Death on a Deadline

and sank into my chair. Neuro jumped up on my walnut desk, rubbing her bumpy yellow fur against my arm, purring loudly. “Come here, you.” I cradled her in my arms and relaxed.
    Hayley, my ten-year-old niece, burst into the room. As she slammed down in the chair across from my desk, arms crossed, Neuro skittered off my lap and disappeared behind the file cabinet.
    “Having a good day, I see.”
    “Mom’s out there in the hallway.” Hayley spat out the words. “Signing us up for gymnastics.”
    “You and Rachel don’t want to take gymnastics anymore?”
    She gave me the are-you-a-total-moron look ten-year-olds do best. “ Rachel wants to.”
    “Oh.” Poor Carly. The twins had been identical, not only in looks, but in likes, for so long that we all tended to think of them as one entity.
    A tap on the door interrupted our meaningful aunt -niece communication. “Hayley, sugar, there you are. I figured I’d find you in here.” Carly gave me a distracted grin. “Hey, Jenna.”
    My sister brought her focus back to the still-scowling Hayley. “Can you do me a favor and go tell Rachel I’m in Aunt Jenna’s office? She’s down by the sign-up sheets.”
    Hayley rolled her eyes and mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out.
    “Don’t give me that attitude, young lady,” Carly said, drawing herself up to her full five foot two inches.
    Hayley left with no more mumbling, and Neuro immediately scampered out of her hiding place. That cat can sense a mood better than most people I know.
    “Help.” Carly plopped into the chair her daughter had vacated. “Mama’s words keep comin’ out of my mouth.”
    I nodded. “When you said ‘young lady,’ I cringed and ducked.”
    “You notice Hayley didn’t. I try to be tough, but I’ll never have my bluff in on them like Mama did us.” My sister is a wonderful mother with enough insecurity to keep a therapist busy for life. She’s always been a little unsure of herself, but as a single mom raising three kids, she often falls prey to self-doubt.
    “Are you going to make Hayley take gymnastics this year?” I kept my voice neutral. I’d seen so many miserable kids whose parents signed them up for classes they didn’t want to take, but I couldn’t make Carly’s decisions for her.
    “Who knows? I didn’t end up puttin’ her name on the list.” She sighed. “I remember when I was eleven, Mama and Daddy let me quit swimming. I felt like I’d won the Olympics.”
    That was the year I’d turned seven. I’d already taken top prize in several competitions by then. A recurring thought surfaced for the gazillionth time. Was I the cause of my big sister’s lack of confidence in her abilities?
    “I swear those girls of mine are gonna be the death of me. I could’ve kissed Mama’s feet when she offered to baby-sit tonight.”
    In spite of my tiredness, I grinned. How did my sister end up with such a soft southern drawl? We were both born and raised in Lake View, Arkansas, and everyone around here says “y’all.” But Carly takes it a step further. She lived in Atlanta for several years, and now she drops her Gs and softens her Rs like she’s a native Georgian. Must be the Gone with the Wind effect. Turns every woman within a hundred mile radius into Scarlett O’Hara.
    “I’ll get off work in about an hour. Why don’t you come by the house after you take the kids home and we’ll go get a bite to eat?”
    “I thought you’d never ask.” Carly ran her fingers through her short dark curl s a nervous habit that gives her a perpetually tousled look, reminiscent of a fifties starlet. But I knew that underneath that Betty Boop exterior beat a Betty Crocker heart. “Can you guarantee there won’t be any ten-year-olds there?”
    “C’mon, Car. This fighting won’t last forever. By the time Hayley and Rachel are in high school, they’ll be best friends again.”
    “Ya’ think?” She relaxed in her chair. Neuro took Carly’s chilled-out posture as an invitation and leaped into her lap.
    Carly pushed the cat off, but Neuro bounced back up like a Super Ball. She pushed again; Neuro bounced up again. “I give up, Baldy,” she muttered.
    “Hey. . .” I snatched Neurosis off her lap. “Cut the name-calling. She has a problem. But we’re working on it.”
    “She’s a cat,” Carly drawled, making cat two syllables. “A cat that pulls her hair out. How do you work on that? Kitty therapy?”
    Covering Neuro’s ears with my hands, I