The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Power of Meow (The Dalai Lama's Cat 3)

“Hmm . . . ,” Tenzin mused as he returned to his own spreadsheets.

Oliver and Tenzin were looking at the completed set of census printouts that Tenzin had just checked when Tenzin’s posture suddenly shifted. He turned toward the open window near the filing cabinet, his head slightly raised. His brow furrowed and his eyes closed in concentration.

At the very same moment I caught the scent, too. Lifting my head, I flared my nostrils. There could be no doubting. It was an unmistakable aroma.

We exchanged a glance.

“Mrs. Trinci?” queried Tenzin.

Oliver glanced at the calendar on his computer. “We have Russians coming for lunch . . .”

Tenzin pushed his chair back, stood up, and headed for the door. “Her first event since she took leave after her heart attack,” he confirmed.

Hopping down from filing cabinet to desk to floor, I followed him as fast as my somewhat unsteady gait would allow me.

“How do you know she’s here?” Oliver wanted to know.

“I caught a whiff of her famous chocolate-chip cookies,” said Tenzin. “I’m going to investigate.” Then, as he stepped into the corridor, he said, “If there are any on offer, I’ll bring a couple back.”

“Minor celebration,” Oliver reminded him.

“Elevenses!” called out Tenzin, using the very English term for a midmorning snack.

Oliver chuckled.

A short while later, I followed him into the kitchen downstairs. Sure enough, Mrs. Trinci was standing in the middle of it, and, to my surprise, Serena was there chopping vegetables on a countertop.

“Mrs. Trinci!” Tenzin greeted her with an outstretched hand. Even at his most cordial, diplomatic protocol was so engrained in Tenzin that there was always a touch of formality about him.

“My dear Tenzin!” Mrs. Trinci said, ignoring his hand and kissing him on both cheeks.

“May I be the first to welcome you back! Serena has been wonderfully generous to help us in your absence. But you have been greatly missed.”

At that instant, Mrs. Trinci caught sight of the tip of my bushy, gray tail behind the counter. “Oh, my little dolce mio! Have you come to welcome me back, too?” she crooned.

I walked over and rubbed her legs, purring appreciatively.

“You see?” said Tenzin, as though my appearance confirmed what he’d just said. “You have been missed—and not only by the human residents.”

Mrs. Trinci soon lifted me onto a counter and, while stroking me effusively, reminded me why I was her tesorina, or treasure. Face-to-face like this for the first time in weeks, I could tell that something had changed. It wasn’t only that her mascara w

as less thick and that she wore only one gold bracelet instead of a whole percussion section. It was more her manner. She was just as warm and engaged as before, but there was a quietness about her. A calmness in her focus that I had never observed before.

“I’m pleased to see you here, too, Serena,” Tenzin said, welcoming her.

“Just like the old days.”

“She’s a good girl,” chimed Mrs. Trinci.

“When I offered to help,” said Serena, “I never thought she’d accept. She’s usually so stubborn.”

“I’ve changed.” Mrs. Trinci shrugged. “Why make things difficult for myself when my own daughter is one of the best chefs this side of Europe?”

“Oh, pffff!” Serena made a face.

“Quite right,” agreed Tenzin.

“I realized that I don’t need to prove myself,” Mrs. Trinci continued.