Page 36 of Autumn at the Cat Cafe

“Earl didn’t specify. The quiz is sealed and I can’t open the envelope until day thirty. My advice is to learn as much as you can. There’s no telling what kind of questions he came up with.”

He rubbed his palm over his jean-clad thigh. “Will do.” He paused, unsure if he wanted to ask another question, the one that had been surfing in his mind while he was going through his uncle’s paperwork. But it wouldn’t go away unless he got an answer. “Did Earl tell you anything about his—our—family?”

“No. He only mentioned you and your mother in a legal context.”

“Oh.” He felt a little jab of disappointment at that.

“Glad things are going well for you. If you need me, I’m down the street or a phone call away.”

“Thanks, Bennett.”

They hung up, and Leo glanced around the apartment. Earl didn’t have a single picture of his parents or Constance in view. None of himself either. No personal pictures at all. It was hard to believe he and Constance were even related. She would never step foot in either the apartment or Second Chapter, and not only because of the chaotic states they were in. Earl’s surroundings were too bourgeois. Ironic, considering she’d grown up with him in a working-class family outside Philadelphia. That was all he knew about her past. He couldn’t even remember ever meeting his maternal grandparents.

He’d had a decent relationship with his father, though. But it was also distant due to Elliot being in his early fifties when Leo was born—he was twenty-five years older than Constance. When his father died shortly after Leo got his MBA, it was expected that he would take over the family real estate business. And he did, for a short while. But with Constance being on the board of directors,she sabotaged him. In less than a year, he left the company—and her—for LA, never looking back.

She never forgave him for that, and he didn’t care. He would never forgive her for robbing him of his inheritance... and he wouldn’t allow her to rob him of this one.

He went to put the groceries away, then settle in for another night in Earl’s apartment. He’d make his spaghetti, eat it on the couch since Earl’s dining table was covered with junk, and watch some cable TV before falling asleep on the sofa, unable to bring himself to sleep in Earl’s bed.

He was used to spending nights alone. He was adaptable too. He’d been on plenty of business trips since he started working at the firm. Whether in his house or a high-end hotel, he never minded being by himself at the end of the day. Until now.

He looked in the direction of Via’s apartment. A hop, skip, and jump and he would be right at her door. And he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Instead he searched for a pot to boil water, finding one inside Earl’s oven, along with other cookware. Seems like his uncle didn’t like cooking. And from what Leo knew so far, Earl spent his evenings alone too.

Monday evening after she closed down the café, Via headed to Second Chapter, Sir Meow in tow. She opened the door to the hallway and stood in front of the bookstore’s side door. Sir immediately started meowing. Leo was inside.

She hesitated for two reasons. She hadn’t been in Second Chapter since Earl died. It had been hard enough cleaning out his fridge in his apartment, even though she’d done that shortly after hispassing. The grief wasn’t as acute now. But Second Chapter was where Earl’s heart had always been, and she wasn’t sure how she’d handle being there.

Then there was Leo. She hadn’t seen him all day, and this morning when she and Sir left for their morning walk, Sir didn’t meow at his door. When they went outside, his Turismo was gone. She was sure he was avoiding her on purpose, and she wasn’t eager for the upcoming awkwardness.

“Meow!”

Not wanting to keep Sir and Leo waiting, she opened the door, and as expected, her cat shot into the shop like a bottle rocket. The lights were on, but she didn’t immediately see Leo. Second Chapter looked exactly the way Earl had left it and the way Leo had described—chock-full of books, magazines, even some posters, all without a scintilla of organization or tidiness. Return patrons likened it to a treasure hunt and said that searching through the stacks, piles, and wonky shelves hoping to find literary gold was most of the fun. There were also plenty of customers who walked in, saw the pandemonium, and immediately walked out. Earl was never offended. He always said that Second Chapter wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

It was definitely Via’s. She loved to read, but for her the main attraction was Earl’s commitment to being a generous bibliophile. That’s what made Second Chapter special. He’d never been in it for the money. Perry Percival would never honor that, and she doubted Leo would be here long enough to understand it.

In the distance Sir meowed, and it sounded like he’d made his way to the back of the shop. She maneuvered seamlessly through the chaos, knowing the layout from all the time she’d spent here. The inventory, however, was still a mystery. Only Earl knew everythinghe had, and he never wrote anything down. She wondered if he was allergic to handwriting. He certainly avoided anything computerized.

When she arrived near the bathroom, Leo was standing in the doorway, Sir Meow weaving around his ankles. “Just checked out the bathroom.” He held up a completely dried-out wax air freshener. “This was the only decorative thing I saw. Under the sink is a stash of TP and a can of bubble cleaner spray, so it’s not completely uncivilized.”

That made her smile a little. So did his gray sweatshirt and baggy khaki trousers. Another Earl outfit, she surmised. The look was straight from the nineties. Leo would have rocked the grunge era.

“I, uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck.

And here comes the awkwardness.

“Meow.” Sir was sitting on top of Leo’s tennis shoes.

Via shook her head. “Sir—”

But Leo had already grabbed the cat, who went limp in his hands, and deposited him on top of a nearby short bookshelf. He gave Sir a quick pat on the head and looked into his eyes. “Stay.”

“He’s not a dog, Leo.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he had—what was it?” He touched his slightly scruffy chin. “Big-dog energy?”

“You remember that?”