Missy purred, a low vibrating rumble that undercut the quarreling humans.

"Maybe they're lost," the woman snapped. "That wouldn't surprise me, what with the way you give directions." Dark cinnamon hair spilled over her shoulders as she turned away from her post by the window. She inhaled sharply, the scent of rosemary and jasmine from her designer shampoo overlaying the older musky scent of cat.

"Lucy," he drawled, drawing the name out. "Dear. They're just running late. They know the way." One hand absently stroked the dark cat curled in his lap, smoothing fur and nerves. Under his breath, he added, "They've been here before, after all." The purr increased, slitted eyes almost closed.

She paced, her patent leather heels rapping staccato against the marble tiles. "I should call them. Find out what's taking them so long." Step, step, turn. "James, are you sure it was for today?"

"You worry too much. They'll be here," he reassured her.

With a slow, sonorous grumble, the grandfather clock announced the half-hour undeterred by Lucy's glaring at it with enough force to reduce the mahogany wood to splinters. The sound of bells continued unabated and her gaze slid, defeated, to the window. Overgrown hedges failed to hide the empty street from her accusing stare.

"You're not having second thoughts about my moving in here, are you?" she asked. "Because if you've canceled the movers, now would be a good time to mention it."

"And an hour ago would've been even better," James pointed out. "No, dear, I didn't cancel them." He tilted his head to study her, blonde hair falling forward over the rim of his glasses. The purr faded as Missy raised her head at the disturbance. Amber eyes regarded the situation with distaste and a pink tongue darted out to cleanse her fur from James' touch.

"Then where are they?" she demanded. She stared through the glass pane, ignoring the reflections and willed the movers to appear. A van turned onto their street and her eyes narrowed. "I think that's them."

"Mm," James murmured noncommittally, his enthusiasm dampened by three previous false alarms. He ran his hand through fur, earning an affronted look from Missy.

The van slowed as it neared and Lucy imagined the driver to be checking address numbers. A turning signal flickered on as it pulled into their driveway. "It is them," she breathed. Lucy pivoted on a heel to face him, triumph transmuting to exasperation at the scene before her. "James, leave the cat alone," she scolded. "They'll need help with the door."

Chaos descended on the house for the next few hours, constrained only by Lucy's strident tones. She flitted from room to room, always ready with a word of advice or a helpful suggestion. James lent a hand unloading the van, then retreated upstairs with a pile of PC Weekly magazines. Missy found her way to the top of the refrigerator, hissing at anyone who tried to remove her. The movers suffered politely while they worked, wished her better luck than the last one, and fled.

Dinner was simple, a low calorie recipe of chicken and rice, with veggies on the side. The conversation flowed from their upcoming engagement party, to would James stop slipping food to the cat, to her chances at getting the promotion at work. Afterwards, with Missy's dubious help, they cleaned up and retired for the night.

The movement of the bed jarred Lucy awake. "James?" She blinked, attempting to identify unfamiliar shapes in the darkness. Bed springs creaked as weight shifted and shining gold eyes appeared, hovering in the air. "James."

His reply came out muffled by the down comforter.

A hand made ghostly pale by the shadowy light reached out and shook him.

"James!"

"Dear?" he slurred.

"Your cat. She's on the bed."

"Oh." He paused, sleep-scattered thoughts slowing his response time. "She usually sleeps with me."

"Well, she's not anymore." Lucy turned her attention to the wraith creeping up the mattress. "Scat." Her arm connected with something solid and Missy scrambled off the bed. Lucy drifted back to sleep.

Light trickled through the venetian blinds, stealing across the carpet and spilling onto the upturned covers and James' sprawled body.

"Have you seen my slippers?"

James rolled over, glancing at the glowing red numbers of his clock. His alarm wasn't set to go off for another ten minutes. He reached over and switched it off. "What?"

"My slippers." Lucy emerged from the bathroom, already dressed in a navy pants suit, and crossed to the bed. "They should've been next to the bed." Perched on the edge, she brushed her hair back to insert an earring. Gold loops clinked lightly against each other as she let it fall.

Blurry blue eyes tracked her movements. "You're not planning on wearing slippers with that, are you? I don't think they go."

Lucy appeared offended at the idea. "Of course not." She stood. "I'm just trying to keep everything tidy. We have the party this Saturday, remember?"

"The celebration of our engagement. How could I forget?" Stretching, James grinned up at her, coaxing a smile from her in return. "It'll be perfect," he assured her. "You are perfect."

The door nosed open and a pair of bright eyes considered them for a moment. Missy slipped in, paws sinking noiselessly into the plush beige carpet. Twining around Lucy's feet, she leaped onto the bed.

Lucy frowned. "We'll have to do something about your cat. I don't want her annoying the guests."

"Missy?" James ruffled her fur. "She's a sweetheart."

"My mother is allergic to her."

"Your mother is allergic to everything."

"James, it's for one day. She can survive not having run of the house for one day." Lucy overrode his next protest. Leaning down, she briefly pressed her lips against his forehead. "End of discussion." One last reflexive check in the mirror, and she left the room.

James trudged down the staircase, stepping over Missy along the way. "I've found your slippers," he called out. "They're at the bottom of the stairs."

"I know. I must have forgotten to bring them up last night." Lucy nudged the refrigerator door shut with her elbow, her hands full of margarine and raspberry jelly. "I put coffee up for you."

"What would I do without caffeine?" Draping his suit jacket over a chair, he sat to pull his shoes on. "I'll go get the paper, dear." He headed for the front door. "No, Missy, you can't come with me. Go play with Lucy." The door closed quickly behind him despite a plaintive meow.

"Get away from the door, Missy," Lucy ordered. "James said you're not allowed outside. Although personally I don't see the loss if you're hit by a car. I never could understand the point of owning a cat. Dogs now... Dogs have a purpose. You can teach them to guard things, protect the house. You, you just lie around like..." Her words halted for a moment as she tried to think of an appropriate metaphor. "Like a hairball. That's all you are. One large furry hairball. Shedding fur on all my clothes. And you can stop staring at me, I'm not impressed."

The toaster beeped and bread popped up, interrupting Lucy. Getting breakfast preempted lecturing a cat. She placed the jars next to her plate and moved away to fetch a knife. Turning back, she found Missy sitting beside her toast, casually licking a paw.

"Off the counter."

Finishing her paw, Missy started on her shoulder, her head twisting around like a hybrid owl.

"Off." Lucy nudged the cat, who arched into her hand. "No, I'm not petting you. Get off the counter." She pushed harder against the cat who refused to budge. Sweeping an arm under Missy's legs, Lucy attempted to knock the cat off.

Missy scrambled to regain her footing. Finding a temporary purchase against the plate, she pushed with her back paws, propelling herself to safety. The plate crashed to the floor, shattering.

"Missy!" Taking a deep breath, several deep breaths, Lucy gathered the large shards and dropped them in the trash. A wet paper towel collected the rest.
Missy watched from on top of the fridge, amber eyes opened wide in curiosity. She was still there when James returned with the paper, only climbing down when offered leftover milk from his cereal.

That night Lucy carefully shut the bedroom door before slipping into bed. Snuggled against James, she slept through the night without once being awakened by Missy. In the morning she woke refreshed, relaxed, and ready for her meeting.

"Would you believe that they managed to throw the paper into the one puddle?" James announced, shaking off raindrops. Drawn by his voice, Missy peeked around the couch.

Lucy glanced up from the TV guide crossword. "Since it's dripping on the carpet, I'd have to say yes."

He continued to grumble as he tossed it onto the counter top. "That takes real talent." Water beads slid down in a hurry to reach the formica.

"It's covered in plastic wrap, James. There's no harm done."

"Real talent." Folding into a chair, he sniffed the air. "I don't suppose the coffee's ready?"

"I put two cups in the microwave. They should be done soon." The pencil tapped against white teeth as she counted boxes. "Six letters..."

Peeling away the cover, James examined the paper for any soaked spots. "The edges are damp."

"I can call and complain," Lucy offered, raising a tweaked eyebrow.

"It's not that important."

Three high pitched beeps signaled the drinks were ready. "I'll get it. I know you're heartbroken over the paper." Her pantyhose whispered against the ceramic floor tiles as she walked. Two teaspoons of sugar went in her college mug before she took a cautious sip of the Mocha blend. Using the teaspoon, she stirred it for another moment then headed back to the table, gripping both handles tightly.

Halfway there, she felt the brush of air as something wound between her feet. She stumbled, the mugs tilting in her hand as she tried not to fall. Hot water scalded her, the liquid spreading down her arm. "Missy!" She set the mugs down on the table with a thunk, more coffee sloshing over and soaking into the floral place mats.

Newspaper dangling forgotten from his hand, James stared at her in concern. "Dear, are you all right?"

"Your damned cat," Lucy growled, inspecting her hand. She noticed her sleeve was now warm, wet, and a light brown.

"Let me see your hand." James reached for her, turning the hand over before raising it to his lips for a kiss. "Not even burned."

Lucy jerked her hand away. "That cat of yours is always underfoot."

"Always under your feet," James defended. "I've never had a problem with her. You're just not used to living with a pet."

"She has to get used to living with me, James," corrected Lucy. "I'm going upstairs to change now. I can not afford to be late to this meeting. Offending these clients could cost me the promotion. I am not going to lose because of a cat." Smelling of exotic coffee and Estee Lauder perfume, she stalked upstairs.

James surveyed the cooling puddles and aloof cat and sighed. "I suppose it could've been worse," he muttered, picking up his mug. He contemplated Missy, who contrived to look both innocent and betrayed by the implied accusation. "She didn't mean to snap. This meeting is very important to her. I like her a lot, Missy. I want it to work this time."

She came home late that night, slamming shut the door and throwing her briefcase at the couch. "Do you, by any chance," she snarled, "have a cat toy that looks like a mouse?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "The same size, the same shape and color, covered in fur?"

"Yes. What-"

Lucy cut him off. "Your cat left it in my purse. I went to take out a pen, and instead pulled out a mouse."

"It wasn't real."

"I didn't know that! They didn't know that!"

James realized that smiling was a mistake when Lucy glowered at him.

"The secretary fainted when I threw it at her."

"Oh." He closed his eyes, picturing the scene and repressing laughter. "But your meeting went well?"

"This was during the meeting."

"Oh," he repeated, this time with sincere sympathy.

"Indeed. Something needs to be done about that cat." She sank into the couch, kicking off her heels.

James frowned. "It wasn't deliberate. There's nothing you can do."

"I can teach her not to go near my stuff," contradicted Lucy. "I bought a water pistol during my lunch break."

"A water pistol?" James moved behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders. "She's just a cat, Lucy. This isn't a war."

Lucy bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. "I'm just going to teach her manners. If she's as intelligent as you believe, she can learn. The party is in two days, and I won't have her ruining it. Locking her in the bathroom may not be enough."

"You can't lock her in the bathroom."

"Why not?" Icy emerald eyes flashed at him, framed by pale eye shadow and mascara. "Her litterbox is in there, and we can move the food bowl. It even has a window so she'll get fresh air."

"I just don't think that's a good idea."

"And I don't think letting her run around loose is. We've had this discussion, James."

"Dear..."

"It's settled."

The patter of paws made her turn her head in time to see Missy leap onto the couch. Head high, Missy stepped carefully along the top cushions.
Lucy retrieved her briefcase, snapped it open and removed the cat toy. "I believe this is yours," she informed the cat, holding it out.

Missy leaned forward and sniffed at it before turning away, uninterested.

"Look at it," Lucy demanded.

Tail curled elegantly around her paws, Missy continued to stare at the beige carpet, not even flicking an ear at the harsh tone.

Shoving the toy under her nose, Lucy repeated it, her voice rising. "Look at it!"

James gently pried the mouse from her hand. "That won't work, dear. Why don't you go change, we'll order in Chinese, and tomorrow this will seem funny."

"I doubt it." Lucy rose with his guidance, swayed, then found her balance. At the top of the stairs she paused to give a last parting glare.

The buzz of the alarm clock failed to stop. Lucy hit it again without result. It took her a moment to register the alarm hadn't gone off. "What's the ringing sound?"

"Hmmm?"

"There's this loud ringing sound," Lucy insisted. "Don't you hear it?"

"It's too early," mumbled James.

"James, I can hear a voice." She drew back the covers, sitting upright.

"No, not the light," James begged. "Don't turn the light on." He groaned as she flicked the switch, closing his eyes and turning his head away.

"It's the phone. It must've gotten knocked off the hook."

"Mystery solved. Turn the light off. Please."

"I'm awake now."

Head buried under his pillow, James heard the words garbled. "What?"

"Go back to sleep, James. I'll just make breakfast, straighten up."

"Okay."

"Get an early start to the day."

He felt the bed bounce as she stood. "Will you turn the light off?"

"My slippers are gone."

"Slippers?" echoed James.

"Yes. I know I brought them up. Do you see them?"

"I'm sleeping." James hid his smile in the bedsheets tangled around him.

Lucy snorted, footsteps moving away. "Maybe they're in the bathroom... Missy!"

A loud thump, and the sharp smell of ozone reached James as the room went black. "It's dark again." Raising his head, James peered curiously around. "Lucy? Dear? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Your damned cat tripped me, and I hit the lamp. The bulb shorted out, but I think it's fine. And your cat's fine. Although, I swear to god she tripped me deliberately."

"You're imagining things. What time is it anyway?"

"The clock's right next to you," Lucy snapped.

"Four thirty." He sighed. "I might as well get up. I certainly don't seem to be getting more sleep."

*to be continued