Carol laughed. “Not quite. Son of Sparky, actually. That's Tommy.” The cat gave another swipe around Kate's leg and then disappeared into another room.
“Sparky ran away a few years ago. Never quite got the hang of the new house, I
guess.”
“Oh.” Kate felt an unexpected pang. For a cat who'd hissed and acted like she had no business invading his space at the orchard. “You never found him?”
Carol shook her head. “No. I keep hoping he'll come back. Half expect him
to show up with a dead mouse on the porch some morning. But, he's probably long gone by now.”
Carol wiped her hands on an apron as she moved into what was once the house's drawing room, where visitors used to wait. It was a cozy, faded oak-trimmed room with the same light rose-colored wallpaper Kate had convinced her mother to hang when she was ten. Still works, she thought.
“So, how was your trip?” Carol asked as she sat in an old velvet-cushioned
chair next to a round marble-topped lamp stand.
Kate put her bag down by the chair opposite her friend and sat. “Fine. Not as
long as I remember.”
“Well, perceptions change with time. You haven't been back for a while, remember?”
Kate gave a small smile. Was that a gentle dig directed at her? “Work keeps
me busy. Climbing the corporate ladder and all.”
She glanced around the well-appointed room, sprinkled with reading
material and tasteful antiques. She recognized some of the items from Carol's orchard house. “The house looks great.”
Carol returned a smile. “Well, it keeps me busy. Lots to dust. Between this,
the Community Center, and my sewing group, I never have a lack of anything to
do.”
Kate remembered Carol's sewing hobby. “Do you still get together with your
sewing buddies?”
“Oh, yes—weekly, here at the house. There's twelve of us now.” She smiled
impishly. “We call ourselves the Thread Heads.”
Kate laughed. “Well, as long as you're staying out of trouble.”
Carol's eyebrows arched giving her face an innocent look. “Oh, we do. Most
of the time.” She leaned forward. “Oh, Katie. It's so good to see you.”
“You too, Carol.” It really was.
Carol straightened a doily on the table. “From what your mother says, it sounds like you're doing very well.”
“Pretty well.”
“And you're going to do some work out at Nitrovex?”
“That's the plan. My company does corporate branding makeovers.” She thought she'd better explain. “That means we talk to companies and find out what they're about, then come up with new logos, letterhead, slogans, that sort of thing. It's kind of like when you get a makeover.”
Carol smiled. “Haven't had one of those in a while.”
“With your natural beauty? You don't need one.”
That got a dismissive hand wave. “Oh, shush. Well, with that kind of
buttering up I'm sure you'll do just fine at your job.”
Kate sighed. “I hope so. It's my first crack at a big account. Nitrovex has grown a lot.” Not that she knew much about what the company actually made,
despite her parents once working there. She could count the times she'd visited
them on two hands. That and a mind-numbing field trip for eighth grade science
were the only times she'd set foot in the place.
“Yes, John Wells has done wonders with that company. Always had a good
