Cat Coming Home Read Online Free PDF

tall man, well over six feet, large boned and broad shouldered, his red hair and beard clearly showing his solid Scots-Irish heritage. As he headed for the house, his long stride seemed better suited to tramping the rocky green hills of the old country. He was dressed this morning in the same faded jeans and dark jogging shoes that he usually wore, and a freshly pressed brown denim work shirt. His profile, against the dark wood of the front door, was craggy and lean, his red eyebrows shaggy, his short, neatly trimmed beard streaked with gray. Maudie opened the door before he rang the bell, her smile showing her delight at his presence—Scotty always seemed to make people feel happy. In the quiet lull from just below, as Ryan laid down her crowbar and hammer, Scotty’s and Maudie’s voices carried clearly up the hill.
    “The windows’ll be here this morning,” Scotty said, “after all the delay. Then it’ll begin to look like home.”
    “Like a real studio,” Maudie replied, a smile in her voice. “There’s coffee in the kitchen, and some sweet rolls.” As she and Scotty moved inside, up at the top of the hill, an ancient brown pickup came out of the side street and turned down Maudie’s street, slowing as it passed the house. The cats saw the driver looking, though the windows were so dirty he was little more than a dark smear, a pale face peering out through the murky glass.
    “What’s so interesting?” Joe said, bristling. The truck eased past, down the hill, the driver gunned the engine, turned onto the side street, and was gone. A brown pickup, dented and muddy, dark mud spattered heavily on its backwheels, bumper, and license plate. The cats stared after it uneasily. The morning was silent again, and as the sun began to melt away the fog, a cacophony of birdsong made Dulcie look up and lick her whiskers. They heard the Skilsaw start down in the new studio as Scotty got to work. Dulcie yawned, and the two cats stretched out together in a patch of sun, waiting for it to warm them. Dulcie said, “Maudie and Benny will be all alone when David goes back to Atlanta. It has to be hard, grieving for her son, leaving all her friends, and now to be alone, knowing no one in the village.”
    “She knows Ryan and Clyde, and Scotty,” Joe said. “Anyway, she has family here.”
    Dulcie sneezed with disgust. “Her sister? That prissy Carlene Colletto? And those two nephews? I don’t see them lending a lot of support, they didn’t even help her move in. Certainly the third one won’t be any help, he’s cooling his heels in prison.”
    “The one nephew’s all right. Jared. It’s the other two you want to steer clear of,” Joe said. “The younger one, Kent. What a sleaze.” They watched Ryan start down the hill, tool belt slung around her waist and carrying her clipboard, where she always had a tangle of receipts and to-do lists.
    Below, Maudie came out of the house and headed down the driveway toward the street where her car was parked. The little boy followed her out, but then sat down on the low front steps as if he was too tired to go farther. He was a frail child, maybe six, thin and pale with light brown hair tucked down over his ears reaching toward hiscollar. “His face is so drawn,” Dulcie said, feeling a deep pity for the little boy who had lost his father, who had seen his father shot and killed right before him.
    Hurrying to the car, Maudie looked around with a quick intensity, despite her soft demeanor. She saw the street was empty, but glanced up once at Benny, seeming as wary as a matronly cottontail watching her vulnerable young. Turning to the car, she used her electronic key to pop the trunk open. Beneath the rising lid the cats could see a load of plastic bags stamped with the familiar names of local shops: Molena Point Gourmet Kitchen, Dolly’s Linen Den, The Village Christmas Boutique. Maudie didn’t yet have her moving boxes unpacked, but she wasn’t wasting any time preparing for