Fur-miliar Felines Page 15

  “Okay. It’s picture time,” my aunt announced. “Now, everyone crowd together, and I’ll get all you lunatics at once.”

  We laughed as we huddled together, Bea and I in the center, holding hands like sisters and looking as complementary as ever in our red and green. My aunt, trying to sort through this dimension and the others she could see, laughed and instructed Jake to stand up straight and me to move a little to the side and Blake to stoop down a little and Kevin to come forward and Bea to scoot back until finally it was perfect and she snapped away.

  She had Jake take one of the three Greenstone women. Of course, Bea and Jake posed as though they were at prom and the teachers weren’t looking, getting all lovey-dovey and gazing with dreamy eyes at each other. Then Jake and Blake stood together, thankful they were partners on the force and thankful they were alive after some of the experiences they had over the year. Kevin posed with the never-ending goblet of toddy at the oven in the kitchen, and even the cats stayed on their shelves for a couple of quick shots before hopping down to investigate the fresh green catnip plants Jake had for each of them.

  “So it looks like it’s just you and me, cowboy,” I muttered to Blake as my aunt adjusted her camera.

  “Why don’t you let her take a picture of you alone first. I’m sure she’d like to remember you in that dress.”

  Yes, my cheeks flushed. Of course they flushed. Anyone’s cheeks would blaze up at a comment like that. I posed for my aunt, who was eyeing me suspiciously with her own smirk on her lips.

  “You two stand over there by the entrance to the basement. And jazz it up. This ain’t no funeral.”

  “Oh my gosh. My aunt is drunk,” I muttered.

  “Then we better do as she says.” Blake took my hand and led me over to the basement door. But before I could strike a stiff and awkward pose with Detective Blake Samberg, the man I love to hate, I saw him point up.

  I looked at what he was showing me and swallowed hard. Mistletoe.

  Merry Christmas

  Before a snide remark or sarcastic quip could enter into my brain, Blake Samberg slipped his arm around my waist, dipped me backward, and kissed me full on the lips. I heard my aunt’s fancy camera snap the picture, forever documenting the moment as well as Bea and Jake and several customers whooping and clapping and carrying on as though they’d never seen a romantic, sweeping kiss ever in their lives.

  When he lifted me back up, I wanted to die. No, I didn’t. I wanted to do it again, but I’d never breathe a word of that to any soul, living or dead. Not even Treacle would know that the urge to continue that kiss ever existed.

  “Merry Christmas, Cath,” he whispered, his own cheeks slightly pinker than normal, and there was a silly grin on his lips.

  “Merry Christmas, Blake.”

  Coolly, he adjusted his tie and swaggered back toward Aunt Astrid, whom he whispered something to, and then went and grabbed his coat. I went to my aunt to review all the photos she had taken over the course of the night, keeping Blake in the corner of my eye.

  “Please reconsider coming by for Christmas dinner,” Aunt Astrid said as Blake came to give her a hug good-bye.

  “I’ll do my best.” He smiled and kissed her on top of her head. He gave me a wink that I found a little suspicious and planned to interrogate my aunt at the soonest opportunity. But for now I only had one question for her as Blake walked out the door, adjusted his collar, and thrust his hands in his pockets as he headed toward his old car.

  “What did he whisper to you?” I folded my arms. “And don’t try to lie. I can do a binding spell, too.”

  “He wanted a copy of that photo of the two of you.” She said it as though he had asked for a slice of pie to take home.

  “Oh.”

  “Something wrong?” She looked at me, and I was sure she knew what I swore I’d never tell. That was that I wanted that kiss to continue.

  “No.” I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. “It’s just kind of funny since my present for Tom…”

  It was almost eleven o’clock at night. Another half an hour, and I would have been home with my Christmas tree lights on, snuggled in my jammies, with Treacle on the bed, It’s A Wonderful Life playing on the television until I fell asleep. But Tom made it in just in time.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said carefully.

  Tom looked me up and down, and I was sure after all the night’s festivities and excitement that I looked a fright. If I did, he liked it.

  “Merry Christmas, Cath. You look beautiful.”

  “Tom, better late than never.” Jake clapped him on the back. “Let me help you with those.” He took a large grocery bag from Tom’s good arm and placed it with the arsenal of others we had collected. But not before knocking on the cast that he had on his other arm.

  Aunt Astrid and Bea gave him big holiday hugs, and even Kevin came out of the kitchen for a minute to give Tom a hug and warn him against my aunt’s holiday potion.

  Finally, everyone left us alone.

  “You didn’t call me back.” He stared at me. “I was afraid you were mad at me for following you and trying to help with that big, uh, thing.” He frowned.

  “I got your message that we weren’t going to the Policeman’s Ball. I thought you were calling it quits because of that big, uh, thing.”

  “I don’t understand. I said we weren’t going because the medicine the docs gave me was too strong and I didn’t want to look drunk or inebriated while I was with you.” Tom blinked. “Everyone would think you drugged me in order to take advantage of me.”

  “What?” I snapped. “You didn’t say that.” Then I snapped my fingers. “Wait. I didn’t listen to the whole message. I thought you were giving me the boot, so when I heard you say we weren’t going to the ball, I just assumed that was the end of it.”

  “Are you crazy, Cath Greenstone? Is that your problem?” Tom pulled off his jacket and winced as it got caught on the cast.

  “Wait,” I barked again, frustrated with myself and embarrassed over the whole situation. “Let me help you with your jacket. You want some eggnog?”

  Tom smiled that devilish, sly smile. He was loving every minute that I was squirming and slowly nodded as he took a seat at the counter. I came back with two glasses that we clinked together and toasted to our stupidity.

  “Do you really think I believed you were going to dump me for a guy like Clyde?” Tom teased. “You are going to have to try a little harder than a couple of harsh words to get me to turn tail.”

  “But Aunt Astrid said that you were mad and looking for me, and when you saw me walking with him, you just went all Rambo-testosterone-alpha-male.”

  “Well, I might have been a little bit jealous for a split second.” He sipped his eggnog and raised his eyebrows. “Had I seen you in this dress first, I would have been insanely jealous.”

  “I bought this for the ball,” I said, smoothing my skirt. “That no one took me to. All dressed up and nowhere to go, I guess.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” My eyes popped open, and I hopped off the stool. “I have something for you.” I dug into my purse and pulled out the rectangular box I had been struggling to wrap.

  “For me?” Tom smiled.

  “No. For your Aunt Tilly. Yes, for you.”

  He furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue at my sarcasm, making me laugh as I quickly refilled his mug with eggnog.

  “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I didn’t want to get you a tie.”

  Tom stared into the box with the tissue paper pulled aside and said nothing.

  “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable,” I said, not sure how to read his reaction. “I mean, buying for girls is so much easier. We all like pretty things and stuff that smells good. You dudes can be pretty tricky.” I swallowed hard.

  “What have you got there, Tom?” Bea asked innocently as she scooted behind the counter.

  “Cath’s present.” Tom grinned and wiped a tear from his cheek.


  Bea looked at me quickly then leaned over the counter.

  “What is it? She didn’t tell any of us.”

  Tom pulled the simple gilded frame out of the box and held it up for Bea.

  “Cath.” She gasped. “That’s beautiful.”

  In the frame was a black-and-white picture of Treacle and me, surrounded by a forest-green matte.

  “It’s not too snooty, right, to give you a picture of us?”

  Tom shook his head.

  “Because I asked Bea, and she was so busy buying Christmas socks and drawers for Jake that she really wasn’t any help.”

  “Advertise it, why don’t you,” Bea sniffed.

  “Why not? You did,” I snapped back, making her laugh as she put on a cup of coffee. “I just thought that even if these things that have been happening between us—I’m talking about the bug-a-boos and heebie-jeebies—even if they get to be too much for you, I hope we’ll always be friends.”

  “I hope we’ll always be more than that.” Tom leaned over and kissed me. My heart exploded in my chest, and I wanted to cry and laugh and sing off-key, all at the same time. In that moment, I heard the sound of trumpets and choirs singing and even jingling bells. Okay, it was the music over the speakers, but it was nonetheless inspiring.

  When I leaned back and caught my breath, I realized the door had opened and closed quickly, causing those bells to jingle.

  “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” I recited the famous line. “Name that movie, Bea.” I looked at my cousin, who had a sad look on her face. “You okay? What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head and smiled brightly. “I was just thinking of all the folks who don’t have enough food and how maybe we helped just a little tonight.” She jerked her thumb at the mountain of food collected for the Wonder Falls Food Pantry.

  “I can help you deliver it all,” Tom volunteered. “All that should fit just right in the back of my truck. When do they need it by?”

  “Really, Tom? It’s no trouble?” I asked.

  “I’ll just need someone else to load it, but it won’t be any problem at all.” He pushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek.

  “Well, all right.” I hopped off the stool and recruited Jake and Kevin to load everything onto the truck. Bea had called Mrs. Wimby, the woman who oversaw all the donations at WFP. They were indeed open late due to all the last-minute givers who got the Christmas spirit at the eleventh hour.

  Once everything was loaded, I kissed everyone good night, even Kevin Baker, and climbed aboard Tom’s trusty steed with four wheels and headed off to the food pantry. Maybe the dragon he was ready to slay was a monster of my own making. That creature of pessimism and negativity and isolation tried to rear its head, and in just a few words, Tom lopped off its head.

  I felt my own miracle. It was tiny and wouldn’t change the course of the world as the real Christmas miracle off in a tiny manger did. But it didn’t make it any less wonderful. I finally felt as if it was possible for me to have a normal life. Well, not normal-normal. No Greenstone could ever have a normal life. It was impossible.

  I meant a life like my mother had, like Aunt Astrid had, like Bea had. I could have someone in my life who accepted me as a witch—should I say it? Warts and all? I just did. Not only did he accept it, but he also respected it. If that wasn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.

  After we dropped off the food at the pantry, we went back to my house and, over hot popcorn and root beer, sat together on my cozy couch, watching It’s a Wonderful Life while talking about our families and our traditions and our histories and the future.

  Outside, the snow started to fall, and soon the entire world was covered in a pristine blanket of white.

  It wasn’t until Aunt Astrid got her pictures developed after the New Year that I saw Blake had been looking at me in each picture I was in. It also wasn’t until then that Bea told me he had walked in at the exact moment Tom was kissing me for my Christmas gift.

  “He turned and left,” she said. “He looked heartbroken.”

  I took Aunt Astrid’s pictures and flipped through them casually while my brain whirred.

  “He had his chance, didn’t he?” I asked innocently.

  While you wait for book 8 of The Wonder Cats Mysteries, check out my new mystery series, Secret Agent Granny.

  In book 1, Barbara Gold, a retired CIA agent, is bored out of her skull in Cheerville, a small town in New England—until a man is poisoned during a book club meeting for seniors. Read an excerpt of Granny’s Got a Gun at the end of this book.

  Be the first to hear about 99¢ new book release sales by signing up for Harper's Newsletter.

  All books by Harper Lin

  The Wonder Cats Mysteries

  A Hiss-tory of Magic: Book 1

  Pawsitively Dead: Book 2

  Cat-atrophic Spells: Book 3

  The Scariest Tail: Book 4

  Purr-fect Getaway: Book 5

  Un-fur-tunate Murders: Book 6

  Fur-miliar Felines: Book 7

  Box Set Volume I: Books 1-3

  * * *

  The Secret Agent Granny Mysteries

  Granny’s Got a Gun: Book 1

  Granny Undercover: Book 2

  Granny Strikes Back: Book 3

  * * *

  The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries

  Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse: Book 1

  Tea, Tiramisu, and Tough Guys: Book 2

  Margaritas, Marzipan, and Murder: Book 3

  Lattes, Ladyfingers, and Lies: Book 4

  Americanos, Apple Pies, and Art Thieves: Book 5

  Cremas, Christmas Cookies, and Crooks: Book 6

  Espressos, Eggnogs, and Evil Exes: Book 7

  * * *

  The Pink Cupcake Mysteries

  Sweets and a Stabbing: Book 1

  A Deadly Bridal Shower: Book 2

  Food Festival and a Funeral: Book 3

  Cold Case and Cupcakes: Book 4

  Pop-Up Truck and Peril: Book 5

  Desserts and Death: Book 6

  * * *

  The Emma Wild 4-book Holiday Series

  4-Book Holiday Series

  Killer Christmas: Book 1

  New Year’s Slay: Book 2

  Death of a Snowman: Book 3

  Valentine’s Victim: Book 4

  Complete 4-Book Box Set

  * * *

  The Patisserie Mysteries

  Macaron Murder: Book 1

  Éclair Murder: Book 2

  Baguette Murder: Book 3

  Crêpe Murder: Book 4

  Croissant Murder: Book 5

  Crème Brûlée Murder: Book 6

  Madeleine Murder: Book 7

  Opera Cake Murder: Book 8

  Chocolat Chaud Murder: Book 9

  Box Set Volume I: Books 1-4

  Box Set Volume II: Books 5-8

  A Note From Harper

  Thank you so much for reading The Wonder Cats Mysteries. If you were entertained by the book, please recommend it to friends and family who would enjoy it too. I would also really appreciate it if you could write a book review to help spread the word.

  If you like this series, you might also enjoy my other series:

  • The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries: about an amateur sleuth/ owner of an Italian family cafe in a charming beach town.

  • Secret Agent Granny: 70-year-old Barbara is a sweet grandmother—and a badass ex-CIA agent.

  • The Pink Cupcake Mysteries: about the baker of a cupcake food truck solving mysteries in a quirky town in Oregon.

  • The Patisserie Mysteries: a culinary cozy series set in Paris featuring French dessert recipes.

  • The Emma Wild Mysteries: a 4-Book holiday cozy series about a famous singer returning to her small Canadian town.

  A couple of the first books in the series are FREE at the moment so be sure to try them out while they still are.

  If you want to be the first to hear about new book releases and
99¢ early bird specials, sign up for my mailing list.

  I’m also on Facebook, where I’ll be holding giveaways, sharing recipes, and posting about what I’m reading at the moment.

  Follow my Pinterest boards to see the locations, fashions, and inspirations behind each book.

  You can also connect with me on Goodreads.

  If you’d like to get in touch with me directly, you can email me at harperlinauthor@outlook.com. I would love to hear what you think about the books. Do also drop me a note if you happen to catch any mistakes. While each book is edited and proofread by professionals, errors can still slip through sometimes. As an indie writer, I want to provide readers with the smoothest read possible.

  Last but not least, visit my website for the latest news and my blog.

  Thanks and much love,

  Harper

  About the Author

  Harper Lin is the USA TODAY bestselling author of 6 cozy mystery series including The Patisserie Mysteries and The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries.

  When she's not reading or writing mysteries, she loves going to yoga classes, hiking, and hanging out with her family and friends.

  * * *

  www.HarperLin.com

  Excerpt from “Granny’s Got a Gun”

  I was at the weekly meeting of the Cheerville Active Readers’ Society, the closest thing to pass for entertainment in this sleepy little New England town. I found myself living here after I retired from the CIA.

  I’m Barbara Gold. Age: 70. Height: five feet, five inches. Eyes: blue. Hair: gray. Weight: none of your business. Specialties: undercover surveillance, small arms, chemical weapons, Middle East and Latin American politics. Current status: retired widow and grandmother.