He and Polly agreed to forgo their usual Saturday-night date—she to study the psychology of a bookstore’s floor plan, and Qwilleran to psych himself up for the rehearsal the next afternoon.
Then, on Sunday morning, Gary Pratt phoned, his high-pitched voice reaching new heights of emotion:
“Qwill! You’ll never guess what! Lish just called. She’s still in Milwaukee! Can’t be here for rehearsal! Isn’t that a beast! She said she was doing some research for you down there, and it was taking longer than she expected. Is that true?”
“Basically, but it was a minor assignment and not worth missing a rehearsal.”
“She said to tell you she has some hot news for you.”
Qwilleran grunted noncommittally.
“Are you going to be up this way, Qwill? I need to talk and get something off my chest. Maxine said I should talk to you.”
“Any trouble?” Qwilleran asked.
“Well . . . yes and no.”
Unanswered questions were anathema to Qwilleran, and he found himself hungering for a bear burger, Hotel Booze style. On arrival, “You look like a sick bear,” he told Gary.
“I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” Gary said. “I got to worrying about something Lish said when she and Lush were hanging around the bar: Someday Mount Vernon would be hers, and she was gonna make it into a bed-and-breakfast and build condos on the back of the property. I didn’t think anything of it at the time; people like to talk big at bars. But last night I thought, Hey! Maybe she means it! There’s a story, you know, about a barfly who boasted he was gonna blow up city hall, and no one believed him.”
“But he blew it up!” Qwilleran said. “It’s a classic situation.”
“Yeah, and now that her grandmother has taken an apartment at the retirement center so she can have assisted care, when and if! Maybe she doesn’t have long to live! Maybe Lish can carry out her boast! My stomach turns over at the thought of that historic house going commercial! That beautiful house! It’s been called the jewel in the crown of the Brrr Parkway. Great spot for a B and B, right?” he added bitterly. “The thing of it is, I never liked Lish in school. She was stuck-up! She had her own car and a special permit for underage driving. She got all A’s. The only thing she didn’t get was . . . dates! The guys couldn’t stand her!”
“Why did you recommend her, Gary, for the show?”
“Well, y’see, I wanted to show her what kind of things we do here now, and what kind of people are living here. We’re not a bunch of hicks.”
Cheerfully, Qwilleran said, “It looks as if you’re up a creek without a paddle, friend, but there’s a solution to every problem. All it takes is a little thought. Any idea when Lish and Lush will return?”
“Maybe her grandmother does. Wonder what the old gal thinks of Lush. You just know she wants Lish to marry a doctor, and settle down, and raise a family, and be president of the PTA, and sing in the church choir! It’s funny! So why ain’t I laughing?”
EIGHT
Qwilleran had ambivalent reactions to the canceled rehearsal. He had worked hard to meet the deadline. And yet—if it meant the answer to the long-unanswered question about Koko’s background—he would call it an even exchange. Only someone who has lived for years with a psychic cat could understand his attitude.
On Sunday morning he phoned Polly, although he was sure she would be attending church services. He left a message: “Rehearsal postponed. Taking cats to the beach. Will call you tonight.
Next he grabbed Yum Yum before she knew what was happening and pushed her, protesting, into the travel coop. Koko entered it willingly. Then Qwilleran filled a picnic basket with cold drinks in an ice pack, a ham sandwich for himself, crunchies for the Siamese, and two molasses-ginger cookies from the Scottish bakery. He wondered how these plain, flat, brown cookies could be so humble and yet so delectable. Upon further consideration, he put all four in the basket.
It was only a half-hour drive from the grandiose barn to the snug, friendly log cabin. On arrival the three of them trooped to the screened porch overlooking the lake.
It was a beautiful day. The water splashed gently on the shore. Sandpipers ran up and down like wind-up toys. A soft breeze wafted the tall beach grass that covered the side of the dune. And there was always one tiny bird, weighing a tenth of an ounce, perched on the tip of a blade of grass and riding back and forth.
Koko immediately assumed his Egyptian-cat pose on the tall pedestal that he considered his own. Yum Yum ran around, batting insects on the outside of the screen. Qwilleran lounged in a chair and propped his feet on a footstool.
After a while Koko emitted a throaty rumbling and pointed his ears to the east. In a few moments a pair of beach walkers approached, looking for agates and dropping them in a small plastic sack.
Qwilleran went out to the top of the sand-ladder and shouted, “Would you two trespassers like to come up for a cold drink?”
Lisa and Lyle Compton, both wearing “BRRR 200” T-shirts, gladly accepted.
