Scratch the Surface

romance could be nursed back to life and made to blossom after all.
    On to the exoneration—or exculpation?—of her unsatisfactory best friend, Ronald Gershwin. She called Newbright Books and reached Ronald, who, as if to illustrate his deficiencies as a series character, said that he was busy. Could he call her back? As usual, he made it sound as if his busyness consisted not of restocking his shelves, advising customers about books, and taking their money, but of passing along state secrets. Ronald did, of course, blab confidential information, but he gossiped about authors, agents, editors, and book deals; his knowledge of espionage came exclusively from his reading of spy novels. Still, he indulged in breaches of confidentiality. So, if he’d known the truth about Isabelle Hotchkiss, why hadn’t he tattled to Felicity?
    “Are you free for dinner?” she asked.
    “Thursday,” he said.
    “Thursday it is.”
    The phone went dead. Normal human beings didn’t just hang up on friends! At a minimum, they said good-bye. Preferably, they made excuses for ending conversations and then said good-bye.
    “Therefore,” Felicity said to the cats, who were lingering in the kitchen, “Ronald is not a normal human being. Are you normal feline beings? Should I use the phrase about Morris and Tabitha? Or will the critics scratch out my eyes for being cutesy? And if so, will it be because my mother leads a secret life as an anonymous reviewer of mysteries, especially mine?”
    Emboldened by her success in thus conversing with Edith and Brigitte, Felicity bent over Edith, who was rubbing against a table leg, and touched the top of Edith’s big head. It would be a good idea, wouldn’t it, to have Prissy speak to Morris and Tabitha more often than had been her habit. Also, Morris and Tabitha were perhaps hungry for affection. Prissy must remember to pat them frequently.
    Felicity again sat at the table and placed a phone call, this one to Janice Mattingly, who answered immediately in a surprisingly robust voice. “I was dehydrated,” she explained. “Once they got fluids and electrolytes and whatever back into me, I felt pretty much okay. I got home last night. The stress of worrying about Dorothy-L was starting to make me sick, so the hospital let me leave. I kept thinking about what could happen to her with me gone. The neighbors know better than to let her out, but who knows? Anything could’ve happened, and she is so attached to me. And I wasn’t sure they’d give her the medication when they were supposed to, and maybe she wouldn’t swallow her pills for them, or she’d spit out her pills, and they wouldn’t notice.” Felicity waited silently as Janice continued to voice her fears about the cat for another few minutes. When Janice paused for breath, Felicity said, “Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well. The rest of us are, too.”
    “I can’t imagine what happened. Tony’s is very, very clean. Spotless. And I bought that food on Saturday afternoon. I have to wonder whether we didn’t all have a stomach virus, something that was transmitted very quickly. I did notice that Jim looked a little under the weather. Did you notice?”
    Eager to postpone the confrontation, Felicity said, “I didn’t notice that, but maybe he did. Anyway, we’ve all recovered. But the reason I called, besides wanting to know how you were doing, is that I’ve finally had time to read your book.”
    She let the silence hang. Having published numerous books herself, she was familiar with the sensations an author experiences when someone says, “I read your book,” and then fails to add, “And I loved it” or “It was wonderful!” or even “It was interesting.”
    Finally, she said, “I owe you an apology for neglecting you. And your book. I was just overwhelmed with work. Anyway, now that I’ve read it, I wonder whether we could get together to talk about how I can help you to promote it. I thought you might want to come and have dinner with me. But maybe you’re not well enough yet.”
    “I’m well enough.” Janice said. “I can’t eat much, but who cares? I’m practically back to normal. Tonight?”
    “Let’s keep it early. Six-thirty? Do you need directions?”
    “No, I’ve been there for board meetings, remember? And when Sonya and I dropped you off after the funeral.”
    “Of course,” said Felicity. “After the funeral.”
     

 
    Out of consideration for Janice’s traumatized digestive system