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Chapter 15
For the rest of the day, Aria found herself glancing at the clock often. Hunter was coming back at five for their date…er,outing, and she was increasingly jittery with anticipation.
A few customers stopped by, and after lunch, an older woman came into the Cat Lounge with an application to adopt Buster.
“I’ve decided he’s the one,” Edith announced, waving the paper.
“I’m so glad to hear that. Buster is a wonderful cat.” Aria reviewed the application as Edith cooed at Buster as if they were already the best of friends. “I’ll call you as soon as Sue processes your application. It usually takes her about twenty-four hours.”
“Thank you so much.” Edith slipped her purse over her shoulder, giving Buster another pat. “I’m so excited. It’s been a bit lonely at home since Ed passed away. I’ve been thinking about adopting a cat for ages, but haven’t found the right one until now.”
“Buster has been looking for a forever home for a while, so it sounds like he might have been waiting for you.” Aria handed her a sheet of paper. “Here’s the supply list, and of course, don’t hesitate to call me if you have questions. My cell number is there at the top of the page.”
“Thank you so much, my dear.” Edith cast Buster a loving look and headed out into the late-afternoon sunlight.
Aria returned to the Cat Lounge, pausing to stroke Buster’s black-and-gray back. Though she was always thrilled when someone wanted to adopt one of the cats, she couldn’t help feeling a touch of sorrow that the animal would soon leave her care.
As the cat leapt onto the window ledge, Aria saw her sister Rory striding down Mariposa, her boots clomping on the cobblestones and her long black hair loose around her shoulders. She went to open the front door.
“Coming to adopt a cat?” she called. “Oh, wait. You’re the one who can’t keep a houseplant alive.”
“And you’re the one who’d take in a rat if you thought it needed a home.” Rory smirked and strode up the porch steps. “How’s business?”
“Not bad. I just got an adoption application for Buster.” Aria went around the counter and poured a cup of coffee. “Are you working at Mom’s today?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Rory hitched herself onto a stool at the counter and pulled the mug toward her. “I have some coding to finish up tonight, but I wanted to bring you this.”
She pushed a large brown envelope across the counter. Aria eyed it warily. The last time she’d received one of those, the contents had been nothing good.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The stuff I found on Hunter Armstrong.” Rory took a swallow of coffee.
Aria rubbed her hands on her apron. “What did you find?”
“Oh, no.” Rory shook her head. “You want the intel, you need to read it yourself.”
“But is it bad?”
“How would you feel if it were?” Rory studied her for a moment. “Vindicated? Or disappointed?”
Aria huffed out a breath of annoyance. “What difference does it make?”
“Because if you feel vindicated, then you’ll be happy to have something to use against him.” Rory leaned over and grabbed a takeout cup, then poured her coffee into it. “But if you’re disappointed, then you’ll realize that deep inside, you didn’t think he really was a bad guy. And you’ll be upset that you might have been wrong, which will tell you how you feel about him.”
“God.” Aria slumped and rested her head in her hands. “You are such a bitch.”
Rory chuckled and slid off the stool. “Even if you and he hadn’t been totally transparent at the bakery the other day, it would have been obvious that you’re into him. So how much do you want to know?”
Aria grabbed the folder and weighed it in her hand. It couldn’t have been more than a few pages at most, which hopefully meant Hunter didn’t have a lengthy criminal history or a file with the CIA.
Although if he did, she’d have significant leverage in this negotiation. The question was—would she use it?
“Mousehole Friday?” Rory started toward the door.
“Maybe. I’ll text you.”
After her sister left, she turned the envelope around, fiddled with the sealed flap, and tested the weight again. Finally, she went upstairs and pushed the envelope into a drawer in her desk.
