Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [62]
Saturday came fast enough with no further contact from Logan. She should have been relieved. Reminding herself that she wasn’t going to dwell on him, she got the scones in the oven and then tidied her condo. Smudge knew all this cleaning was a sign company was coming and didn’t really approve. When Megan got the vacuum out, Smudge gave her a dirty look.
“Maybe I should get one of those Roomba automatic vacuums. I saw a YouTube video of a cat sitting on one of those, happy as a clam. Would you like that, Smudge? Would you like to ride around on a Roomba?”
Smudge stuck her nose in the air and marched down the hall into the bedroom.
“Apparently not. Obviously you think that vacuum riding is beneath you. How about a little dusting with that lovely tail of yours?” she called after her. “I wouldn’t mind a little help with the housekeeping.”
Smudge kept going, sliding under the paisley Shabby Chic bedskirt and disappearing from sight.
Megan waited until that moment to turn on the vacuum. This was a regular ritual. She wouldn’t admit it to a living soul, but there were times when she’d put off vacuuming because Smudge was basking in a pool of sunshine and Megan didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Only another cat person would understand. And even then only one who was as polite as she was.
By the time Gram arrived, the place smelled of baked goods. All the loose papers had been tidied and books put back in their places on the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined one wall of her living room.
“Something smells good,” Gram said as she entered. “I brought you some of those Swedish mints you like so much.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. I also gave some to that nice doorman of yours. What’s his name again?”
“Danny. Danny Boone.”
“That’s a nice name. He’s so polite.”
“Yes, he is.”
“So where’s that cat of yours? Taking a nap again? I swear, that kitty sleeps all day long.”
“It’s officially catnap time.”
“Hmmph. If I don’t take naps, I don’t see why she should. You know, you were brave to adopt a black cat.”
“There was nothing brave about it.”
“I’m just saying that some people are superstitious.”
“You know I always speak up for the underdog. Or undercat, in this case.”
“Yes, you do. That’s one of the things I love about you. And you even apply that to teacups, collecting the orphaned ones from thrift shops.”
“It’s true. I don’t have the heart to leave them by themselves, abandoned. It’s all your fault, you know. You’re the one who got me hooked on serving tea. You invited Faith and me to tea parties as little girls. Faith might be the huge Jane Austen fan, but I’m the huge tea fan. I brewed a pot of Earl Grey, by the way. I hope that’s okay?”
Gram nodded her approval. Tea bags were frowned upon in her view. “It’s true that you took to the concept of serving tea more than Faith did. And I got my love for it from the time I spent with my parents in London, when I was a teenager and they were working at the consulate. It’s rewarding to think that I’ve passed that ritual on to the next generation.”
“You certainly have. As for the teacups and saucers, I only get the ones that call to me. This one, for example.” Megan had set the rustic farm dining table with two teacups from her collection along with a white teapot and matching sugar bowl and creamer. “I loved the red leaves on this one, and the other one has a fall harvest design.”
“And they both go with the carved wooden Dala horse from Sweden I got you. Clever of you to use it as a centerpiece.” Gram nodded appreciatively. “You have a real eye for that kind of thing. Design. Colors. Displays.”
“I do the displays at the library. The current one is on holiday recipes from around the world.”
“Did you include Sweden?”
“Of course I did. And I have a surprise for you.” She went into the kitchen and returned with a plate of cookies. “Chokladbollar cookies. I had some in the freezer and I let them defrost a bit.” The no-bake cookies were favorites of both Megan and her grandmother. “Remember how you taught me to make these when I was a little