Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) (6 page)

Some piece of cake! Night after
night hiding in these bushes and for what? Not even the sight of him. Just
rabbits, raccoons and that rotten little mutt next door.
But his luck had
to change sometime…

Wait a minute. What’s that by
the corner of the house? Yup, that’s him. At last! That’s right, you come right
this way.
Look at him,
s
trollin’ across the lawn,
sweet as you please, straight for him. A little bit closer and he’d have him.
Just a little bit closer …

Damn!

It’s like the cat knew he was
waiting for him. Almost within reach and then, at the last minute, straight up
into the tree. And now sitting up there laughing at him.

And that rotten mutt next door
is barking to wake the dead, which is what he’ll be if I ever get my hands on
him.

Monday morning arrived much too
soon. Chris had begged off Sunday dinner, unable to face either Alice’s
enthusiasm or James’ depression, and had spent the time trying to think of a
way to save the business.

The factory was a large, square,
brick structure overlooking the lake. It would be a prime site for a developer
wanting to convert it to lake-front condos, he thought.

James met him at the door and
showed him through.

“I’ve always been fascinated by
wood-working. There’s such a sense of satisfaction in feeling something come to
life under your hands,” Chris said appreciatively.

“I know how you feel. To see a
piece of furniture emerge from a block of wood. I never really wanted to be
involved in the management side of the business, but there was no other choice.
At any rate, at least I’ve been able to keep my hand in, until now, that is.”

They watched the men working with
their chisels, lathes and files, each one working on a single piece of
furniture until the final finishing. There was a thin layer of sawdust covering
everything and the rich, pungent scent of wood filled the air.

“This is the finishing room,”
James said as they mounted a flight of stairs to the second floor. “The men use
a special compound and each piece is rubbed for countless hours until a fine,
glossy finish is achieved.” He caressed a table with a loving hand, his pride
in their work evident in every gesture, every word. No wonder that he’d rather
pull out than lower their standards.

“I don’t see any sofas or
armchairs here.”

“No, that’s soft furniture and we
don’t make that. There used to be another company in town, Bolton’s, and they
manufactured the soft furniture, but they went out of business a number of
years ago. We make hard furniture: chairs, tables, bedroom and dining room
suites.”

“It’s marvelous furniture. I’ve
never seen finer. You know, I’ve got a friend, Peter Harrison. We went to
college together but he dropped out part-way through and I didn’t hear anything
of him for years. Anyway, I ran into him when I was home a couple of weeks ago
and it turns out that he’s living in a small town making hand-hewn furniture.
He works mostly in pine and, of course, on a very small scale, but he did say
he wished it were possible to work on a larger scale and with finer woods. I’ve
been thinking about him ever since you spoke to me on Friday, and it’s given me
an idea. There must be many people like Pete, working on their own, who’d like
to work on a larger scale but don’t want to get stuck on an assembly line.
S
o, for a start, I phoned him yesterday and told him about
your company and he’s very interested. I thought it might be possible to hire
Pete and perhaps others like him to fill the gap, and in the meantime start an
apprentice program to bring younger men and women into the business. With the
unemployment situation the way it is, I’m sure there must be a lot of young
people who’d like the opportunity to earn as they learn.”

“It sounds like a good idea, but
I’m afraid there’s no money to fund a program like that, and besides, it still
doesn’t solve the sales problem.”

“You didn’t let me finish. You
remember I’ve mentioned my sister, Connie, the one who is studying to be a
horse vet?”

James nodded, bewildered at how
this had anything to do with their discussion.

“Connie told me once about an
apprenticeship program near Toronto. It was started by a local saddler and it
became so successful that it is now an official apprenticeship program of the
Provincial Government, with funding from the Department of Labor. I’m going to
look into it this week. For now, I think it would be possible for the estate to
give you a loan to get started. After all, it’s in the estate’s interest to
keep the company going, help it show a profit.

“As for sales, it’s true that
your furniture can’t compete in the same market as companies that produce
assembly line furniture, but why should it? There’s nothing that says you have
to appeal to the mass market. You produce fine quality furniture. There’s a
market for that, and judging by the housing that I saw being built in Toronto
last week, it’s a growing market. Any number of good specialty stores across
the country that have upper or upper-middle income clientele would have a ready
market for your furniture.”

“It’s possible, if we could get
the manpower.” James looked at him speculatively, excitement and hope growing
in his face. “You know, high schools all run wood-working programs as part of
their Design and Technology curriculum. It couldn’t hurt to approach them. They
might know some students who’d be interested in an apprenticeship program.”

James’ excitement was contagious.

“I’ll get Pete to call you and
set up an appointment.” Chris promised. “You work out a budget for the
apprenticeship program, and we can get together and discuss it.”

“Good, and I’ll start approaching
the more exclusive furniture stores. I think you’re right. I was trying to run
the company the way my father did. He was able to appeal to a broad market, but
those days are gone. Nowadays, most people can’t, or won’t, afford solid wood
furniture. We’ve got to aim at a different, more affluent market. Come, we can
talk more in my office. I’ll put some coffee on. I had Mrs. Stuart pack some
cookies. I think they’re shortbread,” he added, like a small boy with a special
treat.

And on that happy note, he turned
and led the way to his office.

‘The little bugger is damned hard
to catch’, he thought.

It was the second time he’d
almost had him, only to lose him up the tree at the last minute. He’d waited
half the night the last time, with nothing to show for it but sore feet. The
old bitch with the yappy dog was watching the house again, too, so he’d have to
be careful to stay out of sight.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty ...
Here, Marmalade ... Come see what I have for you in this nice sack … Here
kitty, kitty … Come down here, you rotten cat!”

Just like the last time.
Sittin’ in that tree, laughing. And what’s with those birds? I thought birds
slept at night. Flyin’ from tree to tree … squeaking … Oh, no! Not birds, BATS!

The next week was spent in
feverish activity. Pete called and met James and they hit it off immediately.
Pete was interested in design work for furniture that would appeal to a younger
market using pine and maple which would make it less expensive. They also
discussed updating the look of their traditional pieces while still retaining the
quality the firm was known for.

At the end of the week
Pete
went home to pack his belongings after extracting a
promise from Chris to help him find an apartment in town. James and Chris
worked out a budget and conditions for a business loan to start the
apprenticeship program, and a number of exclusive furniture stores James
contacted expressed interest in carrying the line. By Sunday Chris was as
excited as James with the progress made.

A beaming Mrs. Stuart let him in.
“Welcome, laddie! My goodness but you look pleased with yourself, and I guess
you’ve a right to. Mr. Dunbar is that pleased with what’s happening to his
business and Alice, why she’s as proud as a peacock of him. Even Miss Alicia
has lit up like an electric light, and I don’t mind telling you, I’d begun to
wonder if she was all there, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, she’s definitely all there.”

She was standing at the top of
the stairs, slender and lovely in a pale mauve dress of some clinging material
that molded itself subtly to the graceful curves of her body. A string of
pearls lay around the ivory column of her throat, and her hair was drawn up
into a crown of soft, blond curls. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew pink
under his appreciative gaze. Mrs. Stuart discreetly left the room as she
descended the stairway.

Alicia had watched for Chris’
arrival from the Widow’s Walk at the top of the house. She’d thought of little
else since that night in the garden. It had been a long time since any man had
had this kind of effect on her - the butterflies in her stomach, the
overwhelming desire to see him and at the same time the fear that it would,
once again, go all wrong.

The fact that she had punched him
on the jaw didn’t make things any easier. She still cringed every time she
thought of that moment. It was as if all of the anger she had kept hidden, kept
bottled up inside, had exploded out the end of her fist right into his jaw.

She had barely managed to look at
him since that night. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he must think of her.
How ironic. The one man she had finally begun to have feelings for was the one
who probably thought she was deranged. It took all of the strength and courage
she possessed not to turn and run back to her room.

She hadn’t thought that she would
ever feel this way again. When it came right down to it, she hadn’t really
wanted to. It meant putting herself out there - no defenses, vulnerable - and
it frightened her. But at the same time, she felt alive again and if she wanted
to keep feeling that way then she had to take the risk.

Chris, seeing her standing there,
was certain that his heart had skipped a beat. What did it matter that she had
a mean right hook? He could take a punch. He grinned at the thought, and seeing
that grin, Alicia’s feet that had seemed incapable of movement, suddenly
regained their normal use. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile and
went down the stairs to meet him. Where her feet were leading her, she didn’t
know, but she felt they were leading her in the right direction.

“Welcome back, Chris. It’s so
good to see you.” She smiled impishly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you doubted my
sincerity after the way I’ve behaved the last few times we met, but I can never
tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for my dad. You’ve given him
hope again.”

“I just gave him the idea. He’s
done all the work, and if it’s successful, it will be entirely his own doing.”

She led him through the dining
room out into the garden. “Even so, we know how hard you’ve been working for
us, and I want you to know we’re grateful. Even Marmalade’s been behaving
himself lately. He’s around somewhere. I expect he’ll pop up sooner or later.
Mother’s so happy these days that nothing he does bothers her and it’s really
taken the wind out of his sails.”

Laughing, they strolled through
the flowers and down the path to her ring of birches. The scent of roses
followed them, filling the night air with their sweetness. They sat
companionably on the little bench while Chris worked up the courage to
apologize. But before he could speak, she seemed to come to a decision herself
because she took a deep breath and stood up. “Chris, I feel I owe you an
explanation of why I acted the way I did when you kissed me.” She hesitated
again, wringing her hands.

“You don’t owe me any
explanations. I was the one who got out of line. I came here tonight to
apologize to you.”

“No, it was just a kiss. I don’t
know what came over me. I shouldn’t have hit you. You asked me a question that
day. Why did I come home when Mother sent for me? Well, I wasn’t quite honest
in my answer.” He looked at her questioningly. “You see, when I was at college,
I met a man, Andrew. He was in one of my classes and we had a number of mutual
friends, so we ran into each other quite often. It wasn’t his fault.” She
turned away and he waited at the edge of his seat to hear exactly what wasn’t ‘his
fault’. “I fell in love with him,
d
esperately in love,
or so I thought. I mean, I’d had boyfriends before and thought I’d been in
love, but when I met him, it was different. I was sure he was ‘the one’. It
wasn’t his fault that he didn’t love me.”

Chris breathed a sigh of relief.
Was that all?

“He just thought of me as a
friend.”

“The man must have been crazy.”

“Thank you, but he just didn’t
feel the way I did. The strange thing was that at first he seemed to. I mean, I
thought he was really interested. He always seemed to be popping up wherever I
was. He’d asked me out a few times before I finally said I’d go out with him. I
even met his parents. That whole last year we were inseparable. Maybe I was so
crazy about him that I didn’t want to see that he just didn’t feel the same way
about me. At the end of school, I was sure he was going to ask me to marry him
but then he merely said good-bye, wished me well, hoped we’d see each other
again sometime and walked away. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I was
crushed. My world had just come to an end. It was heart-breaking and, at the
same time, humiliating. It’s funny. In books the heroine always has
half-a-dozen would-be lovers on a string but by the end of the story she always
gets the one she wants, no matter what terrible trials and tribulations she’s
had to go through.
No-one
ever has a heroine that just
isn’t wanted. I thought my life was over. I couldn’t have what I wanted most,
so I just stopped wanting anything. I couldn’t face further rejection or
humiliation, and I guess, deep down, I believed that he didn’t love me because
I wasn’t lovable.”

She took a deep breath. She might
as well get it all out.

“I’m not blind. I have mirrors. I
know I’m pretty - tall, slim, naturally blond. It’s nothing I can take credit
for. I was born this way. Most women have something about their bodies that
they don’t like. This one has big hips, that one has an unfortunate nose,
another has fat knees. I’m lucky. There is nothing I’d change. I never even had
to wear braces. My friends were always a little jealous. But that’s what made
his rejection so much worse. I couldn’t tell myself,
‘W
ell
he doesn’t want me because of my heavy thighs or small
breasts’.
There was nothing physical I could blame it on. He’d obviously been attracted
to me at first. He’d pursued me hard enough. But once he got to know me, spent
time with me, he didn’t want me. Obviously there must be something wrong with
me, with who I am, not what I look like. Something that makes me undesirable or
unlovable. Once I’d reached that conclusion, nothing else seemed very
important. When
M
other sent for me, I was too miserable
to care what I did, too miserable to even think about asserting my
independence, and so I came home.”

“What kind of insensitive creep
would do that to a girl like you?” he asked hotly.

“He wasn’t a creep. I couldn’t
have loved him if he’d been a creep. It would have been easier if he had been.
But he was a great guy who just didn’t love me. The trouble was, the way we
ended didn’t stop me from loving him. If we’d had a big, blazing row, maybe it
would have burned itself out. I’d have been angry and hurt. I would have called
him names, looked for all the faults that I’d ignored, and eventually I would
have got over him. But we didn’t. It would have been easier if he’d been dead.
At least I’d have had closure.”

Privately Chris thought that
seemed to be an awfully extreme break-up scenario, but he wisely kept the
thought to himself.

“But this way there was always
the hope we’d meet again and things would be different. I used to fantasize
that one day the doorbell would ring and he would be there, telling me that he’d
missed me, had always loved me and couldn’t live without me. And so, ever
since, I’ve compared every man I’ve met to him, and none of them could stand
the comparison.” She shook her head ruefully. “How could they? I was comparing
them to a memory - a knight in shining armor, a prince in a fairy tale, a
perfect creature whose faults I hadn’t known or had over-looked. That’s why I
over-reacted the way I did when you asked me what had happened to the prince
and then kissed me. I was furious because I felt like such a fool. And then I
started to think about what I was doing to myself. I had cut myself off from
any feelings. I’d built a wall around my heart and hidden behind it. You know
the song that goes ‘Who needs a heart if a heart can be broken?’? Well that had
become my mantra. I’ve been such an idiot. And I’m not getting any younger.”
Seeing she was serious, he smothered a smile. “I suddenly had a picture of
myself ten or twenty years from now, still dreaming about a man who was married
with half-a-dozen kids, while I had passed by any chance I’d ever had for
happiness. It was a scary picture. It really shook me up - shook me out of
-
what did my grandmother call it?
-
my ‘perennial slumber’.”

“ ‘The mirror cracked’?” he
quoted softly.

“Exactly,” she said, thrilled
that he’d understood. “Just like the Lady of Shallot! I’ve been living life
through a reflection and I’m not going to do that anymore,” she stated emphatically.

“Your grandmother would be very
pleased and very proud of you.”

“I hope so. Anyway, I hope you’ll
understand, and forgive the way I treated you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” and
as
there’d never be a better time, “Since you’ve
decided to mend your ways, will you have dinner with me one evening next week?”

“I’d like that very much,” she
said, blushing. “We’d better go back now. I’m sure my parents will be wondering
what’s become of us.”

James and Alice were waiting for
them in the conservatory, a very different couple from the one he’d first met.
Relaxed and smiling, they were sitting together on the couch. She was leaning
affectionately against
James’
shoulder while he talked
animatedly. They looked up as the young people entered and smiled in welcome.

“We wondered where you’d gotten
to. I hope Alicia’s been entertaining you.” Chris tried not to grin as Alicia
curled herself into a chair, and assured them she had. “Good. Alice has been
dying to tell you about her plans for the house, so please sit down and I’ll go
and ask Mrs. Stuart to bring refreshments out here while I fix the drinks.”

James
left to find the housekeeper and Chris sat down in the seat he’d vacated.

“While he’s gone, we can go over
the plans I’ve made for the house. They’re really coming along. To begin with,
I’ve chosen some new furniture
-
a couple of sofas and
two chairs
-
and I’ve made arrangements to have the
larger of the old sofas recovered. Also, I approached the County Museum and
told them that I might be able to loan them some of the older pieces, and they’re
thrilled. They’ve been after some of these things for years. The furniture
industry has been an important part of the history of this town almost from the
beginning and the Dunbars were the first family. They’ve promised to dedicate a
‘Robert and Amanda Dunbar’ room to be filled with pieces from the house.”

“That’s a wonderful idea! Much
better than putting them into storage.”

“That’s what I thought. And James
thinks he’d like to have a few of the pieces for a showroom at the factory - to
show the history of the company and the longevity of the things they produce.
We’re going to move Mrs. Stuart into the third floor suite. She’ll have more
privacy. There’s a bedroom, sitting room, and a bathroom and she can have her
own furniture. It works out beautifully for everyone.”

“You’ve really thought of
everything. How long do you think it will take?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve already
contacted a local contractor for the kitchen and bathrooms. It will depend on
how fast his crew and the painters and paperers can work. At least a month. By
that time the draperies and new furniture should have arrived. However, when it’s
all done, I’m going to have a special celebration and I want you to be the
first one invited.”

It’s amazing how a little
redecorating can change, not only the surroundings, but also a point of view.
And this was going to be a lot of redecorating.

‘Money well spent,’ he
prophesied. ‘Money well spent.’