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But Colin had disconnected. The ma?tre d’ returned to the Mayor’s table, with lead in his shoes. “I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Mayor,” he said, sweat trickling down his spine, “but they’re all out.”

“Not even a slice?” asked the Mayor, suddenly losing a lot of his bluster.

“Not even a slice.”

“But surely…”

The ma?tre d’ shook his head mournfully. “Alas.”

“Oh, no,” said the Mayor, his fingers reaching for his mustache. “This can’t be happening.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“I’m not going to get my slice today, am I?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I haven’t missed my daily slice in twenty-five years, Wallace, do you realize that?”

“I do realize that, Mr. Mayor.”

The mayor stared at the white hair he’d just pulled from his mustache with a horrified expression, then allowed it to fall from his limp fingers and flutter to the nice oak wood floor below. He reached for his mustache and pulled at the next hair. Wallace eyed it with a wealth of feeling. Before him sat a broken man, and they both knew it.

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“We need new Duffers, Chris,” said Colin the moment he put down the phone. “Even the Mayor is starting to make a fuss.”

“You know as well as I do that the meat has to cure,” said Chris. “Which takes time.”

“How long?” asked Colin, even though he knew the answer as well as his brother did.

“We’re still collecting the ingredients, fine-tuning the machines. Two weeks at least.”

Colin thought about this for a moment. The meat had to cure, that was the key, and they needed to add their secret ingredients to create the exact mix their grandfather had perfected, the recipe of which had been handed down from generation to generation. That would take another couple of days, and only then could they start creating their uniquely flavored Duffers, which came in three sizes: the M, the X and the XL. And for very special customers, like the Mayor and other dignitaries, they also created the XXL.

“We should probably whip up two batches,” he said. “With the kind of demand we’re seeing we’ll run out as soon as the first batch hits the store.”

“Which is great, isn’t it? We’ll be able to raise our prices again, and pretty soon we’ll be making a lot more money by selling a lot less product, which is all to the good.”

Chris was right, but still.“You don’t know how frustrating it is to send customers away, Chris. You’re not in the store day after day, having to see the disappointed look on their faces, or to listen to their daily laments. I had to send a dozen away this morning alone, and I’m sure that half of the ones waiting until we open again will have come for the Duffer.” He gestured to the display window, through which they could see a line of two dozen customers already lining up until the shop opened again after the lunch hour.

“Just tell them we’re out. And that we’ll have fresh stock hitting the store soon.” He patted his brother on the back. “This is simply business ABC, Colin. When demand trumps supply, that’s when people get rich. So enjoy it, and don’t fret so much.” When Colin made to say more, he held up his hand. “I’m on it, all right, little brother? I’m on it.”

Colin watched his brother stalk off through the kitchen, and shook his head. Chris didn’t understand what it felt like for a people pleaser like him to have to disappoint people. He hated it. In fact he hated it so much he had half a mind to close the store until they were fully stocked again with fresh Duffers. But of course he couldn’t very well do that. So he walked to the door, turned over the Open sign, and unlocked the door.

The first question the first customer asked, a hopeful smile spreading across her face, was,“Are the new Duffers in?”

Chapter 15

“But I don’t want to go to the pound, Max!” Dooley was saying.

“I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding,” I told my friend. “As soon as we arrive at the pound they’ll see we’re not strays, and they’ll call Odelia and get this all sorted out.”

“We are chipped,” Dooley reminded me.

“I know, Dooley. I was there when we were chipped, remember?”

He nodded anxiously, then glanced at the other collection of cats that were in there with us. They were cats of every possible persuasion: American Shorthair, Maine Coon, Serengeti, Ocicat, Highlander, California Spangled, Munchkin, Ragamuffin… Name one and it was represented in the van. In fact it wasn’t too much to say the van was like Noah’s ark, if Noah had only been interested in collecting one of every breed of feline.

I recognized a lot of familiar faces. Shanille was there, the director of cat choir, Tom, the butcher’s cat, Misty, the electrician’s cat, Tigger, the plumber’s cat…

“We’re all chipped,” said Shanille, “and we’ll all be released the moment the director of the pound realizes his overzealous workers have made a terrible, humongous mistake.”

“And then they’ll all be fired,” said Tigger. Tigger’s human is an alcoholic, which is probably why he’s always a little on edge. He was definitely on edge right now.