you want. You can use the kitchen in the poolhouse too, but feel free to use this one anytime. Same with the living room if you want to watch TV. There’s no TV in the poolhouse.”
“Thank you. That’s really generous.”
He shrugged that off. “Least I can do. I moved you in here. You should be comfortable and have everything you need.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say, except, “Thank you,” again.
Then Freddy caught my eye. I’d noticed him quietly following us around, rubbing himself on furniture. Sometimes ignoring us to lick himself and other times gazing at Cary with his big, round, dayglow eyes beaming pure adoration.
“He adores you,” I observed.
Cary looked down like he had no idea Freddy was with us, finding him seated at his feet, gazing up at him. The cat immediately popped to his feet, swishing his tail seductively in the air. “Ah, he just wants treats.” He rubbed his foot on the cat. “Shit, now we’ve gotta give him some, or he’ll be obnoxiously affectionate all day.”
“What?” I laughed.
“He’ll park his furry ass on top of whatever you’re working on and stare you down at an uncomfortably close range until you acknowledge him, and then the cuddling and begging starts.” He picked up a half-eaten pack of kitty treats from the counter and dumped it into Freddy’s bowl. “Here you go, buddy. Let’s not embarrass yourself in front of Taylor on her first day, huh?”
Freddy mewled a very small, dainty meow for such a big cat, rubbing himself gratuitously on Cary’s legs before diving in. He purred like a small lawn mower while he ate.
“You’d think I never feed him,” Cary said.
“I mean, obviously he’s starving.”
“I actually had to put him on a diet a while ago. Courteney took him to the vet and they said he was overweight.”
“Aw. Poor, starving, fat kitty,” I said, petting his head. “I’ll play with him. Make sure he gets exercise. How does that sound, Freddy? We’ll do some kitty yoga.”
When I looked up at Cary, he was just looking at me. “He’ll like having you around,” he said.
“I love cats. I wish I had one.”
“Well, now you do.”
I smiled. “Actually… I volunteer at an animal shelter a couple times a week,” I said, as it occurred to me that he’d never actually asked to see my resume. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“Nope. You can just let me know when you need to go down there.”
“Sure. I usually go one night a week and then once on the weekend.”
“Sounds good.”
He reached down and patted his cat on the butt. Freddy purred louder.
When he wasn’t looking, I eyed Cary carefully. I wondered if maybe he was getting better? If whatever he’d struggled with in the past wasn’t such an issue anymore?
Maybe he wasn’t as bad off as everyone seemed to think?
It was hard to imagine that the man in front of me was actually a recluse.
I’d looked up agoraphobia after he hired me, because I wasn’t sure I really knew what it was, other than some vague notion I’d maybe gleaned in the movies. From what I’d read, agoraphobia often developed in relation to panic attacks, because once a person had suffered a panic attack, they became so fearful of having another one and being out of control that they avoided situations where it might happen. And sometimes that went so far as meaning they stopped leaving the house.
But he said he didn’t have panic attacks anymore, right? So maybe he was getting past the whole thing.
“So, if this is going to work out,” I told him, “just so you know, I need coffee. I don’t see a coffee maker here. Please tell me there’s a café nearby? Walking distance?”
“There is. Maybe more like driving distance, depending how much time you have.” He opened a cupboard above the fridge and dug around, pulling something out. “You can have these.” He handed me a keychain with a couple of keys and a key fob on it. “You can take the car anytime and get coffee or whatever you need.”
I stared at the black key fob in my hand. I knew what that fancy L logo meant. He’d just handed me the keys to a Lexus.
“Oh. Wow. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I also have a coffee maker in the studio, though. I already put on a pot today, if you want one. It’s just a Tim Horton’s dark roast.”
“Yes, please.” I followed him back into the studio. “I’m not a coffee