Page 72 of Code Name: Atticus

We stayed through dinner,which was Travis’ production. Nicole presented each course with the same flair I imagined she used at their restaurant in downtown Calistoga. The main course, duck, was tender and pink, the vegetables artfully arranged, and the wine pairings had obviously been selected with care.

“Everything was fabulous,” I said as I finished the mandarin-orange panna cotta served for dessert. “It must be hard to get a reservation at your place.”

“Travis recently received two James Beard nominations,” Nicole said proudly.

“Not that I won,” Travis muttered.

“The judges were bribed. I’m certain of it,” Leslie joked, raising a glass in Travis’ direction.

“Thanks, Mom,” he responded. I loved that he called her that, knowing my parents would want it the same way.

Stories from the past mixed with present updates. Joslyn’s husband told veterinary emergency stories—the parrot that wouldn’t stop cursing in Italian, the iguana that ate someone’s wedding rings, the cat that was secretly two cats that the owner kept switching.

“Wait, what?” I asked about the last one.

“She had two identical cats,” Keith explained. “She’d bring one in, then switch them and bring the other, claiming the first one was still sick.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“One had a black mark on his stomach that the other didn’t. It took me three visits to notice.”

“Remember Mason’s cats?” said Nicole, nudging her brother.

“Oh God, not this story,” Atticus groaned.

“Seventeen cats,” Leslie said.

“It was not seventeen,” he protested.

“Seventeen,” M confirmed. “I counted.”

“I was running a feline witness protection program,” he said with complete seriousness. “Very classified.”

“You were nine,” his mother said.

“Age is irrelevant in intelligence ops.”

“Is that what you told the neighbors when the cats had kittens in their shed?” Joslyn asked.

“I told them it was a matter of national security.”

“Mrs. Henderson didn’t buy it,” Nicole laughed.

“Mr. Henderson saluted,” Atticus countered.

As we prepared to leave,Leslie pulled me aside while Atticus loaded the car with the copious amounts of food she’d insisted we take.

“It’s wonderful to see you two together,” she said, hugging me tightly. “You’ll make each other very happy. I’m certain of it.”

The sisters made Atticus promise to bring me for another visit again soon.

As we drove away, I watched the house disappear in the darkness. The warmth of being with Atticus’ family was quickly eclipsed by his tension.

“Pull over,” I finally said.

“What?”

“Pull over. You promised you’d tell me what’s wrong.”