Felines and Footprints Page 4

  “What?” Lauren stared at their friend.

  “I just saw her and Mrs. Snuggle strolling down the street by themselves.”

  “Huh?” Zoe’s eyes widened.

  “Annie wouldn’t do that.” Although, there was a cat flap in the back door that Annie sometimes used. “We’d better go after them.” She dashed around the counter.

  “I’m coming with you.” Zoe was by her side.

  “Who’s going to look after things?” Lauren cast a panicked look at the tables, although thoughts of her fur baby were uppermost in her mind – only a few tables were occupied, and everyone had received their order.

  “I can do it.” Martha’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to be a barista.” There was a jokey quality to her tone.

  “Ed!” Lauren started toward the swinging kitchen doors.

  “What’s up?” He dusted his floury hands together.

  She quickly explained the situation.

  “Go.” He shooed her away. “I’ll take over and explain what happened so they don’t complain my cappuccinos aren’t as good as yours or Zoe’s.”

  “Thanks,” she replied gratefully.

  “See you, Martha.” Zoe zipped out of the café, Lauren on her heels.

  “I hope we can catch up to them,” Lauren fretted, jogging down the street.

  “Maybe Annie thought she could cheer up Mrs. Snuggle by taking her for a walk.” Zoe puffed beside her.

  “I think we need to go to the gym or something,” Lauren huffed. Her fitness – or lack of it – wasn’t good. But she could think about that later. Her heart raced at the thought of Annie – or Mrs. Snuggle – being in danger. Anything could happen to them – being hit by a car, catnapped by an opportunist, or—

  “There they are!” Zoe pointed to the feline duo ahead of them. Mrs. Snuggle was in the lead, Annie directly behind her, as if she were guarding her charge.

  “Annie!” Lauren sped up.

  “Brrt!” She turned around, looking pleased to see her human.

  Mrs. Snuggle ignored them, continuing to plod along the sidewalk, oblivious to the curious stares of passersby.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Mrs. Snuggle,” Zoe promised.

  “What’s going on?” Lauren bent down and stroked her fur baby, relief flooding through her. Annie was okay.

  “Brrt,” Annie replied, flicking a glance toward the trudging figure of Mrs. Snuggle, Zoe walking beside her. “Brrt!”

  Lauren gathered her fur baby in her arms, relishing the weight and feel of her. “I’m so glad you’re okay – both of you.” She pressed a kiss on Annie’s head.

  Glancing around the street, she realized this was the way to the church – and the parsonage.

  “Is Mrs. Snuggle trying to go home? To Father Mike?”

  “Brrt!” Yes!

  “And you were making sure nothing would happen to her?”

  “Brrt!” Yes!

  “You are such a sweetheart.” Lauren’s heart filled with love as she cuddled Annie. “Okay, let’s help Mrs. Snuggle.”

  “Brrp.” Good.

  They followed Zoe and Mrs. Snuggle to the church, waving to their friends and regular customers who smiled and pointed at them.

  When they reached the church grounds, Mrs. Snuggle headed straight to the parsonage. She scratched at the front door and wailed.

  “I can’t believe she found her way here from the cottage,” Zoe marveled.

  “Maybe she’s looking for Father Mike,” Lauren suggested, “and thinks he’s at home.”

  Mrs. Snuggle wailed again, stretching up against the door and raking her claws downwards.

  “Oh dear.” Zoe stared at the noticeable scratch marks. Her eyes widened. “The door’s ajar.”

  “What?” Lauren tentatively pushed the door. It swung inward.

  “Did I forget to lock it yesterday?” Zoe bit her lip. “Sorry, Father Mike.”

  Mrs. Snuggle galloped inside. “MEOW!” she bellowed, as if expecting an answer.

  “Father Mike’s not here,” Lauren explained, still carrying Annie.

  “He’s in Florida until the weekend,” Zoe added. “He asked us to look after you. At the cottage, not here.”

  Mrs. Snuggle ignored them, running from room to room. Lauren guessed the Persian expected Father Mike to materialize any second.

  Lauren heard a noise. What was it?

  She nudged Zoe with her elbow.

  Annie’s ears flickered.

  “Did you hear it too?” she murmured to the silver-gray tabby.

  “Brrt,” Annie replied softly. She wriggled, wanting to get down.

  “What?” Zoe asked.

  Lauren lowered Annie to the ground, then froze.

  Clatter.

  “I heard that.” Zoe’s eyes rounded, then she relaxed. “It must be Mrs. Snuggle.”

  “Really?” Lauren told herself not to panic.

  A muffled oath sounded from the depths of the house.

  “Okay, that was not Mrs. Snuggle.” Zoe glanced around. “Does Father Mike have a baseball bat handy? I hope it’s not a burglar.”

  “MEOW!!”

  Lauren thought the whole neighborhood heard that.

  “Let’s go!” Zoe charged down the hall.

  “No, arggh! Stop!” A male voice cried.

  Annie scampered down the hall after Zoe. Lauren followed, her pulse speeding up.

  “MEOW!”

  “Good kitty,” the male voice sounded desperate. “No, don’t – arrgh!”

  Lauren stopped in the doorway of the study.

  Gavin, the supply priest they’d met yesterday, stood next to a desk, fear in his eyes as Mrs. Snuggle attacked his ankles.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” He looked up in relief. “You’ve arrived just in time. This cat is attacking me!” He tried to back away from the feline but the wooden desk was against his legs.

  “That’s Mrs. Snuggle,” Zoe informed him.

  “You’re in her home,” Lauren added, relieved they weren’t dealing with a burglar – or worse.

  “Brrt!” That’s right! Annie frowned at the priest.

  “We know what Mrs. Snuggle is doing here, but what are you doing here?” Lauren continued.

  “Yeah!”

  “Just – OUCH! – looking after the collection money. Do you mind calling her off?” He looked down at Mrs. Snuggle in desperation.

  “Brrt!” Annie called. “Brrt.”

  “Meow.” Mrs. Snuggle paused in her mauling to answer. “Meow.” She sounded just as grumpy as before.

  “Brrt,” Annie replied.

  “Mrrbppp.” It sounded like the cat version of a raspberry. She reluctantly backed away from Gavin.

  “Thanks.” He lifted one foot up, and then the other. “I’m bleeding!”

  “Father Mike probably has first aid equipment in the bathroom,” Lauren said, watching Mrs. Snuggle slowly join Annie.

  “You do have some nasty marks on your ankles,” Zoe observed.

  “That cat is a killer,” Gavin told them, wincing as he touched his ankles. “Does Father Mike know what she’s really like?”

  “She thought you were an intruder.” Lauren felt compelled to defend the feline. “She hasn’t met you before, has she?”

  “No, thank goodness.” He eyed Mrs. Snuggle warily. “I thought you two were looking after her, anyway.”

  “We are,” Zoe replied. “She wanted to visit her house.”

  “That’s a weird way of looking after a cat.” He shrugged.

  “So why are you here?” Lauren probed.

  “Yeah, how did you find the key to get in?” Zoe demanded. “You didn’t break in, did you?”

  “What?” He looked shocked. “No, of course not. I’m a priest. I wouldn’t do something like that. Father Mike told me before he left that he had a spare key, but he’d asked you to meet me here yesterday, so I guessed it must be hidden outside somewhere. I rooted around and found it.” His voice held a tiny note of triumph.

 
“So that’s why the front door was unlocked just now. And here I thought that I must have forgotten to lock it yesterday.” Zoe sounded relieved.

  “But what are you doing here?” Lauren asked. “You said something about a collection?”

  “Yes, the church collection. Father Mike asked me to deposit it into the church bank account.”

  “Did he?” Zoe glanced at Lauren.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I was just looking for it, when that attack cat started on me.”

  “Mrs. Snuggle must have felt threatened, finding a stranger in her home,” Zoe told him.

  “Didn’t Father Mike tell you where the collection was?” Lauren stared at him.

  “I’m sure he did.” Gavin tapped his head lightly. “But there was a lot of information to take in. I delivered the food baskets yesterday and only got lost once, plus, I have my own parish as well to look after. I was sure Father Mike said he’d left the money in his study, but I couldn’t remember quite where it was.”

  “We’ll help you look,” Lauren suggested.

  “Yeah.” Zoe grabbed Lauren’s wrist and peeked at her watch. “And then we have to get back to work. We’ve got a café to run.”

  “Brrt!”

  After a few minutes of searching, they found a small plastic bag full of money in one of the desk drawers. The coins jingled when Zoe lifted it.

  “Is this it?” she asked.

  “It looks like it.” Lauren peered through the transparent plastic – lots of bills, mostly low denominations, and some coins.

  “It must be.” Gavin took the bag from Zoe.

  “Oh, there was a note under it.” Zoe brandished it. “Yeah, Father Mike says this is the church collection money and can you please deposit it for him. He’s got the bank details here for you.”

  “Thanks.” Gavin put the note into his trousers’ pocket. “Well, I’d better go straight to the bank with this.”

  “Yes,” Lauren agreed.

  “We’ll lock up,” Zoe informed him, “if you give us the spare key.”

  “Oh. Right.” He dug the metal key out of his pocket and handed it to her. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  They followed him out through the front door.

  “Come on, Mrs. Snuggle.” Lauren beckoned the cat. “Father Mike’s not here.”

  “No, but his fill-in was.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Mrs. Snuggle dragged her paws as the four of them walked home.

  “I think it’s very trusting of Father Mike to let Gavin handle the church collection after what happened to the funds a while ago,” Zoe began.

  “I know.” Lauren kept an eye on the two felines, who strolled ahead of them – well, Annie strolled, and Mrs. Snuggle seemed to grudge each step she took, as if she didn’t quite believe that Father Mike wasn’t at the parsonage.

  “But Father Mike is so good – it would just be like him to expect another person to do the right thing.”

  “Especially a fellow priest,” Lauren added. “If he can’t put his faith in Gavin, who can he trust?”

  “Us!”

  When they arrived back at the cottage, Lauren settled the two cats back on the sofa.

  “I’m sorry Father Mike wasn’t at the parsonage,” she told Mrs. Snuggle.

  “He’ll be home in a few days,” Zoe said.

  “Annie is doing a good job looking after you, isn’t she?”

  A low grumble that Lauren took for yes.

  “Do you want to stay with Mrs. Snuggle or come to the café?” Lauren asked her fur baby.

  “Brrt!” Café! She peered at her charge, as if checking it was okay.

  Another mumble from Mrs. Snuggle, who stared fixedly at the TV.

  “I’ll give you lunch before we go.” Lauren quickly spooned some beefy goo into the Persian’s bowl. “Annie, do you want lunch now or later?”

  “Brrt!” Now!

  Annie ate her chicken in gravy, while Mrs. Snuggle stared at her full bowl without stirring from the sofa.

  “Maybe you’ll eat it later,” Lauren hoped her tone was encouraging. “We’ll be home late afternoon, when we close the café.”

  “Please don’t be sad, Mrs. Snuggle.” Zoe sounded a little sad herself.

  Mrs. Snuggle’s ears flickered, but her gaze remained fixed on the TV, which showed bees buzzing around lavender.

  “We’d better get back.” Lauren checked her watch. “Ed might be slammed during the lunch rush.”

  Zoe zoomed to the kitchen and through the private hallway to the café. Lauren and Annie followed. “Oh, it’s only half full. Not too bad,” she pronounced.

  Ed looked a little flustered as he steamed milk.

  “Thank you,” Lauren said gratefully. “We’ll fill you in later.”

  “Are the cats okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

  “Yep, they’re fine. Wait until we tell you what Mrs. Snuggle did!”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Ed pushed open the swinging doors.

  Lauren glanced at the orders and resumed the latte making, while Zoe plated the baked goods and paninis. After a few minutes of concentrated effort, all the orders were cleared.

  “Phew!” Zoe flopped onto a stool.

  “I hope Ed can take a break too,” Lauren said.

  “Ooh, I’ll go and tell him what happened.” Zoe zipped into the kitchen.

  “Ask him if he wants a latte or a cupcake,” Lauren called after her. It was the least she could do to thank Ed for taking over.

  Lauren and Zoe took turns with a quick lunch break each when there was a lull. She’d plied Ed with a large latte and two lemon meringues, which he’d seemed to appreciate.

  Annie enjoyed herself, escorting customers to tables, and spending time with her favorites.

  Hans, one of their regulars, came in after the lunch rush.

  “Hi, Hans!” Zoe greeted him.

  “Brrt!” Annie trotted up to him. The dapper sixtyish German stood at the Please Wait to be Seated sign.

  “Hello, Liebchen.” His faded blue eyes twinkled down at her.

  “Brrt!” Hello!

  “Where shall I sit today, hmm?” he asked her.

  “Brrt.” Over here. Annie slowly led him to a table near the counter.

  “What can we get you?” Lauren approached the two of them. Annie sat at the table, opposite Hans.

  “I have heard of your new lemon meringues.” He glanced hopefully toward the counter. “Do you have any left?”

  “Yes.” Lauren smiled. Hans was one of their favorite people.

  “You’re going to love it.” Zoe zipped over to them. “They’re amazing!”

  “In that case, then I must try one.” He smiled at the trio.

  “Brrt!”

  “Have we got a lot to tell you!” Zoe stayed at Hans’ table while Lauren made his cappuccino.

  “I cannot believe it all,” Hans remarked when Lauren brought over his order. “I do feel for poor Mrs. Snuggle. I have not yet met this new priest who is filling in for Father Mike, though.”

  “He seems to be interested in scrapbooking.” Zoe giggled.

  “Speaking of ...” Lauren glanced at the oak and glass entrance door. Three of the ladies they’d met yesterday at the church hall entered.

  “Ooh, that’s Doris, and Virginia, and Janice – the one who’s more our age,” Zoe added to Hans.

  “I am afraid I have not met these ladies, either.”

  “Martha knows them,” Lauren commented.

  “Yeah, she was scrapping with them yesterday,” Zoe added. “Do you call it scrapping?”

  “I have no idea,” Lauren replied. “Knitting and making the occasional cushion cover is enough for me right now.” She’d finally finished sewing a second pink cushion cover for the sofa.

  “And pottery is enough for me right now.”

  “Ach, yes, everyone at the senior center is talking about your mugs,” Hans informed her. “I must buy your latest design.”


  “Thanks.” Zoe beamed. “I’m having a tiny break right now, waiting for inspiration to strike. But with Annie as my model, it shouldn’t be long.” She winked at the silver-gray tabby.

  “Brrt!”

  After trying several different hobbies, Zoe had settled on pottery for the moment, making mugs and painting Annie’s portrait on them, in a variety of poses. The customers loved them, particularly Ms. Tobin, and now they used them for the customers’ beverages as well.

  “Brrt,” Annie said to Hans, jumping off the chair and trotting over to the Please Wait to be Seated sign to greet the ladies.

  “Annie will show you to a table,” Lauren called to them, returning to the counter.

  “How cute!” Janice smiled down at Annie. “Aren’t you a pretty girl.”

  “Brrt.” There was a little smile on Annie’s face as she showed them to a four-seater near Hans.

  Customers were encouraged to order at the counter, but they relaxed this rule for the elderly, infirm, and harried.

  Lauren watched Annie hop onto the vacant chair at the newcomers’ table, talk to Janice for a moment, then return to Hans.

  Zoe zigzagged to Janice’s table, and took their order.

  “Virginia was complaining that the menu was very limited,” she stage-whispered out of the side of her mouth, a frown on her brow.

  “Really?”

  “Don’t worry, by the time they sample your cupcakes, they’ll be raving customers.”

  “I haven’t seen them in here before, have you?” Lauren asked.

  “Nope. Maybe Martha recommended us. She was at scrapbooking with them yesterday.”

  “That’s right.” Lauren nodded.

  “They all want a latte, too.”

  Lauren began steaming the milk, determined to give them a wonderful design on the top of their micro foam.

  Zoe helped her take the order over to them, elegant peacocks gracing the beverages. Lauren glanced at Hans’ table on the way – Annie still “chatted” to him. She wondered if her fur baby was telling him about looking after Mrs. Snuggle.

  “Thank you,” Doris spoke when Lauren set down the tray on the table. “Oh, your cupcakes do look scrumptious, just like Zoe described.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren replied.

  “Yes, they do look quite good,” Virginia said, “but the proof is in the tasting.”

  “I’m sure you’ll love them,” Zoe promised.