Page 41 of Purrfectly Outfoxed
“I do keep a good spreadsheet,” Tabitha mumbles, blushing as she stabs at her eggs. “And I’ll clean. I actually like cleaning, as long as Jasper doesn’t sabotage it.”
“I would never sabotage your cleaning. Maybe,” I add, when Tabitha shoots me a look.
“I can make inquiries,” Bea says, pouring coffee for all of us. “This town always needs help at the library, or at the florist’s. Doris at the café is hiring.”
“I could do a café.” Tabitha perks up. “That could work.”
“And perhaps you could use my laptop and do some writing in your spare time? Maybe you could freelance, or if you like writing fiction, you could do that self-publishing thing a lot of authors nowadays do.”
“I’d like that.” Tabitha’s voice is soft. “But, Bea. I’ll need some clothes.”
“Oh, heavens! Of course you would. It’s the one thing I didn’t think of. I’ll go into town today, and if you give me your size, I’ll get you some things to start you off.”
Tabitha blushes. “Thank you, Bea.”
“Of course. Anything you need, you let me know. I realize a person has to be pretty down on their luck to moonlight as a house pet. So I expect there’ll be some adjusting. But we’re family now,” Bea says simply. “We take care of each other.”
The word ‘family’ hits me square in the chest. I’ve never had that. Not really. My parents died when I was young, and I’ve been alone ever since. Drifting. Surviving. Never belonging.
Until now.
‘You OK?’Tabitha’s mental voice is gentle.
‘Yeah. Just... processing.’
‘Good processing or bad processing?’
‘The best processing.’
She slides her hand into mine under the counter and squeezes.
We eat breakfast together—as humans, at a table, like normal people—and it’s so surreal I have to keep reminding myself it’s real. This is my life now. This is my family.
After we clean up, Bea claps her hands together. “Right! We have work to do. Halloween is tonight, and this house isn’t going to decorate itself.”
“You want more decorations up?” I ask, looking around at the pumpkins and witches and black cats absolutely covering every surface.
“Of course I do. There’s the Halloween parade, then trick-or-treaters all evening. This is the most fun I have all year.” Bea gives us both a pointed look. “You’re both expected to help.” She’s already pulling boxes from the hall closet. “Besides, it’ll be fun!”
It is fun, actually. While Bea goes shopping for some clothes for Tabitha and a little extra food, we stay home and spend the afternoon stringing up orange lights, arranging pumpkins on the porch, hanging fake cobwebs from the eaves. Tabitha keeps getting tangled in the spiderwebs and blaming me, even though I’m clearly innocent.
“You put it there on purpose!” she accuses, pulling sticky white strands from her hair.
“I’m on the roof, Tabby. How would I even?—”
“You threw it at me!”
“I absolutely did not?—”
“I literally saw you,” she says. “You made a snowball out of cotton spiderweb and chucked it at my head while I was fixing the window cling.”
“I was aiming for your shoulder,” I protest, which only makes her laugh louder.
Her hair shines in the afternoon light, haloed with clingy fibers, and I have never wanted to make out with someone in a pile of fake cobwebs more in my life.
“You’re insufferable,” she proclaims, but her smile says otherwise.
We bicker our way through the rest of the decorating, and I’m pretty sure no one on the block has a better-looking haunted house than we do by the time we’re finished.