orange-and-green jungle flowers. The look was supposed to be one of relaxed sophistication. Rani peered at herself in the mirror and couldn't decide if she'd pulled off the desired style or not. She'd achieved her usual loud impact, however. She clipped her hair into a loose coil on top of her head and headed down the hall to prepare herself a peaceful breakfast.
Zipp was already in the kitchen ahead of her, sunning himself on the windowsill. He flipped an inquiring ear in her direction as she opened the refrigerator door.
"Did you have a good time running around in the middle of the night?" Rani asked as she fixed a bowl of cereal for herself. The cat didn't bother to reply. "I noticed you didn't stay out very long last night. What happened? Decide a warm bed was a better option than a cold night of hunting? Better watch it, cat. You might be getting soft and civilized."
Zipp appeared neither soft nor civilized as he stretched out his battered frame in the sunlight, but he did look decidedly content. Rani thought about that for a moment, wondering how old the cat was. He had been full grown when she'd adopted him, so she had no certain knowledge of his age. He'd just appeared out of nowhere one rainy night at her home in Santa Rosa. But he still had the strength and agility of an animal in the prime of its life, so she didn't think he was old.
"A mature cat who knew a good thing when he saw it, huh, Zipp? Is that what you were when you landed on my doorstep and demanded a meal?"
Zipp began the deep rumbling that, for him, passed for a purr. Then he roiled off the windowsill, landed on all four feet on the counter and dived for the floor. He ambled across the room and stood waiting impatiently to have the kitchen door opened for him. With a sigh, Rani obediently got to her feet and performed the service.
She watched him stalk out into the chilly sunlight. A moment later it became obvious where he was heading: straight for Flint's cottage. Rani leaned in the doorway, sipping her coffee and watching as the animal lazily made his way through the garden. A few moments later he reached the front step of the cottage. Rani didn't hear the demanding meow, but it wasn't long before Flint opened the door.
He looked across the garden as he stood waiting for the cat to enter. When he saw Rani, Flint nodded a solemn good morning and then shut the door. Cat and man disappeared.
So Flint was up and apparently working. Rani considered that, aware of a pleased sense of satisfaction. She could only hope he was accomplishing something. Smiling a little to herself, she shut her own door and started in on the few chores required in her vacation home.
An hour later there was still no sign of Flint. He wasn't in the garden, and she hadn't heard the Jeep leave. She had to assume he was still working. Curiosity began to get the better of Rani's sense of discretion. She put down the British-style mystery she had been reading and wandered out into the rapidly warming day. It came as no great surprise to find herself standing outside Flint's door a short time later. Rani stood still, listening for the clack of a typewriter. She heard nothing, and when Flint opened the door without any warning, she jumped a good half foot.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized idly, studying her with grave interest. "What are you doing out here? Listening at keyholes?"
"I just came to ransom my cat."
"You'll have to wake him up, first. He's sleeping on top of my desk." Flint stood back, silently inviting her into the small cottage.
A little warily Rani stepped over the threshold. "Your desk?"
"I turned the kitchen table into one." He closed the door and nodded toward the room's single table. A small portable electric typewriter stood in the center. It was surrounded by notebooks, paper and several weighty texts.
Rani cast a quick eye over the lot, ignoring Zipp who was, indeed, sound asleep between a dictionary and a thick, leather-bound tome,
Zipp was already in the kitchen ahead of her, sunning himself on the windowsill. He flipped an inquiring ear in her direction as she opened the refrigerator door.
"Did you have a good time running around in the middle of the night?" Rani asked as she fixed a bowl of cereal for herself. The cat didn't bother to reply. "I noticed you didn't stay out very long last night. What happened? Decide a warm bed was a better option than a cold night of hunting? Better watch it, cat. You might be getting soft and civilized."
Zipp appeared neither soft nor civilized as he stretched out his battered frame in the sunlight, but he did look decidedly content. Rani thought about that for a moment, wondering how old the cat was. He had been full grown when she'd adopted him, so she had no certain knowledge of his age. He'd just appeared out of nowhere one rainy night at her home in Santa Rosa. But he still had the strength and agility of an animal in the prime of its life, so she didn't think he was old.
"A mature cat who knew a good thing when he saw it, huh, Zipp? Is that what you were when you landed on my doorstep and demanded a meal?"
Zipp began the deep rumbling that, for him, passed for a purr. Then he roiled off the windowsill, landed on all four feet on the counter and dived for the floor. He ambled across the room and stood waiting impatiently to have the kitchen door opened for him. With a sigh, Rani obediently got to her feet and performed the service.
She watched him stalk out into the chilly sunlight. A moment later it became obvious where he was heading: straight for Flint's cottage. Rani leaned in the doorway, sipping her coffee and watching as the animal lazily made his way through the garden. A few moments later he reached the front step of the cottage. Rani didn't hear the demanding meow, but it wasn't long before Flint opened the door.
He looked across the garden as he stood waiting for the cat to enter. When he saw Rani, Flint nodded a solemn good morning and then shut the door. Cat and man disappeared.
So Flint was up and apparently working. Rani considered that, aware of a pleased sense of satisfaction. She could only hope he was accomplishing something. Smiling a little to herself, she shut her own door and started in on the few chores required in her vacation home.
An hour later there was still no sign of Flint. He wasn't in the garden, and she hadn't heard the Jeep leave. She had to assume he was still working. Curiosity began to get the better of Rani's sense of discretion. She put down the British-style mystery she had been reading and wandered out into the rapidly warming day. It came as no great surprise to find herself standing outside Flint's door a short time later. Rani stood still, listening for the clack of a typewriter. She heard nothing, and when Flint opened the door without any warning, she jumped a good half foot.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized idly, studying her with grave interest. "What are you doing out here? Listening at keyholes?"
"I just came to ransom my cat."
"You'll have to wake him up, first. He's sleeping on top of my desk." Flint stood back, silently inviting her into the small cottage.
A little warily Rani stepped over the threshold. "Your desk?"
"I turned the kitchen table into one." He closed the door and nodded toward the room's single table. A small portable electric typewriter stood in the center. It was surrounded by notebooks, paper and several weighty texts.
Rani cast a quick eye over the lot, ignoring Zipp who was, indeed, sound asleep between a dictionary and a thick, leather-bound tome,
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