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Roses
April gazed at the flowers, sightless. Caramel somersaulted across the floor like an orange tumbleweed when the tissue kissed the floor. April woke from her reverie and regarded the cat at play. She held the box away. “What shall I do with you? Too pretty to throw away—who sent you?”
The cat gave up on the shredded paper mess. Meow? Eyes luminous black slits, he stared up into her face. An ear twitched and he cocked his head. Meow?
April blinked and squinted at the cat with recognition this time. “How late is it? Haven’t I fed you yet?” Still gripping the box at arm’s length, she spun toward the kitchen. “Come on.” He galloped ahead and pitched into his empty bowl by the fridge. April waved the box back and forth as if glued to it. At last she dropped it on the table with a kerplunk, then rubbed palms on her trousers. The cat wove back and forth around her feet as she filled his dish.
Hands on hips, April studied the table again and nodded.
She arranged the roses in a crystal vase Henry had given her long ago. With the tip of her forefinger, she caressed a stem. Oh, Henry, I—
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony interrupted Caramel’s vigorous crunching. April jumped and retrieved her cell. Leaning against the black granite counter, she pursed her lips. I don’t know who this is. She put it down in a rush as if it had seared her hand.
The cell resounded again fifteen minutes later. Jittery, she picked it up. The same number flashed on the screen. As well, there was a message from her lawyer she hadn’t noticed before.
Part 3 Next Time
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