Page 42 of Autumn at the Cat Cafe

“Octavia Bernice it is.” At an insistent meow, he glanced at the floor. “Just a sec, Cinnamon.” He looked at Via again. “Seriously, you okay? You’ve been acting off lately.”

She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, ignoring his question. She was totally off, and if she didn’t do something about it, more people than her family would notice.

Two more meows. Fergus set down his coffee cup and picked up Cinnamon, who immediately started purring and leaned her head against his broad chest. It was so adorable and would make the perfect social media post, except Fergus hated everything about social media and refused to have his image online, except for a small headshot on his construction business website. “I think she’s missing a buddy,” he said. “Sir didn’t want to come downstairs today?”

“He’s with Leo.”

“Earl’s nephew? I thought he was allergic to cats.”

Via frowned. “How did you know that?”

“A not-so-little Birdie told me.”

Naturally. “He’s on a steady course of Benadryl.” She turned around to clean up around the coffee machines.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Fergus continued, “but I actually miss your incessant chatter.”

“Gee, thanks.” She looked at him, expecting his usual teasing expression. He surprised her by being serious.

“Maybe you need some time off. You didn’t take much after Earl passed.”

He was right—she only took off for the short memorial their church had held for him and had helped with the dinner afterward. Then it was back to work. That was what she needed to do,not be at loose ends mourning him. But it was nice to know that Fergus cared. “I’m a little tired, that’s all. I was working in Second Chapter last night moving around boxes of books.”

“By yourself?”

“With Leo.” She brushed some stray coffee beans on the counter into a tiny pile.

“Hmm.”

That got her attention. “What?”

“Nothing.” He scratched behind Cinnamon’s ears.

“That ‘hmm’ didn’t sound like nothing.”

Fergus’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He shifted Cinnamon to his other arm and dug the cell out. Swiping the screen with his thumb, he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”

Via leaned forward a bit. She could hear their father talking but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Yeah, I can do it.” He rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t mind. You’re welcome.” He shut off the phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Via asked.

He set down Cinnamon. “Dad asked me to do a job for him.”

“Oh. I thought something was actually wrong.”

He scowled. “Have I mentioned how much I hate plumbing?”

“Only a million times.” Via didn’t know if her father had ever harbored any hope of his only son going into the family business, but ever since she could remember, Fergus disliked plumbing, despite learning it at Dad’s knee and going on jobs with him. “It’s nice that you help him out from time to time,” she said.

“I’m glad to help him in a jam. It’s the actual plumbing I can’t stand.” He pulled out his wallet.

“I was joking about restitution,” Via said. “You know your coffee is always on the house.”

He laid down a hundred-dollar bill. “My bid for Dora’s painting. Didn’t want to forget.” He shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “At least the job isn’t far away.”

Via took the money and opened the cash register. She put it under the drawer as a reminder to set it aside in the office for the Harvest Fest auction. “Oh? Where is it?”