7c6cdd7d45cb035b54aafd3ac9eb9cc8

“Oh, I wanted to thank you, Max,” she said, dancing up to me with a definite swing in her step. “Before I met you I had a miserable life. I mean, Boomer was nice, but a dog isn’t the kind of company a mouse likes to keep. And now look at this.” She gestured generously in the direction of Hector and Helga and their family, two hundred strong. “This is what I call living. These are the kind of friends I’ve been hoping to find for a long time.”

“Not friends—family!” Helga cried. “Thanks, Max, for introducing us to such a wonderful new friend.”

I slapped a paw to my brow.“Oh, God,” I said.

“I think it’s wonderful what you’ve done here, Max,” said Elsa. “Create such an amazing home for us. Keep up the good work, and don’t hesitate to drop by any time.”

“Yeah, drop by any time, Max,” said Hector, and raised a thick piece of kibble—my kibble—in a salute.

And as I staggered back up the stairs, and into the family room, the blush that crept up my cheeks was one of both shame and indignation.

“No dice?” asked Odelia when she saw me emerge from the basement—or I should probably say the party zone.

“No dice,” I said. “They like to party, and they’re very grateful for introducing them to a new friend.”

Odelia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.“I should have known.” She swiftly got up. “Well, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

But she held up a hand.“I’ll take care of this from now on, Max. You don’t need to concern yourself anymore.”

And with these words, which I experienced like a verbal slap across the face, she disappeared up the stairs, then slammed the bedroom door.

Chase, still sitting on the couch, yelled,“What’s going on?”

Tough to be a non-cat speaker in a cat-speaking house, I guess.

Chapter 36

After running a quick errand in town, Odelia headed straight to the Riviera Country Club where the social event of the season was taking place. She’d opted not to bring her cats along this time, as she was still a little upset that they’d allowed her house to be turned into a pigsty—or a mouse-sty, to be more precise.

She understood why they were reluctant to deal with the mice forcefully and effectively. Max and the others were simply too kind. And she appreciated that kindness, absolutely she did. But right now she was a little upset, and didn’t want to see her cats.

So she arrived at the country club all by her lonesome, having decided to accept the invitation by Jacqueline Goossens for this first-ever joint meeting of the Gnomeos and the Maria Power Society.

The meeting took place in one of the larger conference rooms, and Odelia was surprised to find that there were so many participants in attendance. When she’d first heard of the respective clubs she hadn’t thought so many people were involved.

Even though Maria Power had retired a decade ago, clearly she was still popular.

Jacqueline greeted her at the entrance, and gave her a badge to pin to her blouse.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Jacqueline, beaming with delight. “This is a happy, happy day. Even though the circumstances could have been different—should have been different.” A mournful look passed across her face, but then she was brave again. “I hope you’ll join us. The Gnomeos is a happy club, and a celebration of all that Maria Power represents: talent, beauty, class, style, and of course an infectious positivity.”

“Thanks,” said Odelia. “I’ll think about it.”

She wasn’t exactly a fan of fan clubs, but didn’t want to insult the woman, who’d clearly put a lot of effort into this unique meeting.

She strolled through the room, glanced at the different stalls showcasing everything from DVDs to posters and pictures—signed or otherwise—and took a seat near the back. Soon a new board would be chosen, and new bylaws for the newly formed fan club.

It was a pity, she felt, that Dan couldn’t be there. He would have loved it, she was sure. And as she glanced around, she thought there were at least two hundred people there, many that she recognized, and smiled or waved to several of them in greeting.

And so for the next two hours she did what she did best: she listened and took notes, talked to some people, and shot a couple of pictures, and constructed a potential story in her mind. All the while, though, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this was all simply an exercise in futility: very soon now the Gazette would have to close its doors, and she would be a reporter no more.

Dan had once promised her that when he retired she’d be able to take over, but he’d never actually finalized anything, figuring he still had a long way to go before he decided to enjoy a well-earned retirement.

Instead, he was going to enjoy a well-earned stretch in prison, and she had no legal right, or financial means, to continue the paper. She was, after all, merely an employee.