Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window and the glass panel of the door, brightening the room. The yellow walls glowed and made me happy. I stared into the garden and noticed how the mints had spread. The three and a half years since Lars and I had married, sold our houses and purchased this four bedroom ranch as our home had been happy but because of the COVID epidemic, quiet.
“Meow.” Robespierre emerged from the cat door and padded to his food dish. He stared and called again.
I grabbed a box of dried food from the huge pantry closet and shook a minor shower of granules into the bowl. The brown and black long-haired Maine Coon cat attacked the offering. A few bites later he settled on the floor and stared Sphinxlike at me.
I glanced at the kitchen clock above the small antique table and chairs. Time to pack my contribution to the neighborhood Labor Day gathering. From the pantry, I removed the largest cake holder. After opening the lid, I took the three tiered chocolate cake from the chest freezer and fitted the pastry into the holder. One down. I reached for my glass of iced mint tea and sipped.
When I thought of how Sarah’s boys would crow with delight over the cake, I chuckled. Even though the pair had recently become teens, they remained suckers for the cake. I hoped Lars would soon return from his golf game with his son. I wanted to reach Sarah’s yard in time to help set up the food.
Today we celebrated the end of selfquarantining for COVID. The past three years had meant that in person gatherings were only with immediate family. During the early hectic days, over Lars’ protests, I’d returned to the hospital to help with the influx of patients. The families in my neighborhood had been fortunate. Though many of my friends had developed the disease, no one had become seriously ill.
As I opened the refrigerator, Robespierre stirred. He prowled to my side and stared at the jars I removed. Pickled shrimp, one of my special appetizers and one my allergy to the shrimp protein kept me from tasting.
“Merrup.”
I looked down at Robespierre. “You wouldn’t like them.” The huge cat’s expression marked my words as lies. I scratched his head. “I should give you a taste but I’m not cruel.” Who knew what effect vinegar and herbs would have on the cat. After finding a small cooler, I poured ice into the bottom and fitted a plastic bag inside. I decanted the jars of shrimp into the cooler, closed the bag and added it to the sides and top.
I had just closed the cooler when Lars entered the kitchen. He brushed a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll shower and change. Then we can leave.” He strode away.
Robespierre stretched in that feline way of denying he had a rigid spine. The cat wound circles around my legs before exiting the kitchen via the cat door. I stood at the kitchen door and watched his antics. First he chased a butterfly and leaped onto the wall. There he chose a sunny spot. After adding tea to my glass, I sat at the kitchen table to wait for Lars.
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