Page 164 of Back in the Saddle

At around 7:20 that night, we rolled up on Mary’s door at the long-term hotel where she was staying.

Raye knocked.

We waited.

Raye knocked again.

We waited some more.

“She’s not a spring chicken, maybe it takes her time to get to the door,” Harlow remarked into our collective impatience.

“It’s a glorified hotel room with a kitchenette and a baby living room. How much time does it take?” Luna asked.

I pushed in to knock again, but I didn’t when we heard shouted from the other side, “I can see you! And I’m not answering because I’m mad at you girls!”

We all glanced at each other before I called toward the door, “Why are you mad at us? You barely know us.”

We jumped when the door was yanked open, and Mary stood there in all her petite, old lady glory, complete with pink fuzzy slippers on her feet, glowering up at us.

I would never tell her this, but the glower lost some of its power due to the slippers.

“Because now all my kidsandgrandkids know I was sleeping in a tent, and they’re all mad at me,andthey’re all scraping together the little extra they have so they can get me a nicer apartment,” she explained, all crotchety.

“If my grandma was sleeping in an abandoned parking lot in a tent, I’d want her in a decent apartment,” Luna pointed out.

“They already don’t have a lot, now they’re gonna have less,” Mary shot back.

“No. Now they’ll have peace of mind you’re taken care of, which is worth more than anything money can buy,” Luna returned.

Mary worked her jaw while she considered this.

We had the population of the whole homeless camp to get to, and I had a desire to get it done in time for Luna to be forced to spend even just a little bit of it with Knox that night, so I stated, “We’re looking into these abductions from the camp. Can we ask you some questions?”

She focused her glare on me for a few beats before she stepped aside and let us in.

We all trundled in, and yeah, the place was no palace. It was small, but it was clean, even if her belongings were wedged everywhere there was space to fit them.

The tiger cat, who had assumed the high ground on a tall stack of boxes, took a swipe at Harlow’s hair as she passed by. With a squeak, Harlow jumped out of range.

“Zuzu, quit that,” Mary ordered.

Even though she had no hope of reaching her, Zuzu responded by taking a swipe at Mary.

“Her name is Zuzu?” Raye asked.

Mary looked at Raye like she had two heads. “No. His name is Frank.”

We all looked at each other again before Raye pointed out, “You just called him Zuzu.”

“I call him Zuzu, and King Catopher, and Cat Catofferson and Prince of His Domain, and Scallywicious,” Mary shared. “He’s the only baby I have left. He gets a lot of nicknames. Obviously, you don’t have cats.”

This reminded me, I was in the market for a pet. It was time. I had a guy to talk to now, so I wasn’t talking to the sink anymore, but still.

Both Mom and Dad had no patience for animals, and both Jeff and I had always wanted one.

I wondered what Eric thought about cats.

“Actually, I moonlight as a pet sitter,” Raye told her.

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