The cat said nothing. Grandma laughed anyway.
A Suitable Present
Leo had brought his grandmother a retirement present and, in case it was needed, an explanation.
The present was in a box inside a bag. The explanation had changed twice on the bus.
Now he stood in her sitting room, looking at the framed certificates above the cabinet. In the middle of the cabinet stood a large photograph of Grandma accepting an award. She wore a dark suit and the expression Leo remembered from the afternoon she had found him cutting his own fringe.
Beside the photograph lay a card from her former pupils. Its cover said An Inspiration to Us All.
His present contained a woman laughing with a cat on her lap.
“Shall I take your bag?” Grandma asked.
“I’ve brought you something.”
“How fortunate. I was about to take your bag anyway.”
He loosened his grip on the handles.
Not Quite Enough Room
He put the box on the dining table and lifted away the lid. Grandma folded back the tissue.
The little ceramic woman sat on a broad blue-and-white bench. A white cat leaned against her, one paw beneath her chin. Her eyes were nearly closed with laughter.
Grandma bent closer.
“Look at his face.”
“I thought you might like him.”
“He seems very pleased with himself.”
Leo began to smile.
She slid her hands beneath the base and lifted it free. The glazed bench was cool against her palms. Blue flowers curved around its legs and continued across the woman’s dress.
“There’s a place here,” Leo said, looking at the gap beside the official photograph.
He went to the cabinet. Grandma followed, holding the figure while he moved the card aside.
The gap was deep enough, but the little bench spread well beyond it. One end would have stood behind the photograph, hiding the cat’s tail and half the woman’s skirt.
Leo looked along the rest of the cabinet. A clock occupied one end; a vase of retirement flowers filled the other.
“It can go somewhere else,” he said quickly.
Grandma looked at the centre of the cabinet.
“Yes,” she said. “That can.”
Pride of Place
She carried the figure back to the dining table and set it down. Then she returned to the cabinet and lifted her official portrait.
Leo reached to help, but she had already found a place for it on the bookcase, beside a thick dictionary.
“Will you bring her over?”
He carried the ceramic bench with both hands beneath it. Grandma moved the card to one side, and he lowered the figure into the space where the photograph had stood.
From the sitting-room door, the laughing woman and her cat were the first things anyone would see.
Grandma stepped back to look.
“Turn her a little toward us.”
Leo adjusted the base. Now the cat’s raised paw sat clearly beneath the woman’s chin.
Without noticing, Grandma touched the same place on her own face.
Leo saw her do it.
“That’s why I chose it,” he said.
She looked at him, then back at the figure. A small laugh escaped her, and she left her hand beneath her chin for another moment.
When Required
They sat at the dining table while Leo folded the tissue back into the box. He no longer felt obliged to explain the flowers, the cat, or why he had walked past several respectable vases before choosing them.
“Did they make you give a speech?” he asked.
“At the retirement dinner? Of course.”
“What did you say?”
“I thanked everyone for their kindness. Then I told them I intended to be unavailable on Monday mornings.”
“For what?”
“I haven’t decided. That’s the attraction.”
Leo laughed. From his chair, he could see the little cat’s lifted nose on the cabinet behind her.
He closed the empty box.
“Would you like me to put the photograph upstairs?”
Grandma glanced toward the bookcase.
“No, keep it there,” she said. “People ought to know I could look serious when required.”
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