Bookplate Special by Lorna Barrett Page A

to herself?
    She crossed the street and found Angelica had piled several black plastic trash bags outside the door to Booked for Lunch, and was already locking the door for the day.
    Tricia came to a halt at the edge of the pavement. “You needed help for four bags? Couldn’t you just make a couple of trips across the street by yourself?”
    Angelica turned hard eyes on her sister. “Don’t start with me. I’ve had a rough day. You should wait on eighty-seven customers while wearing heels and no one to do food prep.”
    “For heaven’s sake, buy some sensible shoes.”
    “I don’t have time to buy new shoes. I don’t have time to scratch my—”
    Tricia held up a hand to stave off the rest of that statement. “Never mind. I’ll grab two of these bags. You get the others.”
    “Be careful, they’re heavy,” Angelica warned.
    Tricia grabbed the first bag and nearly staggered under its weight. “What have you got in here? Lead?”
    “I told you they were heavy. It’s paper, mostly. Napkins, milk shake cups, et cetera. And food waste.”
    Tricia picked up the other bag, holding it at arm’s length, her muscles straining under the load. “Let’s hurry up. I’ve got my own end-of-day chores to do at Haven’t Got a Clue.”
    The sisters hefted their bags, waited for a minivan to pass, and staggered across the street.
    “Do we have to walk around the block to get to your Dumpster?” Tricia asked.
    “It’s too far,” Angelica said. “We’ll walk straight through the Cookery. But for heaven’s sake, don’t drop those bags. If one of them splits on my carpet—”
    The cheerful bell rang overhead as Angelica opened the Cookery’s door and led the way. “Coming through,” she told a surprised Frannie, who stood at the register with a woman customer.
    Tricia plastered on a smile as she nodded a hello to Frannie and the well-dressed tourist who clutched a Cookery shopping bag in one hand. “Hi,” she said, and shuffled after her sister.
    Angelica had just punched in the code to disarm the security system when Tricia caught up with her. She opened the door. “If my Dumpster’s full, we can put the overflow into—” Her words ended abruptly as she gazed at the top step outside the Cookery’s back exit.
    Tricia remembered the two bowls that had sat on the step earlier that day. “Let’s get this stuff into the trash before a bag splits. Remember your carpets,” she admonished.
    Angelica turned, leveled an icy glare at Tricia, and then hefted her own bags of trash before trundling down the concrete steps to the metal trash receptacle. She grunted as she slam-dunked her two bags of trash into the Dumpster, then took Tricia’s from her. Tricia refrained from speaking and followed her sister back up the steps to the store. Angelica paused on the top step, retrieving the empty food bowl and tossing aside what was left in the water bowl.
    The store was devoid of customers as she stalked through the aisles of books, halted at the cash desk, and slammed the bowls onto the counter. “Frannie, I’ve asked you not to encourage that cat to come around, and you’ve gone and done it again.”
    Frannie managed a strangled laugh. “Done what?”
    “You’re feeding that stray cat when I’ve asked you not to.”
    “But it’s hungry. And the nights are getting colder. I wouldn’t want that poor kitty to be hungry, let alone cold.”
    “It’s wearing a fur coat,” Angelica stated.
    “It’s got bare feet,” Frannie countered.
    Angelica turned to Tricia. “Are you going to help me out here?”
    Tricia shook her head and shrugged. “I think it’s wonderful that Frannie wants to help this little cat.”
    “Well, I don’t. I don’t want a store cat like you’ve got. Can the two of you understand that?”
    “I wasn’t trying to catch her so she’d be the official Cookery mascot, although I think it would be a wonderful idea,” Frannie said. “I want to take her home—make her my