Claws For Concern

“I decided to follow the advice of a very sensible and quite attractive man I know,” Helen Louise said as she came toward us from the kitchen. “I’m learning to delegate and let my capable staff take care of things.”

“Good for you,” Laura said as she gave me baby Charlie to hold. “He finished a meal right before we left the house, so he should be content to sleep for a while.” She kissed my cheek.

“Thanks for looking after the baby while we have some time to ourselves,” Frank said. “I’ll go put the bags in the living room.”

“You know I’m always happy to see this little guy.” I gazed adoringly down at my sleeping grandson. I felt like my bones would melt every time I looked at this small miracle in my arms. The same way I had felt with my children when they were infants.

Diesel warbled loudly to let everyone know how happy he was to see the baby. Frank, returning from the living room, laughed at the sight of the cat reared up on his back legs, his front legs braced against my side, as he tried to get a look at little Charlie.

“That cat just about kills me,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a little person in a fur suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animal so in love with a baby before.”

“Diesel is a cat with extraordinarily good taste,” Laura said. “Aren’t you, boy?”

The cat meowed and reached out a paw to tap my arm.

“All right, come on,” I said to Diesel. “Let’s go put Charlie in his crib, and you can keep an eye on him, okay?”

That question elicited happy chirps, and Diesel followed me into the living room. I got the baby situated comfortably in the crib. I gazed down at him a moment, drinking in those perfect tiny features. Then I somehow managed to tear myself away, though I could have stood there for an hour or more to watch him.

When I left the room, Diesel was up on his back legs, looking into the crib. Since the cat was a bit over four feet long from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, he could easily see the baby. I knew he wouldn’t try to get into the crib. He would be content to watch the baby sleep, and the moment the baby stirred, he would let us know.

“. . . lunch at the bistro,” Frank was telling Helen Louise when I walked back into the front hall. “Then a movie. One of Laura’s friends has a small part in it, and Laura has been wanting to see it.”

Laura cast a longing glance in the direction of the living room.

“Have a good time,” I said. “Now, go and enjoy yourselves.” I put my hands on my daughter’s shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “Go.”

Laura laughed and gave me another quick kiss. “Thanks, Dad.” She gave Helen Louise a hug. “I promise we’ll call and let you know if the bistro is in a shambles because you aren’t there.”

Helen Louise made a shooing motion with her hands. “Get out of here before I call Henry and tell him to charge you triple for whatever you order.”

Frank grinned and took hold of Laura’s arm. “We poor academics can’t afford that, so we’d better leave. Come on, honey.” He opened the door and ushered his wife out.

I closed the door behind them. Helen Louise headed for the living room, and I followed.

We stood in the doorway. Diesel hadn’t moved since I’d left him and the baby. The cat’s gaze seemed to be focused intently on the sleeping infant. Helen Louise and I looked at each other and smiled. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and took a picture of the scene to share with Laura and Frank later.

Then Helen Louise and I returned to the kitchen. I was hungry, more than ready for the lunch she had brought.

I refreshed our wine while Helen Louise retrieved the hamper and began to unpack it. I felt my mouth begin to water as I watched. First came the brie, followed by grapes. Next she uncovered a bowl of vichyssoise, the only cold soup I liked. After that, a plate of baked chicken. Finally, a container of French bean salad.

Flourishing the latter, Helen Louise said, “Let me warm this, and lunch will be ready.” She took the container to the microwave. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t do this, but this is best served warm.”

While she attended to the bean salad, I set the table. We started with the cold soup, then moved on to the chicken and the bean salad. Our final course consisted of brie and grapes. During the meal I shared with Helen Louise all that Ernie Carpenter had told me about Bill Delaney, his mother, and the Barber family.

“Horrible,” Helen Louise said when I finished. “Just horrible. I wish they had found the killer. I’d hate to think that person is still walking around free and unpunished.”

“Yes, me too,” I said.

Diesel came into the kitchen, meowing. Over that I heard baby Charlie crying. “Probably needs his diaper changed.” I pushed back my chair and moved toward the hallway. “I’ll go check on him. He can’t be hungry already.” I stopped suddenly as something occurred to me. “What would we feed him if he is hungry? Surely Laura and Frank brought milk.”