Page 25 of Autumn at the Cat Cafe

“He never told me. And that doesn’t change anything.” Panic started to rise. She could see he was seriously considering Percival’s offer. What would that do to her business if he did? And what if...? Her stomach lurched. What if Perry Percival moved into the apartment across from her?

Sir jumped into her lap. She furiously petted him.

Leo frowned. “Via?”

“I’ll do anything you want,” she muttered. “Clean Second Chapter by myself, personally introduce you to every single person in Pecan Corner, catalog every dust bunny in Earl’s apartment—”

“It’s okay.” He touched her arm. “I’m not going to sell to him.”

She looked down at his hand on her sweater sleeve. He pulled it back and she lifted her gaze, seeing the concern in his eyes. It was almost jarring—she’d already grown used to him being inscrutable. But she had to make him understand how dire this was. “I trust Earl’s judgment, Leo. He said Percival was bad news. I believe him.”

“Then I will too,” he said.

Via almost melted with relief.

Leo sat back. “Percival’s offers were such lowballs I wouldn’t entertain them anyway.”

Thank God the man was cheap. She glanced down to see her fingers digging into Sir’s fur. He didn’t mind it—he was a toughcat. Had to be, considering the situation she’d adopted him from six years ago. A situation she didn’t want to think about ever again. She released her grip and he leaped onto the empty chair again, as if he knew she was okay.

“And you don’t have to do anything, Via,” Leo said, getting her attention again. He frowned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“If you hadn’t, I couldn’t have warned you about Percival.” And run the risk of having that man be in her sphere. She inwardly shuddered, then managed to relax a tiny bit. If Leo was to be believed, he was taking his inheritance seriously. He also seemed to take her warning against Percival sincerely too.

Leo pushed back from the table. “Restroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left.”

“Be right back,” he said, and headed that way.

Sir started to jump off the chair, but Via intercepted him. “Give the man some privacy.” She stroked his fur, her gaze absently going to the bulletin board on the other side of the dining area. It was filled with information about the café, upcoming events, and...

Via’s eyes widened as she spotted a yellow sheet of paper pinned in the center with cat-ear thumbtacks. Still hanging on to Sir, she dashed to the bulletin board and took down the paper, scanning the list. Her excitement grew. She hurried back to the table and sat, keeping Sir in her lap as she waited for Leo to return.

“This could work, Sir,” she said, rubbing his back again. “It could totally work.”

When Leo returned to the table, Via was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. A complete mood switch from her panic over Percival. He knew not to mention him again, although he doubtedhe would need to. Percival’s second offer was barely above the first, and Leo made it clear he wasn’t going to deal with someone who was trying to pull a fast one.

As soon as he sat down, Via put Sir back on his chair and pushed a paper toward Leo. Her excitement was palpable. “What’s this?” he asked.

“My way of helping both of us.”

He took it from her and read the title: “Via’s Autumn Bucket List.” Then he glanced over it. The list wasn’t just words. It was organized with autumn-themed graphics decorating the corners and printed on pale yellow paper. “Nice presentation,” he said, confused.

“Thank you. I wanted to jazz it up a little.”

“I wasn’t aware you needed any help, though.”

“Consider this petting two birds with one hand,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“My interpretation is better.” She snuck another bite of steak to Sir, who, with the exception of jumping into her lap when she was upset about Percival, was being well behaved. It was extraordinary that he knew right away how she was feeling, and how his presence had calmed her. “Three years ago I came up with this bucket list. It’s all the activities I like to do in the fall, and I do them without fail. Last year I pinned it up at the café and encouraged others to make their own lists. It’s becoming a tradition.”

“That’s great, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

She tapped on the paper. “Read the list.”

A strange request, but it wasn’t the strangest one he’d encountered since arriving in Pecan Corner. He started to read: