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"Come and get it, then," Nicholas said.
Maggie sprang from the chair and headed for the kitchen, more than ready for food.
"Wait a second, dear."
Angela's red claws reached for her, and Maggie slunk back, out of reach.
"You have tags hanging off of you," Angela said. "Let me just cut those off."
Maggie glanced at Deena, who shrugged. She moved one foot toward Angela, paused, then pulled it
back. Then she frowned, realizing she was being silly, and darted forward, ending up right in front of
Angela before she could stop herself.
"Such enthusiasm," Angela said. She reached out and fingered the little paper tag hanging from the
waist of Maggie's pants. "Not bad," she said, looking at Deena. "I'm surprised you even knew how to
find the designer sections."
"I'm just full of surprises," Deena said.
"Really? Your outfits are never a surprise. Though they are always . . . unique."
Deena's eyes narrowed and her hands fisted, but she didn't say anything, just stared at Angela.
Maggie didn't understand at all. Deena's gauzy skirts had always been one of Maggie's favorite things.
Whenever Deena sat in a chair and let the multicolored material flow down, Maggie would sit under her,
the edges of the material draping over her neck and ears. And if she was bored, she could always swat at
them. But Angela seemed to be saying that she didn't like Deena's skirts.
She looked at the outfit Angela wore. Navy blue cuffed pants and a jacket with shiny buttons. It was a
lot like something she'd seen one of the magazine girls wearing. But Maggie couldn't figure out why her
clothes would be better than Deena's.
"Can we run through the worst-dressed list later?" Hoop said. "I'm ravenous over here."
"We certainly wouldn't want to keep you from the trough," Angela said. She took a little pair of
scissors out of her purse and cut off the paper hanging from Maggie's clothes. "There you go."
"Food?" Maggie said, her eyes on Nicholas.
He grinned. "All your walking around work up an appetite?" At her vigorous nod, he laughed. "Well,
come on, then. Let's eat on the patio."
"The patio? Nickie, it's raining," Angela said.
Maggie looked at Nicholas, not sure what that had to do with eating.
"The porch is covered," he said.
"It's humid."
"Your fiancee's worried about her creases decreasing and her hair falling," Deena said.
Falling? Maggie cocked her head and stared at Angela's hair, wondering why she hadn't noticed
before that this woman also shed. But her hair was always perfect and her clothes were always neat, so
she must not shed very much, unlike Maggie and her earlier antics in the closet. Then, she'd managed to
shed quite a bit. She concentrated on not smiling, all the while wishing she could tell Deena or Hoop.
Surely either one would appreciate her efforts.
"Her hair? Is that what she's worried about?" Hoop asked. "I thought she was worried about melting."
"The patio was just an idea, Angela," Nicholas said. "We can eat inside."
"No, no. I'm happy to defer to the majority." She smiled at Hoop, a big smile, showing two full rows of
gleaming white teeth. "Besides, if I don't, Hoop might think that all it takes to get rid of me is to douse me
with a bucket of water."
"Great. So it's settled," Nicholas said.
Maggie squirmed, not wanting to take Angela's side even for a little bit but agreeing that being
drenched by a bucket of water wouldn't be any fun at all. She recalled the one time Nicholas had given
her a bath after she'd discovered his fireplace. She'd been wet and cold and extremely unhappy. And
then she'd hid under his bed for six hours, until he finally coaxed her out with fresh tuna and a litany of
sweet talk and apologies.
But sitting on the patio during the rain wasn't anything like being submerged in water, and watching the
rain had never made her shed, so she didn't understand why Angela wouldn't want to go outside.
Angela stood up. "But I'm certainly not going to sit outside in the damp wearing this outfit," she said,
and Maggie tried not to smile at the thought of Angela going back to her home. "I'm going to go change."
Maggie froze, trying to keep her face innocent and her eyes on the ground. Angela walked past her
toward the hallway, and Maggie shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for the ruckus she knew
would come as soon as Angela noticed her clothes.
Nicholas nodded toward Deena. "Grab some plates and things, will you? And there's some wine in the
fridge." He grabbed a sack off the kitchen table, then held the door open.
"Nicholas Goodman!" Angela's voice echoed from Nicholas's bedroom. "Where is that damn cat of
yours?"
Maggie jumped and considered climbing on top of the bookcases. She shook herself, remembering
that wasn't an option, then looked at Deena, Hoop and Nicholas, hoping they hadn't figured out that she
was the culprit. Nicholas was holding the door open, and she bolted through it, desperate to get outside
before Angela came back, even though she reminded herself that Angela couldn't know she was guilty.
The moment she stepped out of the house and onto the patio, Maggie's nose twitched. The heady odor
of damp soil and grass assaulted her senses, and the pitter-pat of raindrops on the metal roof enticed her.
She crept to the edge of the patio and poked at the dripping water. Immediately, her finger was soaked.
She jumped back, knocking against Hoop.
"Whoa there, kid." He hooked an arm around her shoulder and held up a bag with his other hand.
She bit her lip, a reminder that she shouldn't swat at the bag, grab the chicken, and run off under the
bed. No matter how hungry she was, that would be a mistake.
Hoop looked at the bag, then squinted at Maggie. "Hungry?" At her wordless nod, he smiled. "Then
let's eat."
Nick watched as Angela picked apart her chicken breast with the fork she'd insisted Hoop bring out to
her. She took a dainty little bite, then wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin before looking up
and catching his eye across the table.
"I mean it, Nick Goodman. Your cat hates me."
Beside him, Maggie spilled her milk and Hoop snickered.
"Cat's got taste," Hoop muttered into his napkin.
Nick ignored him, glancing instead at Maggie, who dropped her napkin over the puddle and started [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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