Page 26 of You've Got Hate Mail
“Fluffy hates catnip,” Lavender says.
“It’s a new kind from the farmer’s market.”
“Is it organic?”
“Yes.”
He dangles whatever’s on the end of the string in front of the cat, who lifts her head and sniffs, but doesn’t move.
“C’mon, Fluffy,” he says softly. “Fish for dinner if you chase the catnip.”
He’s so patient.
No yelling.
No frustration.
Just a quiet persistence in trying to get the cat to move.
Much like he had a quiet persistence when checking out my injuries in the bathroom this morning, even though I’m pretty sure he wanted to yell at me.
And I need to quit admiring anything about him.
Single dads are on my no-no list.
Everyone, in fact, is on my no-no list.
And I’m only here for a week.
Two, tops. Just long enough to find a new job and get over myself.
I creep around the garden while listening to Lavender and Heath attempt to talk the cat into moving, then dash the last little way to the main house’s back door.
I’m starting my laundry in the mudroom off the kitchen when Mabel and Ginny join me.
The looks on their faces—especially as they notice my dick shirt—crap, crap, crap.
My heart sinks.
I’m being kicked out.
I’ve caused too much chaos even when I’ve beentryingto be good today, and now I’m being asked to leave, just like I was asked to leave last Thanksgiving at my sister Aurora’s house when I caused too much chaos with my nieces and nephews.
I thought it would take at least a few days, but here we are.
“I swear, I can be quieter and calmer,” I blurt. If I start the washing machineright this second, I can buy myself at least two hours. Surely they won’t kick me out while my clothes are getting cleaned? “And I’ll order new shirts. I—I didn’t pack well, but my whole wardrobe is better than this, I swear. I just—the thing—it happened when I was due to do laundry, and I only thought I’d need a few days here, and so all of my good clothes are at home. Dirty.”
They both squint at me as I randomly hit various buttons and knobs, trying to get the machine to start.
Ginny’s eyes go round first. “Oh my stars, Cricket, no. We’re not sending you away.”
“Not at all,” Mabel agrees. “We don’t do that. But wearea little fuller than normal right now, and with the mother-in-law cottage out of commission for a few days?—”
“Oh, I don’t need plumbing. I’m not showering again for probably a week. Maybe ever. Honestly, I don’t know how Aunt Pip does it with walking around mostly naked. I can’t stand being naked right now, even in private, you know?”
“You still need to pee sometimes,” Ginny says.
“Or get a glass of water, or wash your hands,” Mabel adds.
