driven by terror, Ambrose did what any good cat in need of safety would do. He scaled the nearest tree.

What had he been thinking, climbing a Christmas tree! Did he have a death wish? Christmas trees were death traps. It had been a sizzling jolt from something on a Christmas tree that cost him his first life. Oh, not good. Not good at all. The thing tottered and swayed, its decorations jingling. He couldn’t stay here.

He took what humans called a leap of faith, launching himself from the dangerous tree before it could fall. The tree went one way and Ambrose sailed another. He landed right on the cougar, who let out a screech and sent him flying again even as the tree toppled with a crunch of ornaments.

Ambrose managed to land on his feet and bolted for the safety of the couch. Even as he squeezed under it the cougar was screaming all kinds of words he knew weren’t nice. And Zach was next to her now, trying to make himself heard over the racket she was making.

“Either that cat goes or I go,” she roared, pointing to where Ambrose cowered under the couch.

“Babe, just calm down, okay? Did he get you with his claws?”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What do you mean calm down! Your damn cat just tried to attack me. If I hadn’t reacted so fast I’d be covered in scratches!”

“I think you’re just shaken up. Let’s just calm down and—”

“Never mind calming down,” she roared. “I want an answer.”

Ambrose held his breath.

“Blair, I can’t just turn the little guy out.”

She pointed a finger at him. “You
are
choosing the cat over me! Zachary Stone, you are insane. And I must have been insane to get involved with you. You’re nothing but a selfish, immature—”

“Now, wait a minute,” Zach protested. “I get that you’re upset but there’s no need to start throwing around insults.”

“I am not staying here another second with you and that … beast!” She opened a door to the closet where Zach kept coats and yanked hers out. “You two deserve each other,” she snarled as she wrapped it around herself.

“If that’s the way you want it, fine,” Zach snapped. “I’ll bring your tree back this afternoon.”

Ambrose blinked as she told Zach to put the tree in a part of his anatomy where Ambrose knew it surely wouldn’t fit.

“Keep the tree and the damned cat. I hope you’ll be very happy together,” she snapped. She grabbed some keys from the hall table and then exited, slamming the door after herself.

Zach glared at the door as if Blair Baby were still standing there. Then he muttered a very bad word and marched into the living room and grabbed the tree. He hauled it to the front door, sending little blue balls bouncing every which way.

Ambrose was strongly tempted to chase one as it bobbled past, but considering Zach’s mood, decided it was wiser to remain under the couch.

Zach opened the door and hurled the tree out into the cold, then slammed the door shut. “I never wanted a friggin’ tree anyway,” he growled.

Well, well. It looked like Ambrose had succeeded in saving Zach. This was an even better gift than the bird feet.

He watched as Zach cleaned up after the cougar. The first thing Zach did was gather the stray ornaments into a plastic bag. Then the bag followed the tree out the front door. Next he tossed Ambrose’s present in the can in the eating room where humans threw food that was still perfectly good. If Ambrose had the muscles for it he would have frowned. What ingratitude! Finally, Blair Baby’s clothes went into another plastic bag. Zach put them into the shiny black car along with the ruined tree and the ornaments. Then he drove off. Where he took everything Ambrose had no idea, but the cougar didn’t return and that was all Ambrose cared about.

Except Zach seemed restless. When he returned home he banged things with his hammer and growled bad words. At night he flipped from program to program on the TV, always changing channels just when Ambrose was getting interested. Did he miss the cougar?

“Nah,” he said as he talked on his cell phone to his friend Ray. “It’s just as well. Things were getting, I don’t know, weird. It was only a matter of time before she left for good anyway. I should probably keep away from women.”

His friend laughed so hard Ambrose could hear it all the way up where he sat on the back of the couch, watching Zach pace while he talked.

“No, I mean it,” said Zach. “I’m fine on my own.”

Fine? He wasn’t acting like it. Ambrose knew what was wrong with Zach. He knew the symptoms well. He’d experienced them himself when he was an alley cat. He understood the crazy, driving itch that made a guy restless, made him want to sit on a fence and yowl, made him fight anything and anyone to get to a female cat. Zach was getting the itch. People, like cats, needed to connect with another living being. In fact, people needed that a lot more than cats. Most of them didn’t seem designed to function well alone. Zach could say all he wanted to the contrary, but he was no exception. He needed a female in his life.

Not the cougar, obviously. But Merilee would be perfect, for Zach (and Ambrose). If he could bring Merilee and Zach together it would more than pay them back for their kindness to him in past lives. It would also guarantee all three of them a wonderful life now. Yes, that was the answer, which meant Ambrose needed to get Zach back to the Pet Palace.

But how? He hunkered down to think.

SIX

How to get two humans together? It wasn’t as if Ambrose could sit Zach down for a talk, tell him, “Look, pal, you need this female. She’d be good to you.” And he couldn’t exactly hop in a car and drive over to Pet Palace, wherever that was, and fetch Merilee back home to Zach.

Ambrose spent the time Zach was away at work giving this problem some serious thought (in between naps, of course). He finally concluded some naughty kitty behavior might send Zach running to her for advice. Then it would just be a simple matter of letting nature take its course. After careful assessment of the situation he decided that clawing a piece of furniture was his best bet. Anyway, he needed to sharpen his claws and Zach hadn’t provided him with any other tool. Well, other than the upstairs carpet, but it would take too long for Zach to discover that spot.

Ambrose chose an old chair Zach kept on one side of the fireplace. He knew better than to attack the leather couch.

It was morning, and Zach was on the couch, putting on what he called his running shoes when Ambrose made his move. He stood on his hind legs and went at it with both claws. Aaah, that felt good.

“Hey!”

The sharpness in Zach’s voice about startled the fur off Ambrose and he sprang away from the chair and ran to the far end of the room.

“Yeah, you’d better cut it out,” growled Zach. “That was Gram’s and it’s lucky for you I hadn’t gotten around to getting it re-covered.” He bent over to assess the damage and frowned.

Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I barely got started
.

He straightened and pointed a finger to where Ambrose crouched, peeking around the corner of the couch. “Touch my leather couch and you’re dead.”

Well, duh
.

*   *   *

Zach had many things to consider as he did his morning run, like what to work on next now that the kitchen was done, when would be the right time to put the house on the market, and … what he’d been smoking when he decided to exchange a hot woman for a mangy orange cat.

Saying good-bye to Blair had been a good thing, he reminded himself. The woman was hot, all right, but hot things burned. Anyway, he couldn’t really afford her. He was better off on his own.

But the cat? Zach shook his head as he jogged across Spruce on his way back to Lavender Lane where his Victorian sat, a plain cousin in the midst of houses dressed to the nines for the holidays. Why
had
he taken in the cat? More to the point, why was he keeping him? He hadn’t intended to, that was for sure. But somehow, in spite of this morning’s assault on his grandmother’s chair, Zach liked having the little guy around. He was good company.

Good company. There was the bottom line. Zach liked the company. Something about living in that Victorian made him aware of the downside of his choice to live alone. Oh, he had people in his life: his fellow firefighters, his pals, the Steps. But they swirled around him, much like twigs and leaves moving down a river past a stone stuck deep in the riverbed. Old Tom was different. He had settled in and exercised squatter’s rights, and that was okay by Zach. Blair had known instinctively what he was just realizing. He had no intention of getting rid of the cat.

Which meant they had to find some way for Tom to get his kicks other than by scratching the furniture. It looked as though Zach was going to have to make another trip to Pet Palace. He smiled and picked up his pace.

Later that morning he drove through downtown Angel Falls to the strip mall at the edge of town that housed Pet Palace. Downtown was already buzzing with residents ducking into the Bon Croissant for their morning latte and a slice of eggnog cake or stopping by the bank to make a deposit. Lampposts were adorned with fat red ribbons and cedar swags, proof that Christmas was right around the corner. A Mini Cooper buried under a giant fir tree drove past him. Funny. No matter how dysfunctional their families, people always marched into this time of year determined to enjoy the holidays.

Compared to the downtown area the strip mall looked like a dinner guest who never got the message that everyone was dressing up. The warehouse stores sat side by side, big plain boxes, adorned only by their big name signs. No need for fancy dress out here. People came for the low prices.

Zach parked in the gigantic parking lot and wandered into the store. He was greeted by Christmas music: dogs barking to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” He looked over toward the checkout stands. No sign of Merilee there. Maybe she wasn’t at work today.

Not that he’d come to see Merilee, he told himself. He’d come looking for a scratching post. But she’d be able to help him. Where was she? He wandered around the store, all the while convincing himself he couldn’t possibly get a scratching post without her expert advice.

He finally found her in the pet food aisle, setting out cans of cat food. He offered a friendly hello and startled her, making her drop a can. It rolled his direction and he snagged it and handed it back.

“How’s your cat doing?” she asked as she put the can on the shelf.

She was concentrating on that can like it would jump off the minute she turned her back and Zach suddenly realized he was standing smack-dab in the middle of an awkward situation. Last time he’d seen Merilee he’d been with Blair.

How to proceed? He cleared his throat. “Well, I think he’s upset.”

That got her attention. “Oh, no. Why?”

He shrugged. “We’ve had a lot of changes lately. My girlfriend and I broke up.”

Merilee became suddenly busy pulling cans out of the cardboard carton at her feet. “Oh?”

“I think Tom’s acting out.” Did cats act out? Who knew? It sounded good, anyway.

She set a couple more cans carefully on the shelf and then turned to look at Zach. “What’s he doing?”

“Scratching the furniture.”

“Hmmm. Does he have a scratching post?”

“No. I thought maybe you could help me pick one out.”

“I know the perfect one,” she said with a decisive nod, and started down the aisle, leaving Zach to fall in step beside her. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Well, I don’t think we were much of a match. She didn’t like my cat.”

“A person’s attitude toward animals says a lot about them,” Merilee commented and left it at that.

“I guess you’ve got a ton of pets,” said Zach. She seemed like someone who would be good with animals. And kids. Not that Zach needed to know.

Her mouth turned down at the corners and she shook her head. “No pets allowed where I live.”

She had a great mouth.
Never mind her mouth!
“Where do you live?” he asked. It would have been rude not to.

“The Angel Arms Apartments. I’m afraid I’m breaking the rules, though.”

Funny. Merilee didn’t look like a rule breaker. But then Blair hadn’t looked like a cat hater. Sometimes people weren’t what they seemed.

“I rescued a kitty and I haven’t been able to find a home for her. I just couldn’t take her to the shelter,” Merliee added with a little shrug.

“I know the feeling,” said Zach. Speaking of feelings, one was stealing over him that wasn’t safe, so he shoved it away. They were in front of a vast array of scratching posts now. “Which one of these do I want?”

She surprised him by reaching for a long, thin, cardboard box. “This is the best. Just flip the lid and you’re good to go.”

She handed it to him and he stared at it. “It’s cardboard.”

She nodded. “Embedded with catnip. You’ll have to replace it every so often, but believe me it’s well worth the price. Your cat will never scratch the furniture again.”

“Sold,” Zach decided. And then there didn’t seem to be anything left to say, at least about cats. So he thanked her and left. But as he walked out the door he was accompanied by the nagging thought that he hadn’t come away with everything he needed.

He was halfway to his car when he saw Blair approaching from the other direction. She was wearing her favorite long, fur-trimmed coat and black boots with heels that made her legs look a million miles long. There was a time when he would have looked at her and thought,
sexy.
Now he just thought,
scary.

She’d seen him, too. He could tell from the way she was bristling, with every step an angry fashion model stomp that sent the slush underfoot spraying in all directions.