“Good luck bringing that through security.” Jacy chuckled, then hung up.
***
I made the deal.
The commissions brought by these investors would fatten my bank account by nearly double. High on the triumph, I called Jacy from the cab taking me to the airport. She didn’t answer. Her voice mail kicked in, inviting me to leave a message.
“Hey, it’s me. Call me back.”
I reached the airport and my gate. With an hour to kill, and darkness settling in, I called Jacy again. Again, I reached only her voicemail. “Hey, I thought you were working on forgiving me. I got catnip for those damn cats. Is everything okay? Call me.”
During the two-hour flight home, I fretted. Why didn’t she answer? Did that balaclava dude come back? Were Jacy and Declan dead on my floor? Were they forced to run, but left the cell behind?What was going on?
Upon landing, I tried her cell again.
And reached her voicemail.
Nor was she, and Declan, waiting for me outside the airport in my car.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
Jacy
Over and done with the mac and cheese scene, I made a mildly spicy chili for Declan’s and my supper. The fall weather had turned decidedly cold, though the news stations had yet to call for snow. As we ate, Wendy and Peter watched every bite enter our mouths.
“Can I give them some chili?” Declan asked.
“That’s not a good idea,” I answered, picking up our dishes to take to the sink.
“Why?”
“Cats have trouble with some foods we eat. They can get sick.”
“Oh.” The kittens jumped into his lap to investigate any possible leavings on the table. “I don’t want them sick. Can they come with us to pick up Dad?”
“Not this time, kiddo,” I said, rinsing plates and bowls before putting them in the dishwasher. “Cats don’t tolerate car rides well, and they need to get used to them. It’s a long drive. We’ll take them on shorter rides someday.”
“So you’re not leaving?”
I stopped. I stared out the kitchen window into the darkness and rising wind. Though I felt happier, contented, since Avery’s sincere apology, and Declan’s demeanor changed because of it, I hadn’t talked to him about whether I’d stay on ornot. I’d received excellent feedback from a company in Bozeman to work for them, and seriously considered taking the job.
“I don’t know.”
“Please stay. I want you to.”
“I know you do, sweetie.”
Not finding any edibles save bread crumbs, Peter and Wendy took up yoga positions to wash their nether regions, a hind leg sticking straight up from each fuzzy body. Declan watched them avidly as I continued to clean the kitchen.
“We have to leave soon,” I said. “Where’s your warm jacket?”
“In the closet.”
I realized with a jolt that I had no winter coat, having arrived in summer while penniless. “Does your dad have an extra coat I can use?”
“Yeah.”
