“George!” Margaret yelped. “Come back here!”
George tore through the office after Cleopatra, who leapt onto Augusta’s desk. So did George. He skidded across the polished surface, scattering papers everywhere.
“George!” Margaret cried. “Come here this instant!”
“Someone grab Cleopatra!” Josie shouted, making a beeline for the cat, trying to cut her off. Cleopatra dove under a desk as George gave chase.
The dog thundered after the cat around the office, then straight into the parlor and the staircase leading to the upper floors.
“Great Scott, is the door on the landing closed?” Augusta asked.
“Yes, thank goodness,” Josie said. She shot Margaret a look sharp enough to cut fabric. “Get that dog under control, sister!”
“Right away!” Margaret hurried into the parlor. George was barking frantically. Cleopatra hissed from somewhere up high, then a yelp of pain came from George, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.
“Oh, that better not be our lamp!” Augusta huffed. She and Josie rushed into the parlor. It wasn’t the lamp that had shattered, but an old vase that belonged to their mother.
“Not Mother’s vase!” Augusta cried.
“I’m so sorry, sisters.” Margaret winced. “George, sit!”
Josie rushed forward, snatched Cleopatra off a bookcase, and hurried her out of harm’s way.
Margaret had George by the collar, struggling to restrain him.
“If that beast is going to stay here, he needs to get along with Cleopatra. Otherwise he’s got to go!” Josie spat.
“But he doesn’t have a home,” Margaret said, near tears. “Well, he does, but he’s lost. He needs us!”
“Oh dear…” Josie’s voice drifted from the office. “Just look at this mess!”
Augusta and Margaret hurried to join her, George dragging the latter behind him.
Augusta blanched. “Oh no.”
Papers and files were strewn everywhere. Every desk had been cleared of its contents as though a cyclone had blown through.
Margaret swallowed hard. “Oh, George…” George looked up at her and whined.
Josie and Augusta glared at the dog. “It’s going to take us days to sort this out,” Josie said. “Maybe weeks. Val had everything perfectly organized. How are we supposed to make sense of any of this?”
Margaret gulped again. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it all out in time. And George didn’t mean it. He’s a dog. Dogs chase cats.”
Josie spun on her, face red with anger. “You don’t understand. With the six brides Val’s escorting to Wild Rose Ridge, I think we’re beating her numbers this year!”
Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. “Numbers?”
“Yes,” Josie said with an eyeroll. Mrs. Pettigrew’s numbers. Or have you forgotten?”
Margaret gave Josie a sheepish look. “I don’t pay attention to all of that like you do.”
“Well, you should,” Augusta scolded. “Adelia Pettigrew’s is the top matchmaker in the country, and if we can beat her, what a boon that would be…” She broke off, eyeing her desk, then the piles of papers around it. “Well. At least we have Val’s emergency list.” She glanced at the coat rack, then Margaret. “Take off my coat, sister, and hand it over.”
Margaret complied and passed it to her.
Augusta shoved a hand into one pocket, then the other. Her face drained of color. “Oh no. Where is it?” She searched the pockets again. “Margaret!”
Margaret lifted her hands in a panicked shrug. “I didn’t do anything! All I did was get the sugar.”
