Ryan had gotten a job one summer cat sitting for Crazy Margaret. Crazy Margaret was an old woman who lived in a cluttered Spanish-style house three blocks away with a bevy of cats. She was known for her thick, raspy voice—enhanced by constant smoking—and her incongruous uniform of turbans, patterned house dresses, and fancy gold or silver heels, as though she were poised at any moment to set sail on a cruise.
Lia and Ryan walked over to the house the day Margaret was due to leave for San Francisco. They had to remember to call her Miss Margaret and not “Crazy Margaret,” for “crazy” was an appellation given to her years before by some of the older kids, which she wasn’t supposed to know about.
Pushing open the green gate, the girls stepped into Margaret’s wild, unkempt garden. Cat eyes sp
