The Cat of Christmas Past (3 page)

“As I said before, to recoup my expenses the rents would need to be so high none of the present tenants could afford them.”

I hated to admit it, but the man had a point. A good one. The only reason the people who were in the building lived there was because it was the most affordable rental on the island. If the rents were doubled everyone would have to move anyway.

“I realize it might not be the best business decision, but couldn’t you leave the rents the same?” I suggested. “At least for a while, until the people can make other plans.”

“Why would I do that?” The man sat back down in the chair, but I noticed that the cat had moved to a place by the fire.

“As an act of human kindness,” I said, a question in my voice.

“Bah. Why should I be kind to others when others have never been kind to me?”

I didn’t have an answer to that.

I looked around the room, searching frantically for a solution to the seemingly impossible problem before me. Ebenezer got up from his spot and walked over to a nearby table. There was a book on top, which he swatted to the floor. I joined him and picked it up.

“
A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens. A classic. Are you reading it?”

“Trying. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, I’m afraid.”

I opened the book and looked at the title page. There was an inscription there that read:
To my husband on our first Christmas, Love, Belle.

“You were married?” I asked.

“For a while, a long time ago.”

I closed the book and set it back on the table. I started to step away but then changed my mind. I needed a way to get through to the old man, and if prior experience with Tansy’s cats was any indication, Ebenezer had knocked the book off the table for a reason.

“I can read to you for a while before I leave if you’d like.”

The man looked at me. He appeared to be surprised by my offer.

“Why would you do that?”

I shrugged. “I need to wait for my ride back to San Juan Island. It’s almost Christmas and I enjoy the story of Scrooge. I assume you do as well, considering your cat is named Ebenezer.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“I know,” I answered. “I just thought I’d read to pass the time and I’m happy to read out loud as long as I’m at it.”

“Do whatever you want,” the man grumbled.

I smiled.

I picked up the book and opened it to the first page.

MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did.

I noticed Pottage had closed his eyes as I read. He appeared to be listening to the story rather than sleeping, however. I even noticed a faint smile on his thin lips a time or two. Ebenezer was curled up in his lap, purring loudly as the old man listened to the tale.

After a half hour my phone dinged, indicating that I had a text. Trevor had anticipated that I might have a problem with cell service so he’d come back for me and was waiting at the dock. He indicated that the storm was getting worse and we’d need to leave now or risk being trapped on the island.

“I have to go.” I closed the book. “My ride is here.”

“But you haven’t finished the story.” The man looked more than just a little disappointed.

“The storm is getting worse. I really need to go,” I insisted.

“Will you come back to finish the story?”

I stood up and pulled on my jacket. The trip from Madrona Island was long and not all that pleasant during the winter, but reading to the old man would be a small price to pay if …

“I’ll come back on Monday to finish the story if you promise to at least consider an alternative for the Bayview Apartments that will allow the current residents to stay.”

The man nodded his head.

“Then I guess we have a deal.”

“That book you ordered came in,” Tara informed me as we worked side by side to unpack and catalogue the shipment of merchandise we’d just received for our store.

“Oh, good. I plan to take it with me when I visit Balthazar Pottage on Monday.”

Tara stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. “Are you still determined to get the old man to rescind the eviction letters to the tenants of the Bayview Apartments?”

I shrugged. “I’m going to try. I know it’s a long shot, but I figure I’ll have his undivided attention for several hours when I go back. Once I finish the book, I’m going to insist we talk about the apartments.”

“And you actually think he’ll consider remodeling the apartments at his own expense even though it’s unlikely he’ll ever recover his investment?”

“He might,” I said with more certainty than I felt. “Apparently, Pottage likes to read and has been unable to do so since his eyesight began to fail. I’m going to use that to my advantage and volunteer to go out to the island to read to him every week if he’ll save the apartment building. He doesn’t need the money. Based on everything I’ve heard, he has a ton of it. Being able to have his favorite books read to him might be worth the cost to repair the building to him.”

Tara stopped what she was doing. She turned and looked at me. “You know, there are books on tape.”

“Of course I know that, but I don’t plan to mention it to him. Besides, in spite of his gruff exterior I think he appreciates the company. Even if he prefers to keep his own company most of the time, it must get lonely living out there on that island all by himself. He doesn’t even have a television. I really can’t imagine what he does to pass the time.”

Tara returned to her task. “Are you sure it isn’t dangerous? I mean, he does have a reputation for being disagreeable and he does live alone on an isolated island.”

“He’s like a hundred years old. I think I can take him if it comes down to a fight.” I laughed.

“Unless he has a gun,” Tara pointed out.

I began stacking the empty boxes. The store had gotten a lot busier with the approaching holiday and restocking the shelves had become a regular occurrence.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” I informed Tara. “I had Cody do a background search on him last night just to be sure. He’s really good at digging up any information he needs for stories, so I figured finding out the details of Pottage’s past wouldn’t be all that hard for him. Based on what Cody found out, I think he’s just a bitter old man who’s chosen to shut out the world.”

“Do you know why he’s so bitter?”

“Actually, I think I do. I saw an inscription in the book I was reading to him from a woman named Belle. I asked him about her and he said he was married a long time ago. I’ve since found out that his relationship with Belle ended quite tragically.”

Tara began unpacking the new shipment of pink Coffee Cat Books mugs. “Tragically how?”

I sat back and looked at Tara. “For the story to be truly appreciated I need to back up a bit and start from the beginning.”

“Okay, I’m game. So where’s the beginning?”

I could see I had Tara’s complete attention, and her complete impatience as well. I pushed the box I’d been working on aside and started the next as I began my tale.

“Cody found out that Balthazar Pottage was orphaned at an early age. He didn’t have all the details, but he thought he was around five. After his parents died he lived in a children’s home, which, it seemed from what Cody could find, wasn’t a pleasant place to grow up.”

“Some of those places are pretty nice these days,” Tara pointed out.

“True, but that was a long time ago, and it seems the home he lived in was known for its rigid structure and severe discipline policy. Anyway, when he was old enough to be on his own he got a job and began to save his money. In just a few years he bought his first business, and from that point forward he began to build a financial empire. By the time he was in his midfifties he was still single but had amassed a fortune.”

“I’m assuming this is where Belle comes into the picture,” Tara commented as she sat back and waited for me to continue.

“It is. She was the daughter of a man whose business he’d bought out of bankruptcy. At the time she was thirty-two to his fifty-six, but they fell in love and married. Or at least I know they married. I can only imagine that they fell in love. Anyway, Pottage built her a grand home on the north end of Madrona Island.”

“They lived here?” Tara asked.

“Part of the time. Cody discovered they had homes both on Madrona Island and in Seattle. It seemed as if Belle spent a lot of her time on the island, at least during the final year of the marriage.”

“Are you referring to that old mansion on the point that’s been deserted as far back as I can remember?” Tara asked.

“Yes. That was the home Pottage built for Belle. He abandoned it after.”

“After what?”

“Hang on, I’m getting to it.” I moved over to the coffee bar and began assembling what we’d need for the rush when the next ferry arrived.

“Anyway,” I continued, “Pottage built Belle a grand home and three years after they wed they had a son: Charles. Twenty years ago, when Charles was just six weeks old, he was kidnapped from his crib during a reception the family hosted on Christmas Eve to celebrate his christening.”

“Oh, God.” Tara paled.

“No one ever did figure out what happened to him. Initially the police believed Pottage would receive a ransom note, but he never did. And I’m afraid the story gets worse.”

“Worse how?”

“Five days after her son disappeared Belle was killed in an auto accident. It seems her car slid on the ice just a mile from her home and she was killed instantly.”

Tara cringed. “That poor man. No wonder he retreated from the world.”

“Yeah. I had very little respect for the mean old man, but now I have nothing but compassion. I guess you never know what’s really behind a person’s behavior until you walk in their shoes.”

I returned to the box I had been unpacking, Tara went back to her task, and we worked side by side in silence. Balthazar Pottage’s story was a tragic one that couldn’t help but put a damper on the holiday spirit we’d been enjoying prior to my sharing the sad little tale. I really couldn’t imagine living with the loss of a spouse and a son in such tragic ways.

“Is Destiny coming in today?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject and, hopefully, lighten the mood a bit.

“She’s at the church doing her final exams for the semester. She wants to be done with her schoolwork before the baby comes, so she’s putting in extra time now. I don’t think we should count on her to be able to work here much if at all for the next month or two. Besides the schoolwork, she’s gotten to the point in her pregnancy where she really should be taking it easy. I think we’ll be fine in the long run, but I’m a little worried about keeping up with everything between now and Christmas.”

“Maybe we should hire some temporary help.”

“That might be a good idea. I’m just not sure if we can find someone who wants a job for just two weeks.”

“I imagine most people in the job market are looking for something a bit more long term,” I agreed.

“I suppose we could post a notice in the window to see if anyone’s interested,” Tara suggested. “Maybe we’ll find someone who simply wants a little extra cash for the holiday and doesn’t mind the temporary nature of the job.”

“It couldn’t hurt to put it out there and see what happens,” I agreed. I set the box I’d been working on aside and started on the next one, which contained a selection of holiday pens and colorful journals. “Has Destiny made up her mind about keeping the baby?”

“Not as far as I know,” Tara answered. “She refused to finalize the agreement with the adoption agency, but when I asked her about a shower, she said she probably wouldn’t be needing any baby things. I can see she’s really struggling with the whole thing. In my opinion she probably won’t make up her mind until after the baby is born.”

Although Destiny had just turned seventeen and the baby’s father wasn’t in the picture at all, I felt like she had the support she would need to make a go of it should she decide to keep the baby. Living with Tara seemed to be working out for both of them, and Destiny had done an excellent job as an employee of the store. We planned to keep her on as a full-time employee for as long as she wanted the job. On the other hand, she was a bright girl who could do well in college and could probably pursue any type of career she wanted, though with a baby to care for a college degree probably wouldn’t be in the picture, at least for a while. Destiny’s decision to keep her baby or not would most likely define the direction her life would take from that point forward, so I could understand her need to think it through very carefully.

I could see the ferry nearing the island. It would be docking within the next few minutes. One of the things I loved the most about the location of our shop was that it provided a perfect viewpoint from which to watch the boats as they made their way into and out of the harbor.

“Are you going to the Christmas fair and spaghetti dinner the church is sponsoring next weekend?” Tara asked me as the ferry began its approach.

I nodded. “I volunteered to help with the dinner, and it looks like I’m now in charge of finding a Santa for the event. I thought I’d ask Cody to do it if he isn’t too busy.”

“Seems like he has been lately. Busy, that is.”

“Yeah. I guess I could ask Danny, but I don’t see him being all that good with little kids. I’m not even sure he’s going. It seems like he’s had a lot on his mind lately.”

“I’ve noticed that as well,” Tara confirmed. “I mentioned getting a new dress for the event and he mumbled something about maybe having plans. I’m not sure I’m even going to go.”

“You should definitely go and you should absolutely get a new dress. Don’t let grumpy old Danny ruin your fun. A new dress is part of the fun. I loved getting all dressed up for the fair even as a child.”

“I still remember that red velvet dress you had, with the black faux fur jacket,” Tara commented. “I was so jealous.”

“My mom made that dress. I’m pretty sure she still has it up in the attic. She saved boxes of things from our childhood, assuring us that we’d want them for our own children someday.”

“She’s probably right. You most likely will end up glad your mom saved all your old stuff. My mom isn’t sentimental at all. I don’t think she saved a single item from my childhood.”

I shrugged. “I guess people approach memory keeping differently. She has a bunch of photos of you on her wall.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, it would have been nice to know I had family heirlooms to pass on to my own daughter, should I have one.”

The bell over the door tinkled as a woman in a red coat came into the store.

“Excuse me,” the woman began, “I’m looking for a book, but I can’t remember either the title or the author. Can you help me?”

“We can try,” Tara offered. “What do you know about it?”

“It’s a mystery set at Christmas,” the woman said. “There’s a teacher who dies and an animal rescue worker who tries to solve the case.”

“I think I know the book you’re looking for. The book is called
Christmas Cozy
and it was written by one of our most popular authors. Follow me and I’ll show you to the right shelf.”

Tara led the woman across the store. It appeared she’d guessed correctly because the two women entered into a lengthy conversation about the book. It seemed the woman wanted to buy a dozen copies to use as gifts for the members of her book club.

I turned my attention back to the inventory we’d been shelving. I love the holidays, when there are so many fun and imaginative items to display. Tara had changed the window display a dozen times since Thanksgiving, but she seemed to be having fun with the ever-evolving project.

I watched as the ferry approached the dock. “White Christmas” was playing softly on the loudspeaker, and I realized we might actually have one this year. It had been snowing gently off and on all day. It really wasn’t accumulating on the ground, but it looked pretty fluttering around in the sky. I stood at the window and looked out toward the harbor. Many of the boats had been dry docked for the winter, but there were a few hearty souls, like my brother Danny, who lived in their boats year-round. Of course he bunked at Aunt Maggie’s house during the worst storms, but he didn’t seem to mind the dark and dreary days we often experienced during the winter.

“Did you get the lady all taken care of?” I asked Tara after the customer left the store.

“Yeah, she wanted a dozen copies and we only have three in stock, but she doesn’t need them until next week so I’ll special order them. Did you get the coffee bar ready for the crowd?”

“I did. I noticed we were getting low on the syrup for both the gingerbread lattes and the peppermint mochas. Maybe I’ll order some more.”

“Okay, but don’t over order,” Tara cautioned. “Once Christmas has passed requests for those specialty drinks is bound to decrease dramatically.”

“I’ll just make a note of what we’re low on. I’ll leave it to you to decide what to order.”