Chapter 3
Just after three, a soft knock roused Dez from snoozing on the couch. Only one person could be rapping on his door rather than ringing the buzzer on the street entrance. He rose quickly. He didn’t want Fran looking at him so concerned and worried again.
He opened the door to find Fran, and the ginger Tom who’d slept on Dez’s stomach a couple of nights ago, weaving around his feet. Fran carried a plate with a couple of slices of what had been the hero cake. He smiled cautiously. “The staff ate the rest of it. But it’s your cake. So…do you want a piece? Or do you have some fundamental moral objection to cake?”
Dez cracked a smile. “No. Cake is good.” And since there were two slices, Dez assumed Fran wasn’t here just to drop off a piece and go away. “Come in,” he said, standing b
