Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,42
Mrs. Blankenship was calling, Dot fleetingly wondered, but decided it must be Glee since she had broached the subject of bringing her son and daughter to visit Dot’s cats.
Locating three more cats might not be an easy task. She quickly found Preenie Queenie curled up on a window seat, this one in Dot’s bedchamber, the sun almost sparkling off her white fur.
But Dot was having no luck finding Lover Boy or Fur Blossom.
Then she saw that the chambermaid must have left her father’s bedchamber door open. That would be an invitation to her curious cats, who were not permitted in her father’s rooms. She followed her instincts and quickly saw Fur Blossom’s glossy black-and-white fur coiled into Papa’s wash basin. “Come, you naughty kitty,” she said as she picked up the cat.
Someone had left open the drawer to her father’s desk, and that silly Lover Boy had tried to stuff his fat orange body into the drawer half his size. She had to laugh.
Moments later, she strolled into the drawing room carrying Lover Boy and Fur Blossom. She was surprised that it was the elder Mrs. Blankenship who had brought her grandchildren.
When the children looked up and saw her with the two cats, they squealed with delight.
“Why do you not sit down so we can put a cat in each of your laps?” Dot suggested.
The lovely little girl, who looked about five and who vastly resembled her fiery-haired mother, almost flew to the sofa, then patted the spot next to her for her little brother to come sit.
And little he was! The lad obviously could not yet talk and had only just learned to walk. With dark hair and eyes, he was the image of his father. Dot could well understand how the parents and grandmother could dote on such adorable children.
“This cat’s name is Lover Boy,” Dot said as she placed him on the little girl’s lap.
The little girl giggled.
When the little boy went to pet Lover Boy, his sister snapped at him. “This one’s mine.”
“And this is yours.” Dot placed Fur Blossom on the lad’s lap. His little hands immediately began to stroke the cat’s soft hair. “Her name is Fur Blossom,” Dot said in a softened voice.
“That’s a silly name,” the little girl said. Then she eyed her brother and slowly pronounced the word “Kitty” in an attempt to extend his vocabulary while she went to pet the animal.
“Mine!” he said.
Dot could see he’d learned at least one word.
“Children, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Pankhurst’s daughter, Miss Pankhurst,” their grandmother said. Turning to Dot, she placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “This is my granddaughter Joy.” Then she settled a gentle hand on the little boy’s dark hair. “This is my grandson we still call Little Gregory.”
“He certainly resembles his father. How old is he?”
“Fifteen months.”
“I daresay that’s still a baby,” Mr. Pankhurst said.
Dot directed her attention at the little girl. “And how old are you, Joy?”
“Four and a half.”
Before Dot left to find Nellie, she observed that her father had removed his feet from the stool and sat erect. He looked far more vibrant.
“I’ve one more cat to fetch,” Dot said. “I cannot vouch for how long these cats will behave themselves. Perhaps with four from which to choose we can manage two on decent behavior.”
When she returned with Nellie, her father and Mrs. Blankenship scarcely noticed. They were deep in conversation.
It occurred to Dot they were not very far apart in age. Blanks was the same age as Forrester—thirty. But now that she thought about it, hadn’t someone said something about this woman being Blanks’ stepmother? Yet she was old enough to have a son who was married to a woman in their circle. So she had to be close to Dot’s father’s age.
This lady did look exceedingly handsome for a woman in her mid-forties. She had far fewer gray hairs in her dark brown hair than Dot’s father, and she had not gone to fat. And, like all those Dot had mingled with since she’d been in Bath, this woman dressed in excellent taste.
While Dot played with the children and the cats, she pondered her father. Had the isolation back at Blandings contributed to his malaise? Judging from the lively way he was conversing with this woman, he must have missed being around people of his own age and background.
Coming to Bath had been the best thing they had ever done. For her father—and especially for Dot.