“As I said, he apologized and was decent about the whole thing. Completely disarmed me. And then there’s that cat.”
“Poe?” Seraphina asked.
“Yeah. He climbed into my bag and then my lap.” I told her the whole story, which made her laugh.
“I remember when Poe showed up at the bookstore,” Seraphina said. “Back when Dorian’s mother was still alive. She was such a hoot about that cat, telling everyone he was now the store mascot. The customers loved him right away. Personally, it adds to the ambiance of the place. Do you remember the time he sat on my table at a signing as if he were my manager?”
“Yeah, that was funny.” My tone sounded dull even to my own ears.
Seraphina reached across the table to take hold of my wrist while lifting my chin with the other. “You know I love you.”
I nodded, bracing myself for what was coming.
“Isn’t it time you stop punishing yourself for Jon's death?”
I opened my mouth to defend myself but changed my mind. Instead, I admitted the truth, “I don’t know how.”
6
DORIAN
After sending my last customer off with a stack of mysteries, I locked the door, thinking about what I should do for dinner when I suddenly had an eerie feeling. Not like someone was watching me. More like something was missing. There were no customers left, obviously. It was supposed to be quiet. But not this quiet.
My eyes swept the store, and then I knew.
It was Poe. Or rather, the absence of Poe. He was not in any of his usual places. Cat bed was empty except for a play mouse one of my young customers had brought him. He was not sprawled out on the “staff picks” table where he enjoyed staring at customers while they perused the choices. Sometimes he hung out under the front desk, where he enjoyed climbing into empty boxes to take a nap. Nothing there. He was not in my office, nor in any of the spaces in his penthouse suite kitty condo. I went to the children’s section, sure he was there, wedged between picture books on the lowest shelf, daring kids to pull one out and disturb him. No sign of him.
I looked in the bathroom next. One time he’d locked himself in there, alerting me to his predicament with one indignantmeow from behind the door as if I were the one to send him in there in the first place.
Where was he? I was starting to panic. What if he’d gotten out and was hit by a car?
I ran to the back door that led into the alley and, sure enough, it was slightly ajar. Just enough space for one fat cat to get through. But why would he have gone outside? He showed zero interest in inhabiting any space but the store, where he made himself quite at home. Poe was not an adventurer. In fact, he was terribly lazy. More of abook catthana chase something down the alleytype. Poe’s idea of physical exertion was walking from his bed to his food bowl with a brief pause in the middle to reconsider whether the trip was worth it. I could not believe it.
I stepped into the alley, calling for him, as if he’d actually come to me if he thought that’s what I wanted. Still no sign of him. I jogged out to the sidewalk out front, looking under cars and behind trash cans, my earlier alarm having gone into complete panic mode.
Esme’s flower shop was two doors down. If Poe had wandered in that way, someone might have spotted him. I jogged that direction, stopping at the front door. Esme was behind the counter, putting together a large bouquet. Her daughter, Madison, was perched on a stool reading a Junie B. Jones book I’d sold her last week.
“Dorian, what brings you by?” Esme gave me one of her sunny smiles.
“Hi, Dorian,” Madison said, jumping from the stool to give me a hug. The child was just like her mother, sweetness and light.
“I’m looking for Poe. He got out,” I said, surprised to hear a shake in my voice. I didn’t even love the darn cat. Maybe a little. Only because my mother had loved him so.
“Oh no. Do you know when?” Esme asked.
I tried to remember the last time I’d seen him. “I think it’s been fifteen or twenty minutes. But it could be longer. I didn’t see him leave, so I really don’t know.” A worried glance at the busy downtown street sent my blood pressure up.
“I saw him,” Madison said, matter-of-factly, as she climbed back on her stood.
“You did?” Esme asked, sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know he couldn’t go out for walks,” Madison said. “Trevor goes out on walks a lot.”
“Trevor’s a dog,” Esme said. “Cats do not take walks outside. At least not house cats.”
Wondering about that, since he first came to the bookstore from the alley, I asked, “Did you see where he was going?” .
“I saw exactly where he went,” Madison said, in a tone that implied we were freaking out for no reason. “He went to Delphine’s gallery. I saw him walk right in there. Like he went there all the time, so I figured he did.”
