Fat Cat Takes The Cake

Chase smiled at her business partner and surrogate grandmother. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll open it for you.”

“You know that’s a federal offense,” Julie Larson said.

“Julie.” Anna put on her stern-grandparent face, which looked incongruous with her soft gray hair and her periwinkle eyes, much more used to smiling. “You don’t always have to be a lawyer.” Anna wore her usual bright sweater with a plain T-shirt and jeans. This sweater was a rough, burlap-like material in aqua and bright green, worn over a pale blue shirt.

“But it is, Grandma.” Julie, sitting next to Anna, nudged the older woman slightly and fished a marshmallow out of her cocoa with a spoon. Her eyes were identical to Anna’s, but set into a face that was forty years younger than Anna’s seventy-two and framed by dark brown hair. She kept her hair short and practical for her new job with Bud Ellison’s small real estate firm. Chase thought her good friend seemed much happier and more relaxed since she had left the district attorney’s office.

“Your honor,” Anna began.

“That’s for judges, Grandma,” Julie said.

“Your high horse-ness, then. I give Charity permission to open my mail. Wait.” She took the envelope Chase was still waving in front of her. “Who is it from?” Anna saw the return address. “It’s the Batter Battle!” She ripped the envelope open and pulled several sheets of paper from it, quickly scanning the cover letter. “I’ve been invited to participate in the Minny Batter Battle.”

After fanning her face in amazement, she slipped off the stool, leaving the seat spinning and creaking, and danced around the kitchen.

Chase watched her with amusement. “This is a big deal, I take it?”

“Anyone can apply to enter the Battle,” Julie explained. “But only a few are selected for invitations every year. Grandma hasn’t gotten an invitation before.”

“This’ll show that Grace Pilsen,” Anna said. “She’s called me three years in a row to tell me she was invited. And to gloat. That Grace Pilsen.” Anna gritted her teeth at the thought.

Anna’s cell phone rang. She looked at the ID and grunted.

“Who is it?” Julie asked.

“That Grace Pilsen, I’ll bet,” Chase mouthed. The woman owned a bakery called The Pilsener. Anna was quite vocal about her opinion that using the word the in the shop name was pretentious. Chase thought The Pilsener sounded very much like a beer shop, but no alcohol at all was available there.

“Hello? Grace?”

Chase and Julie high-fived behind Anna’s back.

“You did? That’s nice,” Anna said, grimacing. “Yes, I know. Yes, I know. Yes, you’ve told me that. I think we must get our mail at the exact same time. I got mine just now, too . . . What do you think? The same thing you got. Listen, I’m very busy. I’ll call you later.”

Anna turned to the two young women with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “That felt good.”

“So, that Grace Pilsen got hers today, too?” Julie asked. “I was hoping she wouldn’t get invited this year.”

“That’s a little too much to hope for,” Anna said. “She helped found the Minny Batter Battle, after all. I believe the name was her idea. After all, she thought up the awful name of The Pilsener for her own place.”

“Minny for Minneapolis, I guess. How long has it been going on?” Chase asked. She had moved back to Minneapolis from Chicago last year and didn’t remember the contest from before she left.

“Three years,” Julie said. “But, Grandma, just because she was on the original committee doesn’t mean she should take up one of the invitational slots every year.”

“I agree.” Anna shuffled through the application papers that had also been in the envelope. “She doesn’t even have a hand in the organizing anymore. But it is what it is.”

Anna had a great philosophy, Chase thought. “True.” She started humming “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables and headed for the small office that housed the computer Chase used to pay bills. It was off the kitchen, near the rear door.

She stuck a leg through the door before entering to keep Quincy from escaping.