Free LLOYD, PAUL R. by Hags Page A

it.
    Micah winced as Fritz ran across
his lap with claws out. “How’d Fritz get in here?”
    “Are you in pain, Micah?”
    “Some, but I’m getting better. Pain
isn’t the issue. According to the census, one person has been living in your
house since nineteen-oh-nine, a woman named Denise Appleby. No family. No
children. Would you mind explaining?”
    “It’s a family joke. We do it every
census. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to.”
    “Meowr.” Fritz stretched his paws
towards Micah’s pants.
    “Scat, cat.” Micah pushed Fritz
away before he could shred his pants. “Where are your parents?”
    “My father’s dead. Mom’s in Florida
with Grandmom.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “How long?” Micah asked.
    “Not that long!” Denise slammed her
sandwich down on her lap.
    “Who was the Denise Appleby who
purchased your house in nineteen-oh-nine?”
    “Denise Appleby.”
    “Is she the same lady who completed
the nineteen-fifty census?” Micah asked.
    “Not sure. She may have been. She
was my great grandmother. She lived to the late fifties or early sixties. It
was before my time.”
    Micah rubbed his sore side. “Who is
the Denise Appleby who was interviewed for the nineteen-seventy census?”
    “Probably my grandmother. My mother
would have been a young girl at the time, but I’m not sure.” Denise took a bite
of sandwich.
    “And the nineteen-eighty census?”
    “My grandmother? They’re both still
alive so I guess it could have been either one of them.”
    “Don’t the women in your family
change their last name when they get married?” Micah asked.
    Denise dropped her sandwich and folded
her arms across her chest. She glowered at Micah. “I suppose they would if they
ever married.”
    “Meowr.”
    “Go away, Fritz.” Micah stood up
and placed the cat on a chair.
    Denise grabbed Fritz from the chair
and cuddled him. “You don’t like Fritz, do you?”
    “He scratched my lap.”
    “Poor baby.” Denise kissed Fritz on
the top of the head.
    “Is never getting married like your
little family secret?” Micah took a bite of sandwich.
    “It would have been a bit dicey for
my grandmother and great grandmother. Maybe even my mother. We never talked
about it. Today nobody cares, but back then it was strictly 23 skidoo.” Denise
dropped Fritz to the floor and picked up her sandwich.
    “23 skidoo?”
    “Yeah. You know, time to get out of
town. It’s an old expression.”
    “So in each generation, there never
was a father?”
    Denise pointed a finger to the
ceiling. “There was a father, of course. You have to have a father. But we
Appleby women aren’t very good at picking our gentleman. The ones we choose
don’t hang around long enough for marriage.”
    “But you said you knew your
father.”
    “I said he was dead. I knew who he
was. Oh, Micah, is this necessary? My father is my business. He came around
once in a while when I was a child for birthdays, Halloween, that sort of
thing.”
    “Halloween?”
    “Yeah, he liked to take me trick or
treating and all that jazz when I was a kid.”
    “And that’s pretty much the way the
fathers have been in your family for generations?” Micah asked.
    “Ye-es. I’m uncomfortable answering
these personal questions, especially from the town pervert.”
    “Ouch.”
    Denise threw her sandwich to the
floor. “You know what? You’ve got issues to deal with, like clearing your name
or whatever it is you came back to Naperville to do. And learning to get along
with lovable cats like Fritz. Why don’t we take a pass on this relationship
until you figure out who you are and what you want? Then we can worry about who
or what I am.”
    “You sure?” Micah asked.
    “Sounds groovy to me. You can’t be
for me and against me, Micah. Make up your mind. Resolve your other issues. In
the meantime we can be friends and neighbors, okay?”
    “If that’s what you want.”
    “It’s best for both of us.