At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(50)

Sam the Cat meowed and twined herself between Gracie's ankles. Sam was going on fifteen years old. Her eyesight was dimming with age. Her old bones ached on cold mornings. Sam the Cat had been Gramma Del's companion the last few years while Gracie was at school, spending long sunny afternoons curled up next to Del on the feather bed by the window. Gracie was horrified to realize she had forgotten all about her old friend.

"Oh, Sammy!" She bent down to pick up the cat and cradled her close. "I've been so caught up in my own life I forgot all about you."

She couldn't leave the poor cat alone in the house with only Ben to depend on for food and water. She couldn't board Sam at the animal hospital without a lot of explanation and a fair amount of guilt. She just plain couldn't leave Sam.

"So how do you feel about Paris?" she asked. "I'm not sure they have Whiskas over there but I guess we can figure it out as we go along." She had never been good at being impulsive or spontaneous. It unnerved her that Sam had slipped somehow through the cracks. That kind of thing never happened to Gracie. She loved detailed master plans that included back-up plans, contingency plans to the back-up plans, and additional plans for any and all emergencies that might crop up along the way.

She checked Gramma Del's pantry and found an even dozen cans of cat food plus two boxes of dry. They used to keep the cat carrier in the tool shed but that was before Ben took the shed over for his tools and other equipment. She rummaged through Gramma's two closets then ran back across to the main house to check the basement. She had barely let herself in the front door when she heard the sound of a car approaching. She knew it wouldn't be Noah. Oh God, please don't let it be her father. She wasn't looking for a confrontation with him. All she wanted was to walk away from the mess he'd made of his own life and build something fine and wonderful and lasting with Noah.

She parted the yellow-and-orange curtains and peered out the kitchen window. A shiny silvery-grey Lincoln Town Car was pulling into the driveway next to her Mustang. The contrast between the cars was laughable. She only knew one person who drove a car like that.

She could actually hear her heartbeat pulsing in her ears, at the base of her throat, deep inside her chest. She tried to pull in a deep breath but she was trembling so hard it was almost impossible. A coincidence, that's all it was. Simon Chase couldn't possibly know about the elopement. She and Noah had gone to great lengths to keep their plans secret. Not even the almighty owner of the Gazette could have ferreted out the truth.

Noah! What if something had happened to Noah, some terrible accident like the one that had killed her mother, and Simon was here to tell her about it. What was wrong with her? She was letting her imagination run wild when all she had to do was open the front door and ask him what he wanted.

"Good afternoon, Graciela." Simon was tall and spare with a thick head of snowy white hair that sparkled in the sunlight. She looked into his brown eyes but couldn't see any of Noah's goodness reflected back.

She tried that deep breath one more time. You're as good as any of them, Graciela, and don't you forget that.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Chase?"

"I was sorry to learn of Cordelia's passing."

"Thank you."

"She was a good woman."

"Yes," Gracie said, "she was."

"Did you get our flowers?"

"We did," she said. "I mailed a thank you this morning." My manners are impeccable, Mr. Chase. My grandmother, your cook, saw to that.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Not if I can help it. "Do you need to use the phone?" I'll bring it out to you.

"I would like to talk with you, Graciela, and I'm afraid the hot sun is too intense for me these days." An allusion, no doubt, to his heart attacks and compromised health.

"Please." She stepped aside. "Come in."

He nodded but his expression never altered. For a man suffering from the heat, he seemed cool and perfectly controlled.

"Please sit down," she said, gesturing toward the couch with the pale blue sheet tossed over it to hide the tears. "Would you care for some iced tea? Pepsi? Lemonade?"

"Water would be fine."

Water. Leave it to him to ask for water, the one thing she hadn't offered. "Be right back."

Seconds later she returned with a glass of iced water. She wasn't about to give him a chance to go poking around in there alone.