“I’ll feed them in the morning.”

“You already forgot, didn’t you?”

What? Was she a mind reader? “No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t make me have to call PETA,” Robin said with a laugh.

Disgusted, I rummaged in the kitchen junk drawer, found a yellow stickie, wrote Feed cats and stuck it to the refrigerator door. “There, are you happy?”

“Yeah. Now don’t forget to read the note.”

“Go to bed.”

“Nighty-night.”

I stuck my wineglass in the sink, debated whether to break into the bag of leftover Chinese food, but took the high road. I poured water into the automatic coffeemaker and added three scoops of Peet’s Blend 101 for the morning, then headed off to bed.

Eight hours later I awoke feeling strangely refreshed and amazed I’d been able to sleep even a wink. The smell of freshly brewed coffee assailed me, so I jumped out of bed and checked the guest bedroom. Robin was already up and gone, but when I got to the kitchen, I saw that she’d taken ten or twelve stickies and drawn arrows pointing to the one in the middle that said Feed cats.

“Very funny,” I growled as I grabbed a cup of coffee. I savored it for a few minutes, then called Ian and confirmed our ten o’clock meeting at the Covington before wandering off to take a quick shower. Afterward, I blow-dryed my hair, then dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black turtleneck sweater. I glanced in the mirror and felt depressed by all the black, so I added a cheerful green jacket for color. After a few quick swipes of mascara and some lip gloss, I microwaved a bowl of Vinnie’s Shanghai noodles and slurped them down, followed by two caramel chocolate kisses from the new bag I’d opened. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but the noodles were incredibly delicious and helped raise my mood a few more notches.

I was down in the garage, jogging to my car, when I remembered Pookie and Splinters.