“So, this visiting cousin has fake fangs?” Marguerite asked solemnly.
Parker nodded. “Yeah. The fangs are super real-looking, but they have to be fake,” he assured them and then added an uncertain, “Right?”
“Yes, of course,” Pet said quickly, but noted the glance Marguerite and Santo exchanged.
“Yeah,” Parker agreed, seeming disappointed. But in the next moment he perked up and said, “I wish I knew where he got them. I’d be Dracula for Halloween, ’cause those fangs were super cool. They actually seemed to slide down out of his upper gums.”
“Did they?” Pet asked weakly, and then decided it was time to get off this subject. “So, what happened after you called 911 and they didn’t believe you?”
“Well, I took Mrs. Wiggles to my room. I mean I couldn’t just leave her outside. She’s a house cat. Mr. Purdy lets her out to sun herself in the garden during the day, but she always sleeps indoors,” he pointed out, and Pet murmured an agreement when he seemed to be waiting for one. Once she had, he continued, “Everything was fine until Dad came home. He was late getting in, and I was already in bed. Mrs. Wiggles was sleeping with me, and Dad must have looked in on me, ’cause he freaked out and woke me up!”
Parker grimaced and then explained to Marguerite and Santo, “Dad’s super allergic to cats, so wasn’t too happy to find one in the house. But I told him what had happened and how worried I was about Mr. Purdy and what Mr. Purdy’s cousin said he would do if he saw Mrs. Wiggles again, and Dad said she could stay for one night, but he was taking her back in the morning, and he’d check to be sure everything was okay with Mr. Purdy when he did.”
“That would have been this morning?” Pet asked, just trying to be sure she was getting the time line right. When Parker nodded, she asked, “And was Mr. Purdy all right?”
The boy scowled, anger clouding his face. “Dad never went over. When I got up this morning, Mrs. Wiggles was still in my room and Mom was cussing and swearing on the phone to you about Dad taking off without even talking to her about it, and she couldn’t believe he’d done that when he knew she had that big convention and she was the keynote speaker and everything.”
Pet nodded solemnly. The phone call Parker was talking about was the reason she was looking after him. Her sister, Quinn, had been in a heck of a state when she’d called to ask if Pet could look after Parker for the week. She had a convention to go to and her husband, Patrick, was supposed to be the one looking after Parker while she was gone. But instead Quinn had received a text message on her way home from the hospital that morning, announcing that Parker was still sleeping and while Patrick had waited as long as he could for her to get home, he had to head out or he’d miss his flight. He was going out of town on business and would call when he could.
Fortunately, Quinn had only been minutes from home at that point, but she’d been livid. “A text message! Can you imagine? He left Parker all alone and didn’t even have the balls to call me,” she’d shrieked. “Probably because he knew I’d react like this. The convention has been on the calendar for almost a year. Patrick knew how important it is to me. He knew I counted on him to watch Parker, and then he just takes off ‘on business’ hours before I’m supposed to fly out? Leaving our son alone at home! What fricking business? He’s an oncologist, not a stewardess.”
“I think they’re called flight attendants now,” Pet had responded automatically. The silence that followed had clued her into the fact that it had not been the right thing to say and Pet had quickly offered to look after Parker while Quinn went to her conference. She’d then spent several minutes trying to calm her sister before she managed to hang up.
What had followed was a mad rush to pack up everything she might need while she stayed in her sister’s home and looked after her nephew. Pet had then headed to work, knowing she would be coming here at the end of the day rather than her own place. Fortunately, UAlbany was on the summer schedule now and she only had a couple of lectures a day, so would be here when Parker got out of school. The private school he attended wouldn’t stop for summer break for another couple of weeks.
“So,” Parker continued, “I fed Mrs. Wiggles and tried to think what to do. I wanted to tell Mom about Mr. Purdy and his cousin and Mrs. Wiggles and about Dad not taking her home and checking on Mr. Purdy like he’d promised, but she was already so mad at him I thought maybe I’d better not. And then she was so grumpy, I decided it might be better just to put Mrs. Wiggles in the basement for the day and figure out what to do later.”
Heaving a sigh, he shook his head and said, “Only I was so excited to see you when you came to pick me up after school . . . and then we went to dinner and came back and played video games and . . . I forgot all about her until bedtime,” he admitted, shamefaced.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her then?” Pet asked quietly. “I would have taken her back and checked on Mr. Purdy for you.”
“I almost did,” Parker admitted. “But then I was afraid the cousin might hurt you or something, and decided I’d better not.”
Pet normally would have bristled at the suggestion that she couldn’t protect herself, but this time, she didn’t and simply nodded in understanding.
“The cocoa’s ready,” Marguerite said into the silence that had fallen over the room. Pet glanced around to see that the woman had moved away to prepare four cups of hot chocolate while she’d been distracted listening to Parker.
“Santo, why don’t you carry the cocoa to the table while I plate the cookies?” Marguerite suggested and the comment made Pet blink with surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone refer to plating food since her university days, when she’d worked waiting tables in a restaurant to make extra money. Marguerite obviously had a similar experience. That or she was a chef. The thought made Pet frown as she realized she didn’t know a thing about these people. In the normal course of events she would have asked such questions. In this instance, she hadn’t . . . and wouldn’t.
Pet pushed that thought away as soon as she’d had it and forced a smile. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, dear. Just sit down. I’ll be right there,” Marguerite assured her. Pet could see that it was true. The woman had already retrieved a plate and was even now transferring cookies to it from a Tupperware container. Pet made herself remove the hand she’d had on Parker’s shoulder almost since their arrival and settled in the chair next to him. She couldn’t resist scooting her chair a little closer to his, though, and then Santo was suddenly leaning over her to place a cup of hot cocoa on the table in front of her.
Pet stilled, her body automatically going on high alert as it prepared for fight or flight. He didn’t touch her, didn’t even brush against her, but she was very aware of the heat from his body. His scent, a heady musk, briefly enveloped her and she found herself closing her eyes and inhaling deeply to suck the intoxicating aroma deep into her lungs.
“Here we are.” Marguerite’s voice was cheerful and drawing nearer.
Pet flushed guiltily and blinked her eyes open as Santo straightened and moved on to set down Parker’s cocoa. She watched silently as the woman set a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table. Marguerite then settled in the chair opposite Parker, leaving Santo to sit next to Pet.
“Hot cocoa and cookies are my comfort food,” Marguerite said cheerfully as she took a cookie and then pushed the plate closer to Parker and Pet. “They always help me put things in perspective.”
Pet managed a polite smile but didn’t reach for a cookie. Parker immediately took one, though, and settled down to eating it and drinking his cocoa with an enthusiasm she envied.
“Aren’t you going to have one, Petronella?” Marguerite asked gently.
Pet shook her head at once. “My stomach’s still churning. Too much excitement I guess.”
Marguerite murmured sympathetically, and Pet glanced away, her gaze landing on Santo. She stiffened when she noted the concentrated expression on his face as he peered at her. Shifting uncomfortably, she turned back to her nephew. “Hurry up and finish, Parker. You need to get to sleep. Tomorrow is a school day.”
Nodding, the kid took another bite of his cookie and reached for his cocoa. Pet was watching him tensely when a dog barked somewhere in the house. Raising her head, she glanced to Marguerite, almost hopefully. “You have a dog?”
“Yes, dear. A Neapolitan mastiff,” she said, seeming amused by something.
Pet almost shuddered with relief but tried to look regretful as she said, “Oh, well, we should probably go stay at a hotel then. I mean, I wouldn’t want Mrs. Wiggles to be a problem.”
“Nonsense, J loves cats,” Marguerite said at once.
Pet frowned, seeing her chances of escape slipping away, and then rallied and said, “Yes, but I’m not sure how Mrs. Wiggles will react to him. She might swat him with her claws or something. I wouldn’t want—”
“Let’s see, shall we?”
Before Pet could protest further, Marguerite was on her feet and out of the room. A moment later, the soft clack of claws on hardwood announced her return as she led a huge leashed, black dog back into the kitchen. Pet’s eyes widened as she stared at the beast. He was just short of three feet tall on all fours, but she suspected would be taller than her if he stood on his hind legs. She was equally sure he weighed a good fifty pounds more than she did, and all of that appeared to be muscle.
“J, this is Pet,” Marguerite announced, stopping next to her.
Pet stared at the dog blankly and then blinked when the animal stepped forward and laid his head in her lap in greeting.
“It’s all right. He won’t bite,” Marguerite said gently.
“He will drool, though,” Santo said with amusement.
Pet smiled faintly and petted the beast’s big head, surprised at how soft his fur was. She gave a startled laugh when the dog slid his tongue out to lap at her arm as she petted him.