Page 46 of It Happened on the Lake

“The caretaker’s cottage—that’s what Gram called it—but yeah.” Harper was already walking through the huge double doors and into the foyer.

Beth followed after her. “It’s like being in a time capsule and teleported back to the sixties.” Beth dropped the bag of wet clothes next to the cat carrier near the stairs. She left her purse on one of the bottom steps. “I’d forgotten about this staircase, how it runs up each side of the entry to meet on the top floor—so cool.”

“I guess.”

“For sure!”

Flipping on lights, Harper called for the cat as she headed into the parlor. “Jinx. Kitty? Come on, Jinx.”

“You have a cat?” Beth asked, catching up to her.

“Yeah. Inherited.”

“One that escaped the bone yard?”

“No, not from my grandma, those are long gone. Jinx was—is?—my daughter’s cat, but then she went off to college so, at least for now, he’s mine.”

“Oh. I thought you were always a dog person,” Beth said, running a finger over the edge of the liquor cabinet and eyeing the tall windows with their dusty curtains and the furniture that was decades old.

“All animals, but yes, growing up we had a dog. Bandit,” Harper said, remembering the shaggy brown mutt with long ears and a black mask. Even now, years later, she felt a little pang in her heart when she thought of him. “Gone now.” She cleared her throat. “A long time ago.” She turned her attention back to searching for the missing cat. “I’m afraid Jinx may have gotten out.” She walked to the door off the kitchen and found it ajar, just as she’d left it last night. “Damn.” Though she and Jinx had never really bonded, she didn’t want to lose him.

“He’s gone?” Beth asked, as she pushed past the swinging doors and into the kitchen with its massive stove and double refrigerators, oversized sink, and marble counters.

Harper shrugged. “Dunno. I hope not.” But what were the chances? If nothing else, the damned cat was an escape artist. He’d proved that time and time again in the past when she and Dawn had lived in Santa Rosa. How many times had Joel had to climb into the lemon tree or onto the roof, or go searching through the neighborhood for the damned cat? Too many to count. Once Jinx had disappeared for three weeks, only to show up, thin and haggard, his collar missing, a new notch in his ear. And now? In this new place with an enormous house and an entire island? What were the chances that he would return here?

She didn’t want to think about it. Nor how Dawn would react if the cat didn’t show up again.

Harper checked on the food and water she’d left out earlier.

Untouched.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“So what are your plans?” Beth asked.

“My plans?” She gave off a little huff. “If only I knew.”

“No idea?”

“Well,” she said, shutting the door. “I had thought I might live in the cottage while I fix this place up. I knew it would need work.”

“To . . . sell?” Beth said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Probably. But I have to scrap that idea because it turns out the cottage is a total wreck. Literally falling apart.”

“It can probably be salvaged.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“Yet,” Beth said, looking through the window that opened to the front of the house and offered a view of the parking apron and garage. “Insurance might be able to help.”

“Maybe.” If Gram’s incompetent lawyers had kept it up.

Harper went through the butler’s pantry to the living room, caught a glimpse of the decanter of whiskey or whatever it was she’d left on the side table.A shot of hard liquor would go down smoothly right now, she thought. It might calm her jangled nerves and take the edge off the pain she felt in her jaw, shoulders, and hip, but she left it be. It may well be “five o’clock somewhere,” but, she reminded herself, it was barely noon in Almsville, Oregon.

“This view is incredible,” Beth said, catching up with her and peering out the windows.

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