Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
It was one of many emergency situations over the past few days. I attribute it to the full moon. They always make cats and their humans a little squirrely.
Today I arrive at Miles’s mother’s house ready to spend quality time with Prince Francis. Now that he seems to have calmed down, I’ve been rotating nights, spending one at home and one with Prince Francis. He’s stopped knocking things off shelves and dressers, so I’m considering it a win. Once Miles’s mother is settled in the home, I’m crossing my fingers they’ll allow him to live with her.
I expect Prince Francis to greet me as soon as I walk through the door, but he doesn’t. I assume he’s either mad at me for not staying over last night, or he’s in nap mode.
I leave my purse on the table at the front entrance and toe off my shoes, no longer worried about broken trinkets since most have been packed or disposed of at this point. I’m on my way to the kitchen to grab his treats when I hear a female voice.
“Prince Francis! Come out from under the bed!”
I halt and listen, my heart suddenly in my throat. Miles’s car isn’t in the driveway, and I’m sure he would have let me know if someone was supposed to stop by.
“Come out, Prince Francis! I have treats for you!”
Maybe it’s a neighbor? I consider leaving and coming back later, but what if it’s not? I follow the voice up the stairs. I don’t want to scare anyone, but if there’s a catnapper in the house, I also don’t want to alert them to my presence. I pick up a ceramic figurine on my way down the hall and cringe at the squeak in the floorboards.
The first door on the second floor is wide open. Toby’s room. I peek in and find a woman crouched on all fours, with her cheek pressed to the floor. Her back is to me. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail and threaded through with gray. She makes a tutting sound and pleads with Prince Francis. “You know you’re not allowed in Toby’s room when he’s at school. Come on out, Prince Francis, and I’ll give you a big treat. I have cans of tuna in the cupboard. If you’re a good boy, I’ll share it with you.”
My heart skips another beat; this must be Miles’s mother. I have no idea how she managed to get here if Miles isn’t with her.
I clear my throat and knock on the door, addressing her formally. “Excuse me, Ms. Thorn?”
She startles and pushes up onto her knees, twisting to face me. Her brows pull together in a furrow. I can see pieces of Miles in her face. They have the same eyes and nose, and the same lanky, lean build. “Hello. Are you Toby’s tutor? He isn’t home from school yet.”
I give her a small smile, unsure how to proceed. “I’m a friend of Miles. I’ve been taking care of Prince Francis while you’ve been away.”
That earns me another looks of confusion. “A friend of Miles?”
“My name is Kitty Hart. I’m a professional cat sitter.” I figure facts are the best way to go. If she still thinks Toby is alive, Miles would only be eleven and not likely to have women friends in their midtwenties.
“Kitty Hart? Professional cat sitter?” She tips her head. Her mouth opens in an O, and her hands flutter around in the air. “Oh! Oh! Kitty Hart! I know you! I follow you on Instagram and TikTok! I love your posts!” She pushes up off the floor and wipes her hands on her hips. She takes one of my hands in both of hers and pumps it vigorously. “I told my son about you. I had to go away for a while.” Her eyebrows try to touch each other. “I don’t know why.” Her expression shifts again, eyes suddenly murky and distant. “My youngest boy should be home from school soon. I should make him a snack.”
I swallow down a pang of sadness as she pats me on the shoulder and heads for the door. “Come along, sweetheart, I’ll make you a snack, too. Kitty Hart in my house. What a day.”
I follow her to the kitchen, leaving Prince Francis in Toby’s bedroom. He’ll come down when he hears the treat bag being opened. I make a stop at the front door and grab my phone from my purse so I can message Miles. I have a feeling his mother showing up here isn’t a surprise to only me.
She stops when she reaches the living room. “Oh my goodness! My knickknacks! Did someone steal them?”
“Prince Francis was knocking them off the shelves, so we boxed them up,” I explain.
I quickly fire off a message to Miles to let him know that his mother is here, at her house, and that I’m trying to find out information but I’m not sure how successful I’ll be, and that he should probably call the care facility and let them know.