She didn’t immediately move. I waited, feigning patience. Worst case, I’d resort to returning to the second floor and finding an alternate staircase. But I suspected this unpleasant human obstacle would impede my entry anywhere.
“All right,” she eventually conceded, not sounding thrilled. “This way.” She opened the door she’d emerged through, then glared at me, shooing me past her with her hand.
I considered spitting on it, but decided not to be so petty. After all, if I were in her position, living in a condominium complex where some stranger appeared and claimed to have a valid reason for strolling the stairway, maybe I’d be equally nasty till proof was provided. But I liked to think I’d at least pretend cordiality until the truth was established, one way or the other.
We stopped in a wide hallway, well-lit through roomy windows along one wall that revealed a small balcony. Along the other wall were several doors bearing numbers starting with three. Two doors were decorated with woven wreaths of tree branches trimmed with artificial, bright-colored flowers. Another was garnished with a gold and purple pennant extolling the Los Angeles Lakers.
I reached into a pocket of my roomy purse and drew out the letter Wanda had left with me. I’d reviewed it, of course, to ensure it appeared legitimate, legally speaking. After all, in addition to being a pet-sitter, I’m also an attorney. This wasn’t a binding kind of document, though. It was short and lacked substance, basically stating what I’d already said: Wanda was a resident and pet-sitter at Brigadoon, and she had delegated to me her authority to care for some owners’ animals this weekend. I also handed over one of my pet-sitting business cards.
“Which units?” barked the bitch, handing back the letter.
I wasn’t about to tell her. Sure, I was a visitor with limited reason to be there. But her attempts at intimidation didn’t exactly provide unquestionable credentials for her presence. What if she, too, was a stranger to Brigadoon and simply wanted to know which residents were away, for nefarious reasons of her own?
“Sorry,” I said as pleasantly as I could muster. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“That’s unacceptable,” she shouted so loudly that the walls around us seemed to tremble. Could she be causing an earthquake? This was, after all, Southern California.
But, no, someone turned a corner from what I assumed was the elevator corridor, shoving a mini shopping cart along the brown textured carpeting. It most likely caused the vibration, not Ms. Obnoxious’s loud voice. The person holding the handle was a man, maybe mid-forties, with a receding hairline and bulky build. The metal cart held several large sacks. He’d obviously heard the woman’s bellow, since he barreled down the hallway toward us.
“Everything all right, Margaret?” he asked as he drew near.
“Not at all, James,” she responded. “Wanda Villareal supposedly gave this woman”—she shot her evil eyes toward me—“keys and permission to come in to take care of pets this weekend.” She spat out the word “pets” as if she referred to the vilest of animal excretions instead of some innocent creatures who might deposit them.
Which gave me an indication of why she was so nasty.
He glanced quizzically toward me beneath brown brows that dipped sharply at the sides.
“Hi.” I put perkiness into my tone. Would he be an ally or an enemy? And why, in this perfectly innocuous situation, should I even have to worry about such things? “I’m Kendra Ballantyne, pet-sitter.” I handed him a card, too.
“Good to meet you, Kendra.” His smile seemed welcoming, and I relaxed a little. “Wanda has mentioned you. I’m James Jerome. I live down the hall.” He gestured in front of him. “Wanda watched my guinea pigs recently, when I went out of town.”
Beside me, I saw the woman he’d identified as Margaret shudder a lot more than the hallway had. “Guinea pigs,” she repeated with utter scorn. “Pretty soon I’ll get enough support from our association board and other residents to ban rodents from our lovely condominiums. What if your creatures ever get out of your unit?” Her face screwed up into such a creepy look of contempt that I considered taking my cell phone from my purse and snapping a picture. I could use it to scare off hawks from my clients’ homes to ensure that no small pet was swept away.
A nearby door opened, and a man and woman walked into the hall.
“If you had your way, Margaret Shiler,” James said with equal disdain, “you’d have all pets banned from our complex. Pets have been allowed since Brigadoon opened seven years ago. There are rules, and all responsible pet owners follow them. If you didn’t like how things were here, you shouldn’t have bought a unit.”
“Except for allowing animals”—again, that contemptuous tone—“this place is utterly charming. That’s why I ran for the board, so I can help fix what’s broken here. That damned, antiquated pets-permitted policy—I’ll be lobbying even more strongly against it, starting at our next board meeting.” She let her eyes bore into mine once more. “And if that bothers your dear friend Wanda, tough luck. The woman is obviously not acting in the association’s best interests. Look at how she hands over keys and her responsibility to a total stranger.”
Meaning me. I opened my mouth to protest but was immediately interrupted.
“What’s going on, Margaret?” This from the woman who’d emerged through the now-closed door. She was tall and slender, with grooves beside her mouth that suggested she scowled a lot.
“We have an unwelcome visitor.” Margaret proceeded to introduce me and state my reason for being there.
“She’s very welcome,” contradicted James, earning a small smile of relief from me. At least I had someone here who wasn’t ready to toss me out of one of the nearby windows.
“Ruth is considering running for the next opening on the condo association board,” said the other man, who joined us. He gestured toward the woman who had asked about me, presumably Ruth. He had a large, upswept mane of salt-and-pepper hair above squinting blue eyes. “She feels nearly as strongly about pets around here as you do, Margaret.”
“That’s excellent news, Ruth. And, Teddy, with your background in public relations, I’m sure you can get her elected.” For the first time, Margaret acted semi-human and approached Ruth, giving her a small but stiff hug. “Together, we’ll fix what’s wrong with Brigadoon!”
I half expected an invisible orchestra to start playing the music indicating the end of act one of whatever drama we were acting out. I glanced at James, who scowled his obvious anger.
“There’s nothing wrong with Brigadoon,” he said coldly. “And I’m glad you’ve all given me this heads-up. I’ll fight the election of any resident who wants to ban pets. A lot of us love animals. That’s one reason many of us chose to buy units here. Nice to meet you, Kendra.” He stalked down the hall, pushing his shopping cart in front of him.
Leaving me with the evil three.
Well, hell. Hating me was their problem. I had a reason to be there, and I knew I didn’t look like a burglar. I’m in my mid-thirties, reasonably presentable, wearing casual clothes today, sure, but my shoulder-length brown hair was nice enough, and I always wore makeup to enhance the best features of my ordinary but relatively okay face. I was sure I didn’t scare them.
Even so, I sighed, then said, “I’m sorry to hear there’s such a controversy here, but I’ve just come to take care of the animals I was assigned.” And if I could do anything to help their owners chuck these nasty characters and their hatred of pets out of there, I’d consider it. “Please excuse me.”
As I started to turn toward one of the wreathed units—its number was on my list—a scream issued from behind me, causing me to cringe.
It was Margaret. “There’s that damned cat again!” she shouted.
I turned once more, and saw a streak of light yellow fur disappear down at the end of the hall. I guessed it was a small ginger cat—no, kitten, considering the size.
I inhaled sharply. Wanda had warned me about a certain little kitty—an indoor, apartment sort not intended to roam outside at all, especially at Brigadoon, which had rules against such activities. Wanda had taken on its care this week. Which made me its weekend guardian.
“That isn’t Lady Cuddles, is it?” I asked, glancing again at Margaret. Would someone who clearly hated animals as much as she did even know a cat’s name?
When she glared at me and nodded angrily, I cried, “Oh, no!”
Ignoring Margaret and her equally nasty neighbors, I hurried down the hallway in the direction the kitty had dashed.
Chapter Two
LADY CUDDLES WAS every bit as elusive as Wanda had warned. Fortunately, James Jerome assisted me after he saw the kitten run by him. We finally cornered her at the far end of some additional twists in the hall. She’d found a decorative ficus plant and leaped into its upper leaves. As I reached to remove her, she hissed and extended her claws. Her blue metal ID tag, a cute little kitten face attached to a white mesh collar, sparkled as she moved, reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the nearest window.
“Hi, Lady Cuddles,” I said soothingly. “We don’t know each other, but I’m here to take you home.”
“Here.” James took off his cotton shirt and handed it to me. “Wrap this around your hands when you reach for her. I have some guinea pig food in my pockets, but it’s all vegetarian, and I don’t think it’ll tempt a cat.”
I noticed he didn’t offer to attempt to pluck Lady Cuddles off the plant. But the kitten was my responsibility, so I couldn’t complain. I did use his shirt as protection, though, as I reached out and retrieved the clearly unhappy little feline from her precarious perch. I expected she’d try harder to claw me in an attempt to get away. Instead, she became absolutely docile in my hands.
“Good girl,” I praised, as I hugged her against my chest—clad in a sweatshirt on this Saturday in January, rather than one of the nicer garments I wore on days I both pet-sat and practiced law. I’d be heading to my law office later, but no client meetings were scheduled, so dressing down was de rigueur.
“Mrrrow,” responded Lady Cuddles, rubbing her small, fuzzy face against me, her eyes closed in what appeared to be ecstasy.
She definitely lived up to the cuddly part of her name. I hugged her closer, won over by her sweet change of mood.
I unwrapped James’s shirt from my hands and handed it back. “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks, also, for sticking up for pets’ rights against Margaret and friends. Do you really think they could outlaw residents’ keeping animals here?” That would be awful for Wanda, who had become chief pet-sitter at the complex since moving in a few months ago. Many condo owners were in the film industry—surprise! Burbank is an adjunct of the Hollywood area—and they often traveled for meetings and movie shoots. That kept my fellow PSCSC member nice and busy, along with clients she’d had before she moved there.
“Not if I can help it,” James replied grimly. “A lot of us own pets and, far as I know, we all care for them responsibly. Not too much noise, or droppings not picked up, or anything like that. Margaret’ll face a lot of opposition if she tries to change anything. We’d all rather get rid of her than our beloved animals.”
“But those other people—”
“The Bertinettis?”
I hadn’t heard their last name before. “Ruth and Teddy?”
James nodded, then shrugged. His expression was mildly bemused. “I don’t know them well. They moved in about six months ago, and I don’t think they have any pets. But the idea of their moving here and wanting to make major changes like that . . .” He scowled. “They can go right back to wherever they came from, if that’s their attitude. And I’ll do all I can to keep any of them from any position of authority here.”
Lady Cuddles wiggled in my arms. “I’d better get her back home,” I told James. “I’ll let Wanda know everything that went on here this afternoon. She’ll probably be in touch with you to help work out a plan to protect pet ownership. If you don’t hear from her first, please contact her.”
“Thanks, Kendra. I’m glad to have met you.” He seemed to really see me for the first time. Did I detect a glimmer of interest? Probably, since his gaze headed toward my left hand, which clutched Lady Cuddles. I wore no ring.
But my emotions were definitely involved with someone else. Someone really outstanding.
I made sure my smile in return was remote. “I’ll be interested to hear, from Wanda, what happens around here.”
AS I SUSPECTED, I had to guess at how Lady Cuddles wound up where she’d been. A window in her owners’ unit was raised so slightly that I couldn’t imagine one of James’s guinea pigs slipping through, let alone a kitten. Of course, a few guinea pigs grow big, so that might not be an appropriate analogy. In any event, Lady Cuddles must be basically boneless to have gotten through there. The window opened onto a balcony several feet from the balcony of the adjoining unit. The building’s outer wall was stucco, not entirely smooth but not easy to get kitty claws into for edging along it. Had Lady Cuddles leaped?
I might never know, but I did see a window open next door. Still, how would she have gotten out of that unit and into the hall?
I asked her, before all this surmising made my brain ache. She looked at me with her baby blue eyes, her pointed little ears at attention and her small white whiskers twitching. She was so adorable that I had to hug her again.
I have to admit I’m more of a dog person than a cat lover. My own furkid is a tricolor Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Lexie. The felines I’ve pet-sat for have been varied in looks and temperament, and tend to be more standoffish than cuddly.
But I really liked Lady Cuddles. Which made me worry about her all the more as I attempted to lock all windows, check every vent, and close off all other potential avenues of escape. Sure, I worried about my liability in the event one of my charges got loose and disappeared, or worse. But I had my clients sign contracts. I wasn’t sure Wanda did the same. My insurance should cover both me and my company, Critter TLC, LLC, in the awful event of Lady Cuddles having an exit strategy I couldn’t conceive of.