Kissed by an Angel

He pushed his other hand up under her belly. Ella bit him hard on the wrist.

'Shoot!' He threw Ella across the room.

Philip ran for the cat. The cat ran to Ivy. She scooped her up in her arms. Ella's tail switched back and forth; she was angry rather than hurt. Gregory watched her, the color still high in his cheeks.

'Ella's a street kitten,' Ivy told him, fighting to keep her own temper. 'When I found her, she was a little bit of fur backed against a brick wall, holding her own against a big, torn-up torn. I tried to tell you. You can't come on to her that way. She doesn't trust people easily.'

'Maybe you should teach her to,' Gregory said. 'You trust me, don't you?' He gave her one of his crooked, questioning smiles.

Ivy put down Ella. The cat sat under the chair and glowered at Gregory. At the sound of footsteps in the hall, she scooted under the bed.

Andrew stood in the doorway. 'How's everything?' he asked.

'Fine,' Ivy lied.

'It stinks,' said Philip.

Andrew blinked, then nodded graciously. 'Well, then,' he said, 'we'll have to try to make things better. Do you think we can?'

Philip just stared at him.

Andrew turned to Ivy. 'Did you happen to open that door yet?' Ivy followed his glance to Gregory's secret steps. 'The light for the upstairs is on the left side,' he told her.

Apparently he wanted her to investigate. Ivy opened the door and turned on the light. Philip, growing curious, slipped under her arm and scooted up the steps.

'Wow!' he shouted from above them. 'Wow!'

Ivy glanced at Andrew. At the sound of Philip's excited voice, his face flushed with pleasure.

Gregory stared intently out the window.

'Ivy, come see!'

Ivy hurried up the steps. She expected to see Nintendo, or Power Rangers, or maybe a life-size Don Mattingly. Instead she discovered a baby grand piano, a CD and tape player, and two cabinets filled with her musical scores. An album cover with Ella Fitzgerald's face was framed on the wall. The rest of her father's old jazz records were stored next to a cherrywood phonograph.

'If there is anything missing…' Andrew began. He was standing next to her, puffing a little from the steps, looking hopeful. Gregory had come halfway up, just far enough to see.

'Thanks!' was all Ivy could say. 'Thanks!'

'This is cool, Ivy,' Philip said.

'And it's for all three of us to told him, glad that he was too examine the member to sulk. Then she turned to speak to Gregory, but he had disappeared.

Dinner that night seemed to last forever. The lavishness of Andrew's gifts, the music room for Ivy and a well-stocked playroom for Philip, was both overwhelming and embarrassing. Since Philip, growing moody once more, had decided he would not speak at all at dinner-'Maybe never again,' he'd told Ivy with a pout-it was up to her to express their gratitude to Andrew. But in doing so, she walked a tightrope: when Andrew asked a second time if there was anything else she and Philip wanted, she saw how Gregory's hands tensed.

In the middle of dessert, Suzanne telephoned. Ivy made the mistake of picking up the call in the hall outside the dining room. Suzanne was hoping for an invitation to the house that evening. Ivy told her the next day would be better.

'But I'm all dressed!' Suzanne complained.

'Of course you are,' Ivy replied, 'it's only seven-thirty.'

'I meant dressed to come over.'

'Gee, Suzanne,' Ivy said, playing dumb, 'you don't have to wear anything special to visit me.'

'What's Gregory doing tonight?'

'I don't know. I haven't asked him.'

'Well, find out! Find out her name and where she lives,' Suzanne ordered, 'and what she's wearing and where they go. If we don't know her, find out what she looks like. I just know he has a date,' she wailed, 'he must!'

Ivy had expected this. But she was worn out by the childishness of Philip and Gregory, she didn't feel like listening to the whining of Suzanne. 'I've got to go now.'

'I'll die if it's Twinkie Hammonds. Do you think it's Twinkie Hammonds?'

'I don't know. Gregory hasn't told me. Listen, I've got to go.'

'Ivy, wait! You haven't told me anything yet.'

Ivy sighed. 'I'll be taking my usual lunch break at work tomorrow. Call Beth and meet me at the mall, okay?'

'Okay, but, Ivy-' 'I'd better get going now,' Ivy said, 'or else I'll miss my chance to hide in the trunk of Gregory's car.' She hung up.

'So, how's Suzanne?' Gregory asked. He was leaning against the frame of the door that led into the dining room, his head cocked, smiling.

'Fine.'

'What's she doing tonight?'

The laughter in his eyes told her that he had overheard the conversation, and that this was a tease, not sincere interest in the information.

'I didn't ask her and she hasn't told me. But if you two would like to talk it over with each other-' He laughed, then touched Ivy on the tip of her nose. 'Funny,' he said. 'I hope we keep you.'

Chapter 5

It was a relief to go to work Saturday morning, a relief to be back in territory that Ivy knew.

Greentree Mall was in the next town over but drew high-school kids from all the surrounding towns. Most of them cruised the stores and hung around the food court. 'Tis the Season, where Ivy had worked for the last year and a half, was directly across from the food court.

The shop was owned by two old sisters, whose selection of costumes, decorations, pa-perware, and knickknacks was as eccentric as their style of business. Lillian and Betty rarely returned merchandise, and it was as if all the seasons and holidays had run into one another in one small corner of the world. Vampire costumes hung with the Stars and Stripes; Easter chickens roosted next to miniature plastic menorahs, pine-cone turkeys, and Vulcan ears from the last Trekkie convention.

Just before one o'clock on Saturday, while waiting for Suzanne and Beth to arrive, Ivy was glancing over the day's special orders. As always, they were scrawled on Post-it notes and stuck on the wall. Ivy read one of the tags twice, then pulled it off. Couldn't be, she thought, couldn't be. Maybe there were two of them. Two guys named Tristan Carruthers?

'Lillian, what does this mean? 'For pick-up: Bl Blup Wh and 25 pnc.'?'

Lillian squinted at the paper. She had bifocals, but they usually rode her chest at the end of a necklace.

'Well, twenty-five plates, napkins, and cups, you know that. Ah yes, for Tristan Carruthers- an order for the swim team party. Blue blow-up whale. I've already got it ready. He called to check on the order this morning.'

'Trist-Mr. Carruthers called?'

Now Lillian reached for her glasses. Settling them on her nose, she looked hard at Ivy. 'Mr.

Carruthers? He didn't call you Miss Lyons,' she said.

'Why would he call me anything?' Ivy wondered aloud. 'I mean, why did my name come up?'

'He asked what hours you were working. I told him you take lunch between one and one-forty-five, but otherwise you'd be here till six.' She smiled at Ivy. 'And I put in a few good words for you, dear.'

'A few good words?'

'I told him what a lovely girl you are, and what a shame it is that someone like you couldn't find a deserving gentleman friend.'

Ivy winced, but Lillian had removed her glasses again, so she didn't notice.

'He came into the shop last week to place the order,' Lillian continued. 'He's quite a chunk.'

'Hunk, Lillian.'

'Pardon me?'