been a joint venture with Judith’s friend and neighbor, Arlene
Rankers. Her husband, Carl, had retired two years earlier,
and their family of five had expanded. The quiet leisure years
they’d anticipated had turned into a merry-go-round of
grandchildren crawling around in the laurel hedge that separated the Rankers and Flynn properties. Arlene no longer
had the time or the energy to help run a full-scale catering
service, and Judith couldn’t do it without her.
“I really don’t think I can manage on such short notice,”
Judith said at last. “Isn’t the retreat this weekend?”
“Right, over the three-day Martin Luther King holiday.”
Renie paused. “It’d be for only a day, actually. All you have
to do is set up the first meal on Friday, then stock the fridge
and freezer and whatever. The rest of the weekend is…”
“More coffee please,” came a request from the dining room.
“Do you have powdered sugar?” called another guest.
“There’s something gruesome crawling around under the
table,” complained a third, rather frantic voice.
Judith hadn’t heard the last part of Renie’s explanation.
“Coz, I’ll get back to you in half an hour,” she said, feeling
a touch of panic.
The coffee and powdered sugar were delivered, then Judith
dove under the big oak table to retrieve her cat, Sweetums.
The cat arched his back, hissed, and began rubbing against
the sheer stockings on a pair of rather hefty legs.
“Eeek!” cried a voice somewhere over Judith’s head. “My
hose! I’m being attacked by an animal! I feel fur and disgusting warmth!”
“What is it?” inquired an anxious male voice. “Not a porcupine, surely.”
Judith grabbed Sweetums with both hands and dragged
him out from under the table. “Sorry,” she apologized again.
“My husband must have let him in when he went to work.”
“I hate cats,” said the woman who had first complained.
“Cats carry all kinds of dread disease,” stated a man at the
end of the table.
“That cat looks mean,” remarked a woman who was
sprinkling powdered sugar on her pancakes. “Is he rabid?”
Sweetums was now sitting by the swinging doors, his long,
fluffy tail curled around his large orange, white, and gray
body. The yellow eyes narrowed and the whiskers twitched.
“He’s a very healthy cat,” Judith declared in a defensive
tone. “I’ll take him outside. Come on, Sweetums. Let’s go
eat some birds.”
A gasp went up from some of the guests. Judith immediately realized she should have kept her mouth shut. But this
time she didn’t apologize. Nudging Sweetums with her foot,
she guided him into the kitchen, down the narrow hall past
the pantry and the back stairs, and out onto the porch.
Sweetums balked. It was extremely cold, as befitted the
