one arm before gently turning the dead bolt. The lock made a quiet metallic click as it released, and she winced, certain the sound could be heard in the courtyard. She waited a moment, hand on knob, for the scramble of feet beyond; then, when all remained silent, she took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
“I’ve dialed 9-1-1, Robert,” she called out, holding up her cell in one hand and clutching her makeshift club in the other. “You’ve got one second to tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Mmmph?” came a groggy answer from the shadows, followed by, “Hey, Ms. Pettistone, please don’t call the cops! I can explain.”
SIXTEEN
DARLA GLANCED ABOUT, UNABLE FOR A MOMENT TO TELL where the voice, which was obviously Robert’s, had come from. Then she looked down.
In the shadowed corner of the courtyard to the right of the door, she spied something tucked away behind the bistro chairs and table where Darla and her staff often took their lunch. Robert lay huddled on the bricks in his sleeping bag, his head propped on his backpack as a makeshift pillow. That alone was enough to make her eyes widen in surprise.
But what truly startled her was the fact that the AWOL Hamlet lay stretched atop Robert’s shoulders, serving as an equally makeshift blanket. The feline raised his head, and his green eyes caught the light. From his casual yet protective pose, she swiftly caught the vibe from him, It’s all under control.
Leaning the rain stick against the doorjamb, Darla promptly hit “End” on her phone and hurried down the two steps that led to the patio.
“Robert, what’s wrong? Why in the world are you sleeping out here in the cold?” she demanded, her previous outrage replaced by a wave of concern.
Robert, meanwhile, was dragging himself into a sitting position. In the process, he dislodged his feline guardian angel, who slipped off the teen’s shoulders and landed neatly on the brick. While Hamlet paused for a quick paw lick, Robert managed to extract himself from the sleeping bag and scramble to his feet.
“Sorry,” he mumbled through a yawn, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand, while with the other he clutched his sleeping bag to him like a security blanket. “I just needed a place to crash. I’ll go find somewhere else.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” came Darla’s stern reply. “Come inside right now where it’s warm and explain to me what’s going on.”
He meekly followed her inside, trailed by Hamlet, who did not look meek at all. Darla saw that he—the teen, not the cat—was wearing the same clothes as he’d had on earlier that day, though now the garments were notably crumpled. Shaking her head, she locked the door again and led Robert back to the register where the light above illuminated that portion of the counter. She pointed him to the tall stool there and said, “Sit.”
He did, while Hamlet lightly leaped onto the counter for a better view of the action. Once they both were settled, she said, “Now, talk. How come you’re not at home where you belong?”
“I, um, don’t have a home anymore,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “My dad, he, you know, tossed me out as soon as I turned eighteen back in the spring.”
“Your dad threw you out?” Darla stared at him in shock. “Why, you were still in high school then, weren’t you?” At his nod, she went on, “What, were you doing something illegal, and he didn’t want you in the house?”
“No! I was making all A’s in my classes and everything. It didn’t matter to him. He said his time was up, he wasn’t responsible for me anymore. He said his dad threw him out at eighteen, so he was, like, returning the favor.”
“But what about your mother? How could she allow that?”
“She’s somewhere in California. I haven’t heard from her since I was eleven.”
The youth’s matter-of-fact tone affected Darla more than any bitterness or anger. How could a parent do such a thing to his or her child? If the youth had been sitting around the house unemployed and using drugs, maybe that would have been different, but he’d been in school and then holding down a job of one sort or another ever since graduation. Apparently, his only transgression had been having a birthday.
Darla shook her head in disbelief. Even though she’d lived in the New York City area for only a short while, she knew full well how hard it