“I’ll assume they’re good cats.”
“They aren’t. They’re bad.”
He laughed. “You have a herd of bad cats?”
“Yes.” I laughed, too. “They scratch furniture. They lean on my hands when I’m trying to work on my computer. They meow at two in the morning when they want to play. If I give them food they don’t like, they glare at me and won’t eat it. They follow me around. I’m always being watched. One likes me to meow back at him, as if we’re having a conversation.”
His smile widened. “You have company.”
“Too much company. Anyhow, how are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“What…what are you up to?” I had told my mom not to give me information on Logan. She agreed. She didn’t even know the full truth of what had happened between Logan and me. I knew what she’d do with that information—it would probably involve yelling, a pitchfork, and maybe a tractor running someone over, and it would have made everything worse.
“I’m working as an architect and builder.”
He nodded at the building on my right, which I was familiar with. It was three stories. Very old in a statuesque, historicway. But obviously it had been restored and refurbished. On the ground floor, there was a bookstore and a bakery. I sucked in my breath when I saw the name, Hamilton Architecture, on the door. “This is where you work?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I see. You work on the second floor?”
“Yes. And I live on the third floor.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You seem…surprised by that.”
“I am because I thought you would be living out on your mom’s land. Maybe you would have built a house out there for yourself. I know how much you love it.”
He nodded. “I still love it. I’ll always love our land. It reminds me of her. But…” He paused and took a breath. “My dad is out there, so I’m living in town.”
“Ah. I get it.” And I did. Logan and his father did not get along. His father didn’t get along with anyone, especially me and my family. I decided to change the topic so I didn’t have to think about that. My stomach was beginning to churn as if a tiny grinch were in there, stirring everything around and about. “Panoramic view from up there, right? On the third floor?”
He smiled. “It’s pretty nice. Swan Mountains out the back, Rocky Mountains straight ahead.”
“Congratulations on your business, Logan. It’s very impressive.” I meant that. It was. “I’m not surprised you have your own architectural firm, though. I knew you would. Do you have people working for you?”
“Eight.”
“Wow.” And then I said, “Wow,” again and probably sounded silly. “You’re doing what you always wanted to do. You wanted to design and build, and here you are. You’re talented, Logan. I bet you design buildings like no one has ever seen before. I like this building, too. You chose an old one.”
“Old buildings have more character. And, thanks, Bellini. I…” He paused for long seconds. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s the truth,” I said quietly. An embarrassing thought popped into my flustered brain. “I didn’t know this was your business. I wasn’t waiting for you outside or…”
“I know.”
“I haven’t turned into a stalker.”
“Noted.”
“I’m an odd cat lady.”
“And a writer.”
“Yes.”
