High C

15. Tough Cookies (Part 2)

Through a screen door Aunt Philomena looked like the singer on a band tee shirt that had been washed too many times. Her head of frizzy curls, chestnut brown where it wasn't grey, tilted back as she stared down a sizable nose and asked, "Password?" like she had a shotgun ready for intruders.

"Cookies!" Natasha answered waving a box in front of her.

The girls' aunt cracked a toothy grin. "That's the one!" she said excitedly and opened the door, its tight hinges allowing only one visitor to enter sideways at a time. Aunt Phil gave Natasha a warm hug and kiss. Bob let DeeDee squeeze through wondering whether the heavily lined, sticky with gloss, pursed lips would kiss him next or pass.

Pass.

"Hi there," she said, smiling still, but momentarily barring his entrance. She gently moved a ginger cat at her ankles aside with one slippered foot. "Out of the way, Grumps. We have company."

"Told you, Bob. She's a cat lady," Natasha said.

Phil eyed Bob curiously. "You like cats, Bob?"

"I sure do!" he lied with gusto. "What's not to like?" For this answer, Aunt Phil let him in. "Better to be tolerated than worshipped, I always say."

DeeDee raised her eyebrows at him as she and Natasha moved further into the foyer.

"Good," Phil said. "Can't trust a man who doesn't like cats."

"You don't trust men even if they do," Natasha teased her.

"It's true," Phil said to Bob. "No offence, but you're all useless."

"None taken," Bob chuckled, trying to pour on the smarmy charm. "We are useless. That's why I don't understand why you all keep putting us in charge of everything."

Phil stared at him as though the welcome wagon had come to a screeching halt. "That's the patriarchy, right? A laugh riot."

"It has its moments," Bob said, a joke, which like a blown up balloon escaping a tied end, farted out of the hallway, landing somewhere out of sight. "I mean it was fun while it lasted," he said quickly.

Phil sort of 'humphed' but ultimately a small appreciative smile let him off the hook. "Well, take your coats off gang. Stay a while."

"Oh no, we can't really," Natasha said. "We have a dinner party to get to. We just wanted drop the cookies off while they're fresh and of course I wanted to bring this man by so you could get a look at him and tell everyone how handsome he is. We'll come back on Boxing Day for a proper visit."

"How am I supposed to file my report based on just a drive-by? Let's at least have a coffee. Instant so it's faster." Phil jangled her box to sweeten the offer.

Bob saw his chance to earn a few points. "I don't know about you guys, but I'd love a coffee. We can hang out a few minutes, can't we?"

"It's just – " Natasha said, trying to communicate something to Bob with widened eyeballs.

"Gimmie your coats," Phil insisted merrily, removing Bob's first and haphazardly throwing it onto a hanging rack.

"Fifteen minutes is all," Natasha said as she and DeeDee began removing their own.

Bob wondered why they were so reluctant as he wandered further into the house and stood in the frame which led to the living room.

There were flowers everywhere, in print anyway. Flowers on the wallpaper, flowers on the carpet, flowers on the cushions and throws of a sofa, a pair of high backed armless chairs and one wicker throne. The patterns didn't match in a homespun sort of way. They were bright and loud and intentionally eclectic, and upon closer inspection, absolutely everything, from what Bob could tell, was completely covered in cat hair. As he mentally recoiled, he heard a strange 'chich' sound and felt his wrist suddenly cool and wet.