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made sure there was plenty of it.
    In less than five minutes, Hannah’s sandwich was ready. She cut it into fourths diagonally, the way her grandmother had done to make it “special,” and arranged it on a green Fiestaware luncheon plate with the tips pointing out like a star. Then she dished up Moishe’s portion on a turquoise blue plate that set off the yellow of the eggs perfectly.
    Hannah carried the two plates out to the living room. Using a Fiestaware plate for Moishe would have garnered her mother’s objections on two fronts. Delores believed that pets should have their own food bowls and never be fed from “people” dishes. She didn’t even think they should be mixed in the same load in the dishwasher. Hannah’s mother also loved antiques and family heirlooms. Letting Moishe use one of the six plates that Grandma Swensen had left Hannah would have positively horrified her.
    Once their food was placed on the coffee table in front of the couch and the television was tuned to KCOW for the local news, Hannah called her cat down from the back of the couch.
    Moishe’s ears swiveled forward at the sound of his name, but he didn’t move. Hannah fanned his plate with her hand so that he could catch the scent, but that didn’t do it either. As a last resort, she lifted the plate and held it in front of him, so he could see what was there. “What’s the matter, Moishe? Aren’t you hungry?”
    â€œRowww,” Moishe said, something that Hannah interpreted to mean she’d hit the nail on the head.
    â€œOkay,” she told him. “I’ll leave your plate right here and you can have some when you’re ready. Be careful, though. If you break that plate, Mother will kill us both.”
    The sound Moishe gave was more growl than comment. As Hannah watched, his eyes narrowed to slits, his hair puffed up to make him look larger to an opponent, and his tail switched back and forth. Mentioning her mother’s name always had this effect. Moishe hated Delores. Hannah figured it had started when they’d first met and Delores had tried to pick him up despite Hannah’s warning that he was still skittish around people. It had been a case of stubborn cat versus determined human, and stubborn cat had won. Delores had finally stopped trying to pick up Moishe, but it had taken a half-dozen pairs of shredded pantyhose to dissuade her.
    â€œSorry,” Hannah said, reaching up to smooth the hair on his back. “We won’t talk about her now.”
    Moishe gave a sigh that convinced Hannah he understood and settled back down to stare out the window. As she ate her sandwich, Hannah divided her time between watching the news and watching her neighbors’ window, but she still didn’t see anything moving in Clara and Marguerite’s apartment. Was it possible that something was wrong and Moishe could sense it?
    Hannah imagined a dire scenario. Clara hadn’t felt well this morning, so she’d sent Marguerite on to the hospital alone. And as the hours passed without her sister, Clara had become very ill, so ill that she couldn’t even get to the phone. Was she calling for help in a voice so weak only Moishe could hear it?
    Just to make sure, Hannah picked up the phone and called the hospital. Yvonne Blair, Doc Knight’s secretary, answered.
    â€œHi, Yvonne,” Hannah greeted her. “I just wondered if the Hollenbeck sisters were there today.”
    â€œThey were, but they just left. I can probably catch up with them in the parking lot if you need me to.”
    â€œNo, that’s okay,” Hannah said quickly. “It wasn’t that important. I’ll catch up with them at home.”
    â€œOkay. You’re going to the Miss Tri-County contest tonight, aren’t you?”
    â€œOf course. Michelle’s one of the contestants.”
    â€œI know. She was out here this morning with flowers for Edna Ferguson.