Escape Claws. Linda Reilly
sure you will,” Lara said.
After Heather and the kids left, Lara stuck her juice glass in the sink. Aunt Fran came from the direction of the bathroom into the kitchen.
“Oh, there you are,” Lara said. “The kids’ mom just picked them up.”
Aunt Fran nodded distractedly. “I watched Darryl read for a few minutes. It’s…inexplicable. You were right—he was reading that book aloud without a single hesitation.” She sat in one of the kitchen chairs, flinching as she bent her knees.
Lara dropped onto a chair adjacent to her. “Did you happen to see the cat with him?”
Aunt Fran looked at Lara as if she’d asked if she’d spotted the kangaroo in the room. “There was no cat in there, Lara.”
From her aunt’s tone, Lara decided not to press it. “Hey, I like the Weston kids.”
Aunt Fran smiled. “They’re sweet children, but right now they’re struggling. Their dad bailed on them several months ago. It’s been tough on the family. Heather does her best, but I think she’s getting worn out from being the sole supporter.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“The man was somewhat of a ne’er-do-well, but he always loved his kids. Unfortunately,” she said with an edge to her tone, “the words ‘child support’ were not in his personal dictionary. I don’t think Heather even knows where he is right now.”
“That’s a shame,” Lara said. “Where does Heather work?”
“Knowles Transitional Care, in Wolfeboro,” her aunt said. “She’s an LNA, a licensed nursing assistant. The place is so understaffed that she often has to work extra hours. Although, as she often points out, it’s better than working for Theo Barnes.”
“Barnes? That rude man we saw in the coffee shop?”
“The very same. Up until a few years ago, Heather worked in his office. He was such a miserable employer that it prompted her to go to school for her LNA. She did, and she’s never looked back.”
Theo Barnes again, Lara thought. “You make Barnes sound like the devil in disguise, Aunt Fran.”
Her aunt pointed a finger at her, her green eyes blazing. “Yes, Lara, you nailed it. He is the devil in disguise. The problem is, his disguise has slipped away and now he’s just the devil.”
Chapter 3
“Thank you for making dinner, Lara. That omelet was scrumptious.”
Settled in the wing chair in front of the unlit fireplace, Aunt Fran folded a crocheted throw over her legs and patted her knees. Dolce accepted the invitation and sprang onto her lap, green eyes gazing up at her adoringly.
“Anytime,” Lara said, genuinely pleased. She was sitting on the floor next to her aunt, Munster curled in a half-moon atop her folded legs. “My landlady—her name’s Gabriela—calls them frittate, the plural of frittata. She’s the one I told you about—the one who owns the bakery.”
“And she’s teaching you some Italian, I see.” Aunt Fran smiled.
Lara waggled her hand back and forth. “A little, but I’m kind of a crappy student.”
“Lately,” Aunt Fran went on, “I’ve been making do with frozen dinners and canned soup. Not exactly my style, but it’s easier on my knees. I don’t do well standing at the stove or at the sink for long periods.” She rested her hands over Dolce and softly stroked the cat. “And thank you again for helping today. The house already looks much better.”
And smells better, Lara thought, though in reality she’d only skimmed the surface of what needed to be done. Tomorrow she hoped to give the place a good vacuuming and maybe some dusting.
Aunt Fran’s smile wilted. “I still don’t know why you’re here, Lara. Do you want to enlighten me?”
Okay, the moment of truth.
“Aunt Fran, I’m going to be honest. I’ve been here less than half a day and already I’m very worried about you. I remember this house before…before—”
“Before your mother and Roy moved away?” The bitterness in her aunt’s tone surprised Lara.
“Y-yes, before that.” Lara stroked Munster’s soft head for courage. “But what I meant was, um…before you got so overwhelmed with cats. And I don’t mean to pry, honestly I don’t, but…have you seen a specialist about your knees?”
“I’m not a fool, Lara. Of course I have.” She sighed. “My doctor calls my condition rapidly destructive osteoarthritis. It means the deterioration in the cartilage happened quickly, not over a long period. He’s urging me to have replacements done in both knees.”
Oh, boy. That sounded bad. No wonder Aunt Fran had so much difficulty walking.
Lara tickled Munster under the chin, triggering a loud purr. “So what are you waiting for? Why don’t you just have the surgery?”
“You sound like everyone else,” her aunt said, a touch of snark in her tone. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“See what? I—”
“How can I have knee surgery with no one to care for the cats? It requires several days in the hospital, and even more in a rehab facility, like the one where Heather works. And after that, a long period of recovery at home, with therapists making home visits. And that’s only for one knee.”
“Okay, I get it. But isn’t there anyone you can ask for help? Maybe pay someone to house-sit/catsit for a few weeks?”
Aunt Fran shook her head. “I tried finding someone, but no one was willing to work for the pay I could offer. Besides, a few weeks wouldn’t be enough.”
“Your knees,” Lara said. “That’s why you quit teaching this year, isn’t it?”
“It is, and before you ask, I do get a monthly disability check. The problem is, it’s barely enough to keep this house up and running. Once winter sets in, the heating bills will skyrocket.”
Munster began chewing on the sleeve of Lara’s paisley pullover. She smiled and bent down to kiss his whiskers. “What about Brooke?” she suggested. “She obviously likes your cats. Could she give you some help with the litter boxes?”
“She could and she offered to do so, but I refused. And since I can already see a question mark forming in that inquisitive head of yours, I’ll tell you why. You probably don’t remember your grandmother—my mother—do you?”
Lara shook her head. “Not really.” A vague memory of a scowling woman with a caustic tongue came to mind. Lara had been quite young at the time. She wasn’t sure if that had been her grandmother or a neighbor.
“Well, when I was a young girl,” Aunt Fran explained, her voice tight, “my mother suddenly declared one day that she was a semi-invalid. No doctor had ever told her that, or diagnosed her with anything in particular. But the label worked well for her so she stuck with it.” Her hands shook a little. “I was forced to perform all sorts of chores that a child should never be charged with. Including personal hygiene tasks that were mortifying to me.”
Dolce stared up at Aunt Fran, as if he felt her sudden angst.
“Oh, I…” Lara swallowed. “I’m so sorry. That sounds truly awful. Look, I get what you’re saying. But if Brooke really wants to help. Wouldn’t it be a good after-school job for her?”
Aunt Fran’s expression softened. “It might be, but I know Brooke quite well. When she does something she enjoys, especially if it means helping someone, she puts her whole heart into it. I’m worried that if she started helping with the cats, she’d get so involved that her schoolwork would suffer. Plus, she’ll be entering high school next year, and will have even more homework than she