The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales (Cainsville 3.5)

Now, as they talked, Ricky pulled the phone away and said, "Dad's wondering if you can send him some photos. He wants to see them, maybe pass on a few to my mom."

"Sure."

He scooted his chair over as I flipped through photos on my phone. There were some pure scenery shots, but most were of one of us in front of that scenery. Otherwise, five years from now, I'd be going through them, saying, "Forest, ocean, mountain, more ocean, more . . ." Put Ricky in the shot, and it would trigger a memory instead--"Oh, yes, that was the amazing stretch of winding road where we saw a whale breach out in the water."

As I went through the photos, Ricky said, "That one and that one," and each of those photos sparked a memory, every one making me smile. I was on yesterday's batch when he said, "Oh, definitely that one."

It was a good shot. The two of us in the mouth of a cave, the ocean behind us, white-crested waves crashing. It was a rare selfie--well, a dual selfie, neither of us being much into taking pics of ourselves. I'd been holding the phone up, and he was grinning at the camera, his hair flying back in the wind, hazel eyes bright, arm around my shoulders. At the last second, I'd planted a kiss on his cheek and snapped it as my lips made contact.

"Send it to me, too," he said. "New background for my phone."

I e-mailed it, and as he talked to his dad, I glanced at the photo again. I looked so happy. We both did. Ecstatically and unabashedly happy. Just one such moment in a week filled with them. Giddy and carefree and in love. To think that only a couple of weeks ago I'd considered ending it, just to open the door for--

My phone rang. The second I heard the ringtone, my fingers flew to the Ignore button, guilt stabbing through me, as if I'd somehow conjured up this call just thinking of him.

Ricky covered his phone and said, "You should t

ake that."

"It's just--"

"It's Gabriel. I know. And I also noticed you have two unanswered calls from him this afternoon. He's trying to get in touch with you."

Then he can text me.

That wasn't fair, of course. Gabriel was my boss. Even on vacation, ignoring his calls was irresponsible.

Ricky motioned that he'd move his call elsewhere, but I told him to stay and took mine down the steps, off the deck. I phoned Gabriel back.

"Hey," I said when he answered. "What's up?"

His deep voice resonated down the line. "You were working on the Fisher case before you left, correct?"

"I was."

"I need to check something in the file."

"Okay, well, it's in that place that the files go. The filing cabinet."

"I didn't see it," he said, but I heard the sound of his footsteps and then the click of the filing cabinet drawer, the whoosh of it opening. "Oh, yes. It's here."

"It's also scanned and entered in the handy new digital repository, which someone needs to start using, considering he's the one who suggested I set it up."

My tone was light, just giving him a hard time, same old Olivia. Maybe I overdid it. Or he just wasn't in the mood. Either way, he didn't respond, and I listened to him flipping through the pages.

"Any questions?" I asked.

"No."

"All right, then. Well, you have the file, so I'll let you--"

"How is the trip?"

I could wax on about the scenery. Tell some quirky little story about fellow travelers. Even relay an interesting tidbit of local history. All of which he'd listen to with an impatience that would fairly strum over the phone line.

"Good," I said simply.

A pause, as if he might actually be hoping for more. I cleared my throat. "Yesterday we saw a--"