Cat of the Century by Rita Mae Brown Page B

stand her. Didn’t even want to be in the same room with her. If she was up to no good, she certainly wasn’t going to tell me.”
    “Apart from your college clashes, did she do something recently that offended you?”
    “
She
offends me. Her very person. I’ve felt that way since I first met her. Haven’t you ever met someone and disliked them instantly?”
    “Once. I avoided him.”
    “Well, I couldn’t very well avoid Mariah. I swear, she spent more time at William Woods now than when she was a student, just to torment me. God knows, she never missed a chance to drive in from Kansas City. And her being on the alumnae board means I have to deal with her a lot. She’s just so … pushy.” She’d searched for that word.
    “She is. But it’s in the service of the school.”
    “Oh, bollocks. The alumnae board is a way for her to get attention. She’s raised a lot of money already. She craves attention. Always has.”
    “I suppose she does,” Gayle reluctantly agreed. “It would appear that Liz Filmore suffers from attention-deficit syndrome, too.” She grinned mischievously. “Neither woman gets enough.”
    “Give credit where credit is due.” Flo wrinkled her nose. “Mariah does raise money, and she wants attention for that. Liz wants attention for herself.”
    “Looks like it,” Gayle agreed again.
    “Mariah would not miss a meeting. Hell, she’d go just to irritate me.” Flo crossed one foot over the other. “She’s done something terrible. She’s on the lam. I guarantee it.”
    “Flo,” Gayle took a deep breath, “what an awful thought.”
    Flo thought for a moment, pulled the blanket more tightly around her. “Mariah inspires awful thoughts.”
    Neither Flo nor Gayle knew of the twenty-five thousand dollars that had been drawn from the Kansas City account. Although it had been repaid, both women would have been outraged.
    Gayle shifted on her chair. “It will all come out in the wash.” She paused. “Certainly was a lovely dinner. Can you imagine reaching one hundred?”
    “You know, I never thought about it.” A deep sigh followed. “The only way, really, would be to marry a plastic surgeon. Maybe then you’d look seventy.”
    “Maybe then your navel would be between your eyes.” Gayle giggled.
    “The third eye of prophecy,” Flo shot back, and they laughed uproariously.

A s a precaution, four of the maintenance workers bunked up at the university. Like the alumnae, people who worked at William Woods eventually fell under its spell. Hardworking, straightforward Missouri men, not one of them could bear the thought of “their kids” shivering in their rooms or not being able to get hot food.
    While Aunt Tally had celebrated, the four men divided up the campus, each protecting his quadrant. Every residence hall was hooked up to a series of generators, and the maintenance men showed the CA, often a graduate student, how to cut off the circuit breakers, then turn on the generator. A few of the students, not country folk, knew how to check a circuit breaker but didn’t understand why they needed to cut the power when it was out. Patiently, they were informed that if the power came back on and the generator was running, they’d blow out everything.
    The final carrying out of manure to the big snow-covered pile was done. The horses would be in superclean stalls in case they couldn’t be thoroughly mucked out tomorrow. The students had put down extra bedding. Water usually didn’t freeze inside the barns, but they knew that would happen tonight. Generators were hooked up in the barn so the pumps would still work. The frozen buckets could be dumped, then refilled with fresh water in the morning. Horses drank as muchas sixteen gallons of water on a hot day; on a cold one, they still needed a lot of water.
    When Fuji Wertland knocked on the door of the alumni house, Harry and Tucker greeted him. The power had gone out an hour ago. The ladies sat around the propane heater.
    “Come