A Small Town Christmas Part 82

"You don't look anything like your picture, either," she said and tried not to whimper.

He let go of her hand just before it could wither and fall off. "It was the most recent one I had."

Uh-huh.

"Chuck, party of two," called the hostess.

"That's us." Chuck rubbed his hands together. "I'm starving."

Merilee wasn't. She'd lost her appet.i.te.

"So," said Chuck when the waitress came to take their drink order, "I bet you like those fancy girlie drinks." And before she could say whether she did or not he was ordering a margarita for her. "And I'll have a Corona," he added. The waitress left and he didn't waste any time getting the conversation started. "So, you like cats, huh?" he continued before she could answer. "Did I tell you I've got a cat? It belonged to my ex. Man, I hate that animal."

Wait a minute, how had she gotten matched up with someone who didn't like cats?

It was all downhill from there. Merilee heard about Chuck's ex, the out-of-shape kids he had to teach, how he could have had a career playing pro ball if he hadn't blown out his knee his senior year in high school, why he'd lied about his age. ("Women my age, they're all overweight.") Meanwhile, Merilee smiled politely and asked herself what horrible thing she could possibly have done to deserve an evening with Chuck.

"So, how about dessert?" he offered after the waitress had removed their empty plates. (Chuck had emptied his and then cleaned up the last of her enchiladas.) "You know, this has been nice," Merilee lied, "but I should probably get going." She started to scoot across the bench.

"Aw, don't go," Chuck begged, his voice slightly slurred from his fourth beer. He reached across the table to catch her arm and managed to knock over her untouched margarita, shooting it into her lap and dousing her new clothes.

"Now I really have to go," she said between clenched teeth.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry," he said, grabbing for an napkin. He leaned over to help her mop up and tipped her water gla.s.s, further drenching her. "Aw, s.h.i.+t."

Her thoughts exactly. If Chuck was her perfect match she preferred to stay matchless.

She'd barely gotten home and peeled off her soppy clothes when someone knocked on her door. Who on earth could that be at eight at night?

She opened the door to find Mrs. Winnamucker standing there, wearing her favorite red coat, her gloved hands holding a copy of Cat Fancy. "Your magazine got put in my mailbox by mistake, dear," she began. "I know it's late, but I thought you might want..."

Her eyes got big and Merilee knew in a flash the woman had caught a glimpse of something she shouldn't have. She pushed away the furry, white form trying to slip past her, stepped outside and shut the door behind her. "Thanks, Mrs. Winnamucker. It was kind of you to drop by." She reached for the magazine.

Mrs. Winnamucker s.n.a.t.c.hed it back. "You have a cat in your apartment. I knew it!"

There was no sense denying it. Mrs. Winnamucker wasn't likely to be convinced that she'd been hallucinating. The way she was looking at Merilee made her feel like a bad little girl about to get sent to stand in a corner.

"It's only temporary," said Merilee. "Just until I can find a home for her."

"I'm sorry, but that cat must go immediately."

"But this poor little cat-"

"Needs to live somewhere pets are allowed," Mrs. Winnamucker said sternly. "Really, Miss White. Pulling a stunt like this. It's grounds for breaking your lease, you know."

Merilee hung her head. "I know."

"I want that animal out of the apartment right now, before it can do further damage."

"She hasn't done any damage. She's a good cat. I change her litter box regularly and there's no cat odor anywhere in the apartment."

"Regularly?" Mrs. Winnamucker's eyes narrowed. "How long have you had the thing?"

"Not long," Merilee lied.

"Well, you can't have it a minute longer. The cat has to go, right now."

"But the animal shelter is closed and I don't have keys to get in. I can't do anything tonight," Merilee protested.

"Oh, you can do something. You can turn it loose," Mrs. Winnamucker waved expansively toward the great outdoors.

It was beginning to snow. It was cold and nasty out and, "Something will get her."

"Then take her somewhere," Mrs. Winnamucker snapped, her patience obviously at an end. "You know the rule. Pets are not allowed and I really can't make any exceptions."

Merilee blinked in shock. "It's a heartless rule."

"It's not my rule," Mrs. Winnamucker said primly. "It's Mr. Mook's. And if you have a problem with it, then you should talk to him."

"I think I will," Merilee decided.

"Meanwhile, I expect you to remove that cat from the premises," said Mrs. Winnamucker. "I'll wait."

This was wrong. Horrible! "I can't believe you would be so heartless."

"I am not being heartless, Miss White. I am being responsible, something you have not been."

"Please. It's Christmas."

Mrs. Winnamucker crossed her arms over her ample chest. "I am well aware of that, and believe me, it doesn't make me happy to have to do this. But you've brought it entirely on yourself. Now, I don't intend to stand out here in the cold arguing with you any longer. Are you or are you not going to get rid of that animal?"

"Fine," Merilee said through gritted teeth, and went back inside her apartment to fetch Queenie. Since Queenie was still hovering near the door, this wasn't difficult. "You wanted to go out," she said as she scooped up Queenie and put the animal in its carrier. "It looks like you got your wish." If Queenie didn't have a fixation with that door, if she'd stayed in the living room like a sensible cat they wouldn't be in this mess now.

Queenie let out a pitiful mew.

Poor little kitty. What was Merilee going to do with her?

"I'll walk you to your car," Mrs. Winnamucker offered as Merilee stepped back out the door.

"That's nice of you, but I can manage," Merilee said, trying desperately to keep her grip on the cat, her purse, and her temper.

"It's no trouble," said Mrs. Winnamucker. "And I wouldn't try sneaking that animal back in again," she advised after Queenie had been loaded in the backseat. "Not if you want to remain here."

Merilee said nothing in reply. She got into her car and drove off, a little faster than necessary. Her departure sent up a spray of slush, dousing Mrs. Winnamucker and making her yelp. Merilee smiled grimly. Merry Christmas to you, too.

And now what?

ELEVEN.

Zach was sitting in his living room, staring unseeingly at his TV screen and wondering if he was indeed going to turn into another old man Turner when the doorbell rang. Who the heck could that be?

He dumped Tom from his lap and went to open the door while Tom stalked off to the kitchen.

There on the front porch stood Merilee. The expression on her face told Zach that the world had just come to an end. Her eyes were red, her makeup was streaked, and she was sniffing. And she was holding a cat carrier. A little white face looked out at him and the animal let out a pitiful yowl.

"Could I come in for a minute?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah, get in before you freeze." He swung the door open wide and she stepped into the entry hall. "What's wrong?" Whatever it was, he was already determined to fix it.

She bit her lip and a fresh tear leaked from the corner of her eye. "I've got a problem. I've just been driving around and calling people and I've run out of people and..." That was as far as she got before she started to cry.

Zach gathered her in a hug. Her hair smelled like shampoo and fresh air and she fit in his arms like she'd been designed for him. Don't go there.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," she managed between sobs.

"It's no bother. Come on and sit down." He led her into the living room and settled her on the couch with a roll of toilet paper that he snagged from the downstairs bathroom. Cla.s.sy, Zach. But it was the best he could offer. He sat down next to her. "Tell me what happened."

She did, in halting sentences, dabbing at her eyes with the toilet paper.

"That old woman has no heart," he said in disgust when she finished.

"I didn't mean to end up here, I really didn't," Merilee said miserably. "But you did say if I needed anything ... I tried everyone else I could think of."

She'd come to him last. That was sad. Of course, after their conversation the other night it was a miracle she'd even come to him at all.

"My sisters aren't home," she continued. "Not that they'd take her anyway. Neither one is much of a pet person. My mom is allergic. My friends from the store all have dogs."

"What about the guy who works at the animal shelter?"

"Joel," she supplied, and blew her nose.

"I bet he likes cats."

"He does, but he has three already."

"Well, then, what's one more?" Zach said cheerfully. "Let's give him a call. I can run you and Queenie over."

She was shaking her head now. "I tried him. He said if he takes in one more cat Anders will leave him. They fought over the last cat he rescued." She turned big, green, tear-filled eyes to Zach. "Could you help me and keep her just for tonight?"

Zach rubbed the back of his neck. He never meant to keep Tom. Now here was another cat. But it was just for one night. He could take in a stray cat for one night.

"I can't turn her loose to get eaten by a coyote."

"Don't worry. I'll keep her." And what if she asked him to keep Queenie permanently? He probably would for Merilee's sake. Oh, man. What was happening in his head?

She dabbed at her eyes again. "Tomorrow I'm going to talk to the owner of the Angel Arms and convince him to let me keep Queenie."

Merilee the elfette was a determined little thing. For all he knew her landlord was a hard-a.s.s and she'd be talking to the wind, but looking at those big eyes, that tear-stained face, Zach didn't have the heart to suggest the possibility of failure.

"I'll come by and get her first thing tomorrow morning, I promise."

"No problem," Zach a.s.sured her.

Letting this woman go on her mission alone felt a little like sending Dorothy off to go have tea with the great and terrible Oz. "I'm free tomorrow. I'll go with you," he offered. Just as a friend. They could be friends.

With benefits? No, no benefits!

"You don't have to," she said. "I'm already bothering you enough."

"It's no bother." He wanted to help Merilee. What was it about this woman?

"No," she said firmly. "You're doing enough keeping Queenie tonight." She laid a hand on his arm. "Thank you. So much." She looked at him like he was some kind of superhero.

"My pleasure," said Zach. Once upon a time the word pleasure would have made him think of Blair. Tonight, a very different woman danced into his fantasy. His gaze strayed to Merilee's mouth. Those lips. He swallowed. Was it getting warm in here? Would she like to take off her coat? Would she like to take off something else? He stood suddenly, clearing his throat. "Well, then, is there anything I need to do to you, er, for her? The cat?"

Merilee's cheeks turned pink as she stood up. "No. Maybe keep her separate from Tom. You never know how a cat will act when a new cat comes into the house."

"She's pretty cute," said Zach. "I can imagine how he'd act." The same way he wanted to act right now. Merilee had nice legs. The top half of her was pretty d.a.m.ned nice, too. She had to be hot in that coat. He could just reach out and unzip ... Stop that!

Zach ditched his four-legged houseguest in the laundry room just as Tom arrived on the scene, all curiosity. "She is not for you, dude," he informed the cat.

He said the same thing to himself as he returned to walk Merilee to the door.

They stopped in the hallway as if by mutual consent. She was wearing some kind of perfume that reminded him of flowers and bubble baths. Suddenly he pictured Merilee in a tub full of bubbles, wearing a Santa hat. Then, Merilee stepping out of a tub full of bubbles, wearing a Santa hat-better than visions of sugarplums. Joe c.o.c.ker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On," began to play in his head. It was definitely warm in here. Zach swallowed hard. No more Santa hat visions, he told himself firmly.

"Thanks again for helping me out," she said in that sweet, soft voice. "It's a relief to know Queenie will be okay for the night. I'll come by tomorrow around nine and get her, if that's all right."

He nodded. Then he said, "You know. I don't think you ever told me your last name." You don't need to know her last name, d.i.c.khead. What the h.e.l.l are you thinking? Dumb question. He was thinking about Merilee in a Santa hat, of course.

"It's White."

Her lips puckered up so temptingly when she said her last name. Zach swallowed again. Then cleared his throat. Then nodded. "Okay. That's, uh, good to know." But it wasn't enough. "Maybe I'd better get your cell phone number. Just in case Queenie has a problem or something." Somebody here already had a problem and it wasn't Queenie.

"Good idea," she said, and gave it to him. "And maybe I should have yours. In case..."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Just in case," and gave it to her. She dug a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote it down.

Zach didn't need any paper. He already had Merilee's number committed to memory.

"I guess I'd better go," she said, standing right where she was.

"Yeah, I guess you'd better," he said, standing right where he was.