Fat Cat Takes The Cake

This time, when the office door opened, no one hindered the eager cat. He knew the nightly routine. In spite of some extra heft around his middle, which some people thought made him look even cuter, he easily leapt to the countertop next to the stove. From experience, he kept away from the burners, even though they were cool now. He was intent on finding crumbs. When dessert bars were transferred from baking pans to display bins, there were invariably crumbs.

Chase watched Quincy, patrolling and purring, with affection. He’d been such a scrawny, frightened little kitten when she first saw him, newly rescued from the beach, where his litter had been abandoned. She had hesitated only a moment, picking out one of the six. Quincy’s large amber eyes spoke to her and, when she picked him up, he snuggled his way into her heart.

She heard her phone dinging. It was still next to the refrigerator. When Quincy finished with the counters, she would disinfect them, but first, she’d better find out who was texting her. She remembered that she had gotten a text earlier and had ignored it.

It was from Julie and read, “Open your mail and call me.”

The mail was in the office where she’d dropped it. Most of it, the part that wasn’t junk mail and more greeting cards, was probably bills, so putting them next to the computer where she paid them was a good place. A wastebasket sat next to the desk for most of the mail.

One piece, though, was not junk, not even a bill. How had she not noticed it when she’d picked out the envelope from the Minny Batter Battle? This one was from Hammond, her high school. She ripped it open as she called Julie.

“A reunion?” she said when Julie answered. “Did you get an invitation, too?”

“Yes, and look at the date,” Julie said. “It’s this coming Saturday!”

“Three days from now? That’s awfully quick.”

“And who has a reunion in December?”

Chase noticed the name on the bottom of the paper. “Guess who? Dickie Byrd.”

“That figures. What do you wanna bet he’s running for some office somewhere?”

“I won’t bet against that,” Chase said. Richard Byrd, always called Dickie behind his back—and sometimes to his face—had been their class president. Not because of his leadership qualities, but because of Monique’s ability to mount an unbeatable campaign. Richard and Monique had married while still in college and Richard was now on the school board. No one who knew both of them doubted that his sights were aimed higher. “Still, if he has a reunion to announce he’s running for office, that’s pretty tacky.”

“I’m going,” Julie said. “There are a lot of people I’d like to see again. So many of our classmates moved out of state.”

“Me included, but I came back.”

“What are you wearing?” When Chase didn’t answer, Julie insisted they go shopping that night. “The stores are still open.”

Chase knew she was in good hands with Julie, a champion shopper. They whizzed through three stores and both went home satisfied.

As Chase readied herself for bed in her apartment above the shop, she went over some of the people she’d gone to high school with. There were some she wouldn’t mind seeing again. But she sure didn’t want to run into Eddie Heath.

TWO

The day after Chase and Julie had gotten their reunion notices, Julie came by for an early morning bike ride. The two best friends enjoyed their bike rides together and didn’t get to do them as often as they would like lately. Julie was settling into her new job and, from what Chase could tell, being in real estate law would mean less stress and fewer hours than working in the DA’s office.

White twinkle lights were strung in the thin branches of the trees that grew along the sidewalks. They weren’t lit now, but the area was a fairyland at night in December. They pedaled down Fourteenth Avenue SE, over to University Avenue, and onto the Tenth Street bridge. When they reached the middle, they stopped to watch the river. Chase always felt something switch on inside her soul, something that glowed with a serene light, when she stood and gazed at the peaceful Mississippi as it flowed beneath her.

“So, what do you think?” Julie asked after a moment.

“About?”

“Is Dickie Byrd running for office?”

“Why else would he call an impromptu class reunion?” Chase said. “It’s fourteen years since we graduated. He couldn’t wait for fifteen?”

“Still, we have to go.”