They sat there listening for what seemed like long minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. There was no sound from Hannah’s bedroom, and all three of them began to relax.
“I think it’s over,” Michelle said, placing her wineglass back on the coffee table.
“Agreed.” Norman nodded, and he put his soda glass next to Michelle’s glass.
“I’m not so sure,” Hannah said, keeping her wineglass and listening intently for any sound emanating from her bedroom. “Usually I can hear them purring by now. I’m going to give them another minute or two before I put down my glass.”
And then it happened, the pounding of feline feet on the carpet in a mad rush back to the living room. Hannah barely had time to tuck her feet back up on the couch before the cats were rounding the corner again.
“Uh-oh!” Michelle grabbed her glass and executed a maneuver that any yoga instructor would have been proud to see, raising her legs and tucking them under her, hoping that she was in time to avoid a furry feline ankle crash.
“I got it, I think!” Norman grabbed his ginger ale, propped his feet on top of Hannah’s lap, and gave her an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Hannah. I didn’t have time to tuck.”
“No problem,” Hannah said, laughing. “Oh, no! Moishe’s almost skidded into the corner!”
On this last and final lap, the cats screeched past them three times, rounding the back of the couch with claws digging in hard to make the corners and then flying past them. Their fur was ruffled, their ears were laid flat against their heads, and their tails were straight out behind them. It was a game and they knew it, but they were acting as if they were racing for their lives.
“Are they done?” Michelle asked as the cats headed back down the hallway to the bedroom.
“Listen,” Hannah advised, holding her finger to her lips.
As all three of them listened, there was a thud and then a second, softer thud. A rustling ensued for several seconds and then all three of them heard the sound of loud purring.
“They’re done,” Hannah declared. “They’re both on the bed, nestled in the feather pillows, purring because they caused so much havoc.”
“But they think it’s fun,” Michelle added.
“Right,” Norman said. “And they love to see us react.”
They sat there for a moment, sipping their drinks and catching their collective breath. And then Hannah stood up.
“I have to stir the dinner in the Crock-Pot,” she said.
“And I have to get everything else ready,” Michelle stated, also rising to her feet.
“Can I do anything to help you?” Norman asked.
“I don’t think so, unless . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and looked thoughtful. “Would you mind running next door to Marguerite and Clara’s place? I’d like to ask Marguerite to join us for dinner if Clara doesn’t mind. I know Clara can’t join us because of her allergies, but we can always deliver her dinner. And if Marguerite comes here, she’ll have a chance to see Cuddles again.”
“Great idea!” Norman declared, heading for the door. “You girls go ahead and do what you have to do. I’ll invite Marguerite and be right back to help you.”
Hannah was stirring the contents of the Crock-Pot when there was another knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Michelle said, hurrying to answer the door. “It’s probably Norman and he locked himself out.”
Hannah listened, but she didn’t hear Norman’s voice. Instead, she heard Michelle greet Lonnie.
“Hi, Lonnie! Did Mike’s food-dar kick into high gear because we were cooking dinner?”
“Not exactly. We were next door at Marguerite and Clara’s condo when Norman came by.”
“Were you visiting them?” Michelle asked.
“No, Marguerite called the sheriff’s department and we came right out.”
Hannah clamped the lid back on the slow cooker and hurried to intercept Lonnie and Michelle. “Is something wrong with Marguerite or Clara?”
Lonnie nodded. “Yes, Marguerite called us an hour ago to tell us about Clara’s accident. Mike and I jumped in the cruiser and came out here right away. Mike’s still over there trying to calm them down and Norman’s helping him.”
“What kind of accident did Clara have?” Hannah asked as she ushered Lonnie into the kitchen, gestured to a chair at the kitchen table, and gave him a cup of coffee. “Is Clara hurt?”
“No, just frightened. She was outside, taking photos of that big pine tree at the edge of the complex, when someone ran out of the woods, pushed her down in the snow, and stole her cell phone.”
“Good heavens!” Hannah