Cat Under Fire

But beneath her brazen, redheaded shell she was amazingly tender and gentle. He'd seen her with the cats, kind and understanding, seen her playing with a shy neighborhood pup who usually didn't trust strangers.

Charlie had had a heavy crisis in her life when she realized she had wasted four years on a college degree that wouldn't help her make a living. He thought she was handling it all right. She would, when she met with Beverly Jea

As she turned, he brushed dry leaves off the back of her sweatshirt. "There's a lot to do up there, cleaning up the burn rubble."

"I wouldn't bid on the job if I couldn't do it," she said irritably. Then she softened. "I'm going to have to hustle. All I have is Mavity Flowers, and James Stamps." She removed the last oil can and slammed the hood. "I wish I could get a better fix on Stamps. But he'll do until I can get someone I trust."

"Mavity, of course, is a whiz."

"Mavity has some years on her, but she's a hard worker. She'll do just fine on the cleaning, and maybe the painting. It's the other stuff, the repairs, that she can't handle. That's my work." She picked up the oil cans. "Beverly's in a big hurry, wants the work done pronto, soon as the house is released." She tossed the empty cans in a barrel inside the van. The Chevy's bleached and oxidizing green paint was cracked, dimpled with small rusty dents. The accordioned front fender was shedding paint, rust spreading underneath.

She looked the vehicle over as if really seeing it for the first time, stood comparing it with Clyde's gleaming red 1938 Packard Twelve. "You serious about the Mercedes?"

"Sure I'm serious."

She gri

He followed her in, wondering why Beverly Jea

"Angel cake," she said.

He waited for the automatic coffeemaker to stop dripping and poured himself a cup. From the kitchen he could see through the dining room into the living room, where Janet's landscape dominated the fireplace wall, a big, splashy oil of the village and treetops as seen from higher up the hills, lots of red rooftops and rich greens.

Wilma had paid for the painting in part by designing and planting Janet's hillside garden-she'd had some huge decorative boulders hauled in, and planted daylilies, poppies, ice plant, pere

The house had suited Janet exactly. She had designed and had it built for the way she wanted to live. The big studio-garage space upstairs was co

He watched Wilma select an angel cake pan and pour in the batter. "Why don't you buy Janet's place? You've always liked it. It would be just right for you and Dulcie. You could build a great rental upstairs, where the studio was."

She looked at him, surprised. "I've thought about it." She set the cake in the oven. "But I'd feel too uncomfortable, living in the house where she died."

She poured coffee for herself, and sat down. "And it's too far from the village, I like being close to work." Wilma's cottage was only a few blocks from the library, where, since her retirement, she had served as a reference assistant. "I like being near the shops and galleries, I like walking down a few blocks for breakfast or di

"If I lived up there, it would be a mile climb home after work. Face it, the time will come when I couldn't even do that uphill mile."

"That'll never happen." He rose and refilled his coffee cup. He didn't like to think about Wilma getting old, she was all the family he had. His mother had died of cancer eight years ago, his father was killed a year later in a wreck on the Santa Ana Freeway. He and Wilma were as close as brother and sister, always there for each other.

"Even though I still work out, and walk a lot, that climb up to Janet's can be a real artery buster.

"Besides, I enjoy my garden. Janet's hillside doesn't suit me. That was a landscape challenge, a minimum-care project, not a garden to potter around in. No, this place fits me better." She gri

"And Dulcie loves the garden. You know how she rolls among the flowers." She set a plate of warm chocolate cookies on the table. "I miss her, when she's not here for our midmorning snack. Lately, she's taken to eating a small piece of cake and a bowl of milk at midmorning-when she's home at that time of day.

"But this morning, she was gone when I got up. I wish I didn't worry so about her."

He restrained himself from eating half a dozen cookies at one gulp. "She came poking at Joe's cat door around nine. Looked like they were headed for Janet's."

"I wish she'd just torment the neighborhood dogs the way she used to. Spend her time stealing, and enjoy life." She gave him that puzzled look he had seen too often lately.

"But who can talk to cats? No matter how bizarre those two are, they're still feline. Still just as stubborn, still have the same maddening feline attitude."

He belched delicately.

She sampled a cookie. "Beverly Jea

"They'll stay out of her way. Do them good to get booted out. Though I doubt they can get in-Harper boarded up the burned door with plywood."

"You don't think Beverly would hurt them?"

The idea surprised him and he thought about it. "I don't think she'd hurt an animal. And with Charlie there, she won't."

"Well, if the cats want to… "

They heard Charlie coming down the hall.

Wilma rose uneasily, turned her back, and busied herself at the stove. She had to be more careful. It was hard enough dealing with her own feelings about Dulcie's new talents. But having a houseguest, even if Charlie was her niece, didn't help. She'd barely recovered from the shock of Dulcie's eloquence when Charlie arrived. With Charlie in the house, she was terrified she'd say something to Dulcie and that Dulcie, in her boundless enthusiasm, would shoot back a sharp observation, come right out with it.

She'd talked to Dulcie ever since she'd brought her home as a small kitten. Cats were to talk to. She'd always talked to her cats. When Dulcie's replies had been a rub against her ankle, a purr, and a soft mewl, life was simple. But the first time Dulcie answered back in words, both their worlds had changed.

Now, of course, their conversations were hardly remarkable. Just relaxed remarks between friends.