“Trying to steal company secrets, are you?” Konstantine said, reaching for one of Kitty’s boxes.
“No,” she said, lifting the lid and tipping it toward him so he could see the contents. “Only a few personal items. The files you can have. I won’t need them where I’m going.”
“Just where do you think you’re goin’?”Konstantine snapped.
“We’re starting a new agency,” Bart said, “Kitty, Mel, and I.”
“The hell you are! What agency?”
“The Bear-Cat Agency, we’re callin’ it,” Bart said, winking at Kitty and Mel. “Don’t worry, Konstantine. It’s not likely we’ll ever be goin’ after the same clients—other than The Four Saints, of course. They’ll be signing with us.”
Bart walked past Konstantine and took up Kitty’s two boxes as though they contained nothing but tissue paper and bubble wrap.
“Shall we go, ladies?”
“You haven’t heard the end of this!” Konstantine snapped.
Kitty stopped long enough to look at her father, long and hard.
“I’ve never been able to please you, Dad,” she said, her voice sad. “God knows I’ve tried, but I could never be the son you wanted at your side. I’m sorry for that; sorry I could never please you; sorrier than I can ever express that I wasn’t Rand.”
“Don’t you talk to me about ‘sorry.’” he growled.
Kitty closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. When she opened them, her father was still glaring at her. She sighed and turned to follow Bart without another word.
She found Tina Carpenter standing behind her desk, an expression of shock and awe on her face showing clearly that she had heard every word. Kitty stopped and smiled at her former assistant. When Tina glanced fearfully toward the office door, Kitty reached out to lay a hand on the younger woman’s arm.
“We couldn’t pay you what you’re making here right away, but if you’re interested…”
Tina’s dark eyes got big. “Oh, yes, ma’am.”
Mel pulled a sheet off Tina’s note pad and jotted down an address and phone number. “Here, Tina,” she whispered. “Call me when you’re ready to jump ship.”
“I’m ready, now, Ms. Saint.”
Kitty smiled. “You should finish the month if you can, before you give your notice, so you can get another full paycheck. Then call us. We should be ready for you by then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Kitty, Mel, and Bart headed out of the building. As they signed out at security, Kitty could tell by the shocked expressions that the news of her leaving had made it to the door before her. In another five minutes, she was loaded into Bart’s SUV, and they were following Mel out of the parking lot. She sighed but didn’t look back.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” Bart said.
“So am I,” Kitty said. “I wish it could have been different between us, but Dad never forgave me for outliving Rand.”
“His loss,” Bart said, reaching for her hand.
“Yes. Mine, too.”
She returned the squeeze of his hand, grateful for his support.
“Now what?” she asked as they waited for a traffic light.
“Family meetin’ tonight,” he said. “You and Mel have some explainin’ to do.”
Kitty laughed. “Yes, I guess we do.”
50
It was actually a lot easier than Kitty had thought it would be, meeting with the entire family. They were gathered around Mark and Abby’s dining room table, and Mark was generous as he poured wine for the ladies.
“Bear-Cat, huh?” Matt said then took a swig from his bottle of beer.
“I like it,” John said.
“Me, too,” Meg said. “It’s all of you and Addy and Kitty, all rolled into one.”
“Well, it just popped into my head when old man Konstantine asked, but if we come up with somethin’ better, that’d be okay.”
There were protests around the table, and so it was settled.
“To The Bear-Cat Agency,” Mark said, raising his bottle high.
Everyone lifted their bottle or glass.
“How are you doing, Kitty?” Meg asked.
Kitty took a deep breath. “All right, I guess, though I’ve never been unemployed and homeless before.”
Luke snorted. “You’re hardly that. What you and Mel cooked up is a great idea, and I’m bettin’ we can make it work in no time.”
“Getting clients won’t be easy,” Kitty said.
“You already have two,” Meg said. “The Four Saints and me.”
“Really?” Kitty said. “Are you serious about touring again, Meg?”
Meg shook her head. “Not touring—never that, again. It would take me too far from home for too long. But there are local gigs I could get, with your help—and by local, I mean Tennessee and surrounding states. I don’t want to go too far. This is my home, and I like it here. But surely there are universities and music schools who wouldn’t mind paying me something to perform and lead workshops.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Mel said.
“I could be your third client,” Addy said.