Not a Chance in Helen Read Online Free Page A

visitor? What is this place, Grand Central Station? Even Calvin Coolidge managed to find a few hours to nap every day, and he was president, for crying out loud!”
    “They’re all gone, Miss Nora.” The tiny eyes behind the lenses blinked. “It’s time for Lady Godiva’s supper.”
    Eleanora glanced at her wristwatch. “You’re right, it is.”
    Zelma started across the room toward the cat, but Lady hopped off the chair before Zelma got near enough to grab her. With a swish of tail, she darted under the desk, hiding by Eleanora’s feet.
    “I’ll take care of her,” Eleanora offered. “Oh, and Zelma, fix me up a plate of something as well. I haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast. What with nearly being killed and all, I completely forgot about lunch.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    As soon as the housekeeper was out of sight, Lady Godiva bounded into Eleanora’s lap. “C’mon, precious,” she cooed, rising to her feet with the cat in her arms. “Soup’s on.”

 
    Chapter Three
    H ELEN SE T DOWN the saucer heaped with the contents of a can of Liver ‘n’ Chicken. Her oversized yellow tom took a single sniff before shaking his tail at her and glancing up with pleading eyes, as if to say, Isn’t there something better than this?
    “No,” she told him, trying hard to be firm. “You’re getting too finicky in your old age, Amber. This was your favorite last week, remember?”
    But apparently he’d forgotten.
    He mewed at her in a sharp tone not unlike a child back-talking. Then he padded out of the kitchen, tail straight in the air as if to let her know he wasn’t happy in the least with her decision.
    Good grief, she thought, shaking her head as she watched him go. No wonder there were plenty of folks who preferred dogs to felines. A pup ate whatever he was given and seemed glad for it, slobbering happily when he was done. Cats balked when you accidently fed them the same kind of canned food twice in a row. It was the fault of the Egyptians, she decided, wiping off her hands on her sweatpants. She couldn’t blame the furry creatures for expecting a lot. She would, too, if she’d once been worshipped as a god by the likes of Cleopatra.
    She smiled, figuring Amber was spoiled almost as much as that. And to think she’d very nearly missed out on having a cat altogether.
    In all the years she and Joe had been married—all the while their kids had been growing up—he’d been dead set against having an animal of any sort. “They’re dirty,” he’d said, “they shed like mad, and they stink.”
    Helen shook her head even now at the memory.
    When their children had moved away and started raising families of their own, Joe had broken down and agreed—though not without grumbling—to let her adopt a stray that their granddaughter, Nancy, had found one summer years ago. She’d named the cat Amber because of the color of his eyes. No dummy he, Amber had instantly attached himself to Joe, crawling into his lap whenever it was empty, rubbing against his calves, sleeping near his feet atop the bedspread. Pretty soon it was Joe who’d woken up to feed Amber in the mornings, who’d cleaned up the bunny guts Amber had left on the porch. So when Joe had died three years ago, Helen knew she wasn’t the only one who’d mourned his absence. Amber hadn’t been himself for months after.
    Helen sighed and pushed up her sleeves. She turned on the tap at the sink, the pipes squealing as the water gushed out. She stuck her hands beneath, soaping them up to erase the smell of Liver ‘n’ Chicken. She glanced down at the rejected saucer of cat food and clicked tongue against teeth, thinking some humans probably didn’t eat so well as her spoiled tomcat. Though Helen was hardly undernourished herself, she realized she hadn’t had a bite since breakfast, save for the cheese ball she’d snatched at Jean’s earlier in the day, so just about anything sounded good to her at the moment.
    She averted her eyes from