The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella (3 page)

"Stay calm," she told herself as Charlie and
Juanita watched her with curiosity.

The house was almost empty. How difficult
could it be to find a twenty-two pound Maine coon cat in an empty
house?

She searched from top to bottom but there
wasn't a sign of Sebastian. How could she have been so careless?
When she'd chastised him earlier for getting underfoot, she should
have hustled him back into the kitchen where he belonged. But she'd
been distracted and weepy and now Sebastian was missing because of
it.

The mover's rep found her standing on the
back porch without a coat, looking for paw prints in the snow.

"We're all done," he said. "I need you to
sign one more form the we're out of here."

She scribbled her name again and handed back
the clipboard. "Did you see my cat anywhere?"

"Your cat?" He frowned. "Do you mean that big
guy who was getting underfoot?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Not since you told him to get lost."

Her heart sank. "You're sure you haven't seen
him anywhere?"

"Not me," he said. "Let me ask some of the
crew."

Jill followed him around the side of the
house to where the movers were tying down the last few pieces of
furniture.

"Hey, guys, her cat's missing. Anybody see
him?"

They all shrugged except one.

"The son of a gun got me good," he said,
extending his left leg. "Shredded my pants with those claws of
his."

Jill groaned. Definitely Sebastian's
handiwork. "I'm so sorry. Please add that to my bill."

"Darn right," the mover said. "If I were you,
I'd put that thing on a leash."

"I will if I can find him."
When I find
him
, she corrected herself. Sebastian had been with them
forever. David had found him in the pet shop one Christmas Eve and
brought him home in the beat-up leather backpack he'd used as a
book bag. She loved all of the pets who'd made their home with
them, but Sebastian was her special favorite. He had been with her
from the beginning and--

She forced the thought from her mind. She
refused to even contemplate it.

The movers climbed into the truck and moments
later the truck rumbled down the street. The next time she saw her
furniture would be at her townhouse the day after Christmas. She
wished she could muster up some enthusiasm for the prospect. It was
a perfectly lovely townhouse with a sunny kitchen and three
bedrooms but it wasn't home and she knew it never would be.

She searched the front yard for paw prints in
the snow or some indication that Sebastian had been there, but she
found nothing. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she hurried back
into the house. "Okay," she said aloud, "don't get crazy. He used
to do this all the time. It's no big deal." So why did she have the
feeling there was something different this time, almost as if
Sebastian had no intention of ever coming back?

There was only one other person on the face
of the earth who felt about Sebastian the way she did. Taking a
deep breath, she dialed David's office.

"Denise, this is Jill. Is David there?" She
cradled the receiver against her shoulder. "I didn't realize he was
flying to San Francisco tonight...yes, it's important...please tell
him I called." She hung up, feeling as if she'd run face first into
a brick wall. He was leaving tonight? She hadn't realized he was in
such a hurry to get to his new assignment.

She paced the kitchen then reached for the
phone again and dialed the hotel where David had been staying the
last three months.

"Mr. Whittaker checked out this morning," the
operator said. "Have a nice day."

"Damn!" she whispered, hanging up the phone.
Why did everything have to be so complicated? It hadn't always been
this hard....

#

Then

"I can do this," Jill told herself as she
dropped a dime into the pay phone at Palmer Square. The world was
changing, even if her parents refused to believe it. Girls called
guys all the time these days. It wasn't like she was asking for a
date. All she needed was a ride to New York City.

"Hello?" The male voice was slightly husky
and very appealing.

"David Whittaker, please."

"You've got him."

She clutched the phone to her ear. "Uh, hi.
My name is Jill Aylesworth. I--um, Sandi Vitelli gave me your
number. She said you were driving up to New York tomorrow morning
and--"

"You need a ride?"

"I do," she said, trying to sound like she
did this sort of thing every day of the week. "I'd be happy to pay
for gas and any--"

"Ten bucks."

"Oh. Well, of course. Gas money plus ten
dollars. That sounds fair."

A rumbly chuckle, not at all unpleasant,
tickled her ear. "Did I say something funny?"

"You agreed to the first price I
mentioned."

"It was a good price."

"It was a lousy price. You could've had the
ride for gas money."

"You should have told me that."

"Then I'd miss out on the ten bucks and I
have a feeling I need it a hell of a lot more than you do."

"How would you know whether or not I need the
ten dollars?" she countered, temper rising. "You don't know
anything about me."

"If you needed it, you would have bargained
with me."

"Maybe I'm just a nice person."

"If you are, it's because you can afford
it."

"This has been a lovely conversation, but
I've had quite enough. Good--"

"Hey, don't get upset."

"Don't get upset?" She stared at the phone as
if it had sprouted horns and a tail. "You've made a fistful of
insulting assumptions about me and you tell me not to get upset? If
you're one of those working class types who think rich people are
the enemy, then--"

"I'm sorry."

Her temper deflated like a popped balloon.
"You are?"

"Yes," he said. "I have a weird sense of
humor. It's an acquired taste."

She found herself grinning at the phone.
"I've been told I have no sense of humor."

"Sounds like we're made for each other. Maybe
we should elope tomorrow instead of driving up to New York."

"Sounds great," she said, feeling suddenly
lighthearted. "I'll pay for the gas and you can pay for the
marriage license."

She'd never bantered that way before. Usually
the witty response occurred to her the day after she needed it. It
felt good to make a guy laugh, even if she'd probably never see him
again after they reached New York City tomorrow afternoon.

#

"Full circle," she said as the memory
shimmered then faded away. They fell in love on Christmas Eve and
now, thirteen years later on a snowy Christmas Eve, they would
finally say goodbye.

Chapter Two

How the hell was it possible to sweat when it
was twenty degrees outside and snowing?

David Whittaker wasn't a scientist but it
seemed to him that he was doing something pretty damn
extraordinary. The heater was turned off. He'd cracked the window a
good two inches. He had the feeling that nothing short of a new Ice
Age could stop the twin beads of sweat from trickling down his
temples.

His assistant's message had been short and
sweet.
Jill called. She said it was important. Call her
back.
Ten words, nine of them words of one syllable. You'd
think it would take more than that to screw up your thermostat.

He told himself it was no big deal, that she
was probably calling about the house or the car or some document
that needed his signature. She'd avoided him at every turn the last
two months. The kids relayed his messages, her attorney answered
his questions--her voice on the answering machine was as close as
he got to making contact.

And now this. Out of nowhere she'd called
him. His imagination was running riot.

Come back home, David...I love you,
David...we can't get along without you, David...

There were at least a dozen variations on
that same theme and not one of them stood a chance in hell of
coming true.

He turned off the main road and negotiated
the hill that led to Eagle Ridge Drive. The snow was coming down
hard and fast and he wished he was driving the Jeep. The driveway
curved gently off Eagle Ridge and he eased into the turn. He always
stopped at the same spot, just far enough back that he could get a
good look at the house. He used to tell himself he was checking for
gutter problems or trouble with the siding but the truth was, he
just wanted to sit there and revel in the fact that the house and
the gutters and the siding were his. His house. His home. The one
place on earth where he would always belong.

When he was a little boy, he'd dreamed about
the house he would own when he grew up. He spent hours lying on
whatever bed his current foster family provided, imagining the
house from the basement up. He knew every detail of the foundation,
every bend and twist of pipe. He knew what kind of insulation the
walls would have, the kind of wiring he'd run. It would be two
stories high with wide windows and a front porch where kids could
while away a summer afternoon. It would be the kind of house those
same kids came back to long after they were grown, a welcoming
house that greeted you with open arms and pulled you inside.

One day he'd meet the right girl and his
heart would burst open like a piñata, spilling gold coins and
diamonds at her feet. He would sweep her up into his arms and carry
her away to the house of his dreams, where they would have six
children and live happily ever after.

That's exactly how he'd felt when he met Jill
Aylesworth thirteen years ago today.

He glanced at his watch. Almost to the hour.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.

"It's now or never," he told himself as he
shut off the ignition. Sitting out there staring at the house
wasn't going to change things. She either wanted to get back with
him or she didn't and the only way to find out was to get his sorry
butt out of that car and knock on the front door.

He tried to ignore the big yellow FOR SALE
sign stuck in the snowy front yard, but it wasn't easy. The house
he'd dreamed about wasn't for sale.

"David! Oh thank God, you're here!" As always
the sight of her stole his breath away. Her coppery hair was pinned
atop her head in a tumble of curls and she wore jeans and a
sweatshirt. No makeup. A smudge of dirt on her cheek. She was still
the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.

His spirits soared but he couldn't let her
see that. "Denise gave me your message," he said. He paused a
second, waiting for her to throw herself into his arms. "Are the
kids okay?"

"They're fine." She seemed distracted.

"Where are they?"

"Phyllis took them to Quakerbridge to see
Santa so I could deal with the movers."

She was staring over his shoulder,
practically looking right through him. That didn't bode well for a
Hollywood-style reconciliation.

"Uh, Jill, it's snowing out here. Mind if I
come in?"
It's Christmas Eve, Jilly. Don't you remember what
that used to mean to us?

Her cheeks reddened and she motioned him into
the foyer.

"So what's wrong?" he asked as he shook snow
from his hair. "Did I forget to sign something?"

"It's Sebastian," she said, her chin
trembling. "He's gone."

"Gone?" He glanced toward the living room,
expecting to see Sebastian sprawled on the rug in front of the
fireplace. There was no rug and no Sebastian. "Are you sure?"

"He weighs twenty-two pounds," she said, her
tears shifting quickly to anger. "He's pretty hard to miss."

Every now and then he was reminded she wasn't
a redhead for nothing

"You know how he likes to hide in Tori's
room. Maybe--"

She shook her head.

"What about the basement? That place under
the stairs where we used to keep the Christmas decorations."

"Sebastian's gone, David, and if we don't
find him before the kids get back--" She turned her head and he saw
her do something to her eyes with a tissue.

In the old days he would have pulled her into
his arms and kissed away her tears. He hated standing there,
helpless to comfort her, but he no longer had the right. She'd made
that perfectly clear when she filed for divorce.

"This isn't the first time he's taken off
like this," he pointed out after her tears subsided. "In the old
days, he was gone more than he was here. You know he always comes
back home."

Home
.

"I know," she managed, "but the kids and I
are spending tonight at my sister's Patsy's house in Philadelphia.
Unless Sebastian knows about Amtrak, he'll never find us."

"Damn it," he said, dragging a hand through
his snow-damp hair. "The timing stinks. I'm flying out to San
Francisco tonight."

"Denise told me." She paused for a moment.
"What's the rush?"

"The Japanese consortium is holding an open
house tomorrow afternoon at the building site."

"And you wouldn't want to miss a big event
like that."

"There's nothing holding me here."
Is
there, Jilly?

"No," she said lightly, "nothing at all."

He tried to put a positive spin on her words
but failed miserably. You're a jerk, Whittaker. It's over. You'd
better get used to it.

"About Sebastian," he said. "Where have you
looked for him?"

"My car is being serviced," she said, "so I
couldn't get very far. I checked the yards and the woods behind the
house."

He checked his watch.

"I know you're a busy man," she said, her
words clipped. "I wouldn't have bothered you if I'd realized you
were leaving tonight."