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arguments here,” Darla assured her, recalling some of the unpleasant secrets she’d been privy to of late. Then, reaching for the ice cream scoop and waggling it, she added, “This is the only kind of digging I intend to do from here on out.”

THREE
    â€œI TALKED TO DR. BIRMINGHAM YESTERDAY,” DARLA TOLD James the next afternoon when he arrived for his shift. “She recommended a guy to do that whole cat whisperer thing with Hamlet. Apparently, he’s the real deal. Of course, he costs a fortune, but he gives a decent discount to her patients.”
    She glanced again at the note she’d scribbled earlier. “I lucked out in that he has a free slot tomorrow morning. He’s supposed to be here about thirty minutes before the store opens for a preliminary consultation.”
    â€œAnd is that consultation to be with you, or with Hamlet?” James wanted to know.
    Darla watched for sarcasm in his expression but, seeing nothing other than genuine interest, admitted, “Actually, I’m not sure. I made the appointment with his assistant, and she was pretty vague about the whole thing. If Dr. B hadn’t recommended him, I’d think it was a scam. But from what she says, the man gets results.”
    â€œIndeed. Will this take place here in the store, or upstairs in your apartment?”
    â€œI’ll leave that up to the cat guy. His assistant said, and I quote, ‘Brody will feel the vibes and let you know where Hamlet’s center is,’ unquote. Though as far as I know, Hamlet’s only center is somewhere in his belly.”
    She would have added a few more observations regarding what was sounding more and more like some strange New Age, touchy-feely experiment, except that her worry over the once-cantankerous feline was growing. This morning, he’d merely pawed at his kibble and then had given what had sounded to Darla like a very human sigh before padding his way to the sofa. And it had been only in the last half hour that he’d finally made his way into the shop. He’d taken up residence on the bright green beanbag in the kids’ section, much to the consternation of the preschooler who was waiting in that area while his mother browsed the nonfiction shelves nearby.
    â€œI shall keep an open mind,” James agreed. “I have watched a few of those animal behaviorist shows on television, and they do seem to accomplish some remarkable results. Perhaps this Brody person will restore Hamlet to his usual cheerful self.”
    Darla smiled a little at this gentle sarcasm—Hamlet was many things, but never jovial—and replied, “Speaking of cheerful selves, how was your date last night? Yes, I know it wasn’t an official date,” she hurried to clarify when he gave her a stern look, “but how was it, anyhow?”
    â€œIt was . . . edifying,” was his only comment before he gave his vest a tug and turned on his heel, marching in the direction of the stairs.
    â€œWhat does edifying mean?” Robert wanted to know, sidling up beside her.
    Darla smiled. “If you want the dictionary definition, it means ‘instructive.’ If you want the King James version, I
think
it means Martha surprised him, but in a good way.”
    The youth nodded in approval. “Very awesome. Ms. Washington is a nice lady, and the Big Hoss needs someone to hang with after everything that’s happened.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, everything that’s happened?”
    Robert gave her a quizzical look. “You know, everything. His wife leaving him, his daughter being some kind of radical. All that.”
    â€œWhat? Who told you this?”
    â€œUh, he did?” Robert replied, looking suddenly chastened. “Uh, maybe it was supposed to be a secret or something?” Then, reaching under the counter for a box cutter, he added, “Guess I should get to work.”
    He scurried off toward the stack of