Once upon a cat, p.1
Once Upon a Cat, page 1
Copyright © 2025 by Gabrielle Landi
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Contents
1. Thea
2. Nat
3. Thea
4. Nat
5. Thea
6. Nat
7. Thea
8. Nat
9. Thea
10. Nat
11. Thea
12. Nat
13. Thea
14. Nat
15. Thea
16. Nat
17. Thea
19. Thea
Epilogue
Author's Note
Acknowledgements
Also by Gabrielle Landi
About the Author
Chapter one
Thea
Thea’s life flashed before her eyes as she stumbled toward the oven. She threw a hand out to try to catch herself, narrowly avoiding slamming her face into the burning hot bricks.
Ginger.
That infernal cat.
Ginger was not one to get in the way most of the time, but when she decided to get underfoot, she made it her particular goal to try to ruin Thea’s life.
The tray of berry tarts in her hand had nearly fallen as Thea stumbled, but fortunately, although the pastries slid, they didn’t hit the ground.
Thank goodness. She didn’t have time to make a new batch today.
She’d been up since the early morning preparing the baked goods to sell. It was going to be a busy day—the sewing group was going to take over the café this afternoon.
She didn’t mind. It was nice to have regular business.
But if she did not have berry tarts, however, there would be a riot, because the sewing ladies loved them.
They’d asked for cinnamon rolls…but those had too many memories in them for her to make them. They had to be content with berry tarts and gingersnaps.
She glared at the cat, who sprawled out at her feet, completely unrepentant.
“What are you doing?” she asked, scowling at the fluffy orange cat. “You know better.”
Ginger offered a meow and stretched out further on her back, as if asking to be petted.
“I’m not petting you,” Thea said, frowning at her. “You just tried to kill me.”
She hurried to the counter and placed the berry tarts down before Ginger could retaliate for the lack of attention and trip her again.
If only she could put the cat to work. She could use the help. It had been a couple of years since she’d started the café, and her popularity had grown in leaps and bounds.
It was a far cry from the early days when Roan tried to stop her from opening. While he still didn’t like the café, he was no longer incredibly opposed to it, because as far as she could tell, he was actually getting more business now. Between the library and the café, the women who lived around the region had more reason than ever to come into town—and they were more likely to let their husbands come, too.
Thea glanced at the door—she hadn’t opened it yet. She looked around in satisfaction, taking in the cozy, neat room, and the mouthwatering assembly on the counter.
It was time for another good day.
She unlocked the door, and it was only a moment before her first customer of the day arrived.
It was good that she’d been prepared this morning, because after that, Thea was lost in a daze. Recently she’d become so busy that she barely had time to think, much less get something to eat or drink herself.
She shoveled a blueberry muffin into her mouth as she walked around and wiped down tables in one moment where there was no one waiting at the counter.
Perhaps it was time to hire someone if she could barely keep the counters clean.
Maybe she could put out some feelers. There had to be someone looking for a job who would be able to keep to her strict standards.
If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was that a place that served food had to have high standards.
Her heart ached at the thought of her father. If only he could see what she had done here in the Northlands. He would be proud. She knew that deep down, but part of her wished to see it herself, to see his face when he saw what she had built.
And she had built it all by herself.
But maybe it was time to no longer do it all herself.
The door opened, and Guinevere walked in, smiling widely when she saw Thea.
“Good afternoon,” she called. “I was wondering if you had any of those carrot cake muffins left.”
Thea smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Anything for my favorite customer.”
“You can’t say that,” Guinevere said, shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to have favorites.”
“And yet, I do.” Thea wrapped up a carrot cake muffin and handed it across the counter.
Guinevere handed her a coin, and Thea pocketed it without looking at it. She knew Guinevere wasn’t going to try to shortchange her, unlike some of the people who walked through the door.
“Good day?” Guinevere asked, looking around the café, where there were still a few patrons sitting in peace, enjoying their pastries and drinks.
“It’s fine,” Thea said. “Busy.”
“When is it not?” Guinevere asked with a grin. “You’re always busy now. It’s so exciting to see.”
“It’s nice to be busy,” Thea agreed. It was nice to know that she could afford her rent each month without worrying about it, and her nest egg had grown quite a lot—which was a wonderful feeling.
Speaking of rent… Nathaniel would be here soon. She needed to prepare his money.
“What was that face for?” Guinevere asked, her tone as mischievous as Dietrich’s would have been, had he been here.
“I just remembered I have to pay the rent today,” Thea said.
“And that means you’ll be seeing Mr. Alder,” Guinevere said, her eyes twinkling.
Guinevere had been here the last time Nathaniel had come by for the rent, and she’d noticed the weird tension between the two of them.
Thea wasn’t sure if anyone in town knew her history with Nat.
She wasn’t sure if anyone knew that he had been the only man she’d ever loved—and that he’d left and hadn’t written for years. It was merely a twist of fate that led her to settling down in the same town as him, and an unfortunate fact that the only building available to rent was one that he owned.
“Maybe I’ll stay a while,” Guinevere said with a smirk, taking her muffin and making her way to one of the tables.
Thea followed her, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“It’s not ridiculous,” Guinevere said. “I would love nothing more than to see you find your own happily ever after. Goodness knows, we’ve had enough of them happen in this building.”
Thea sighed. She agreed with Guinevere. Too many of her friends—friends who had once been her closest companions—had found love with someone, and she’d had the privilege of seeing a couple of them in the café. But now it just meant that she was lonely most of the time.
“I don’t need Nathaniel Alder,” Thea said firmly.
Guinevere laughed. “You can say that, but I don’t believe you.”
“You should,” Thea said, glaring at her friend—but it was a half-hearted glare. Guinevere meant well, and it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know that Thea had sworn to never, ever let Nathaniel Alder anywhere near her heart again.
He’d done a good enough job of breaking it once.
She didn’t need to hand him what she had stitched back together and watch him tear it apart a second time.
“Speaking of Mr. Alder…” Guinevere said, glancing out the window. “I do believe that’s him now.”
Thea glanced up, ignoring the way her heart quickened.
“Are those flowers?” Guinevere giggled. Actually giggled.
Thea sighed. “He brings flowers for the café because he says it’s good for business, and he wants me to have good business so that I can keep paying him.”
Guinevere laughed so loud, some of the other patrons looked up at them, and Thea shushed her friend.
“I’m sorry,” Guinevere said, though she didn’t look it. “That is the cutest thing I’ve heard in quite some time. I mean, he brings you flowers but pretends they’re for the building so you won’t tell him no.”
Thea sighed. Of course Guinevere had figured
“You need to give him a chance,” Guinevere said. “The man is clearly in love with you.”
“Would you hush?” Thea scolded, getting to her feet as Nathaniel approached the door and making her way behind the counter to gather the rent money.
She carefully avoided looking at Guinevere as Nathaniel opened the door and the bell over the door rang. He took the bouquet he carried to the first open table that he saw, setting it down and carefully arranging it before nodding to Guinevere. She looked on in amusement as he made his way to the counter where Thea stood waiting, carefully avoiding looking at him until the last possible moment.
He was just as handsome as he had been all those years ago when she fell hopelessly in love with him. His beard was less patchy than it had been, though.
“Good afternoon,” he said, his eyes twinkling warmly the way they always had.
But she didn’t want to see them twinkling like that.
“Good afternoon,” she said briskly, reaching to count out the coins for the month’s rent. “This should be it. Will you count it for me?”
“Of course,” he said, keeping his own tone businesslike as he reached over and took the coins from her hand, her darker skin a stark contrast to his.
His eyes glanced up at her, though his head remained lowered, and she could see the smile playing on the edge of his mouth.
But she carefully avoided looking at him—especially his lips.
She knew what those lips felt like on hers, and she didn’t need to start thinking about it now—even if there was a part of her that desperately wanted to experience kissing Nathaniel Alder again.
Chapter two
Nat
It was hard not to laugh at Thea as she pretended that she still hated him. Nathaniel could hardly keep his mouth from twitching in amusement as she looked away from him, her brown eyes darting around the room in an effort to look at anything but his face.
At least, it would be amusing if he didn’t wish desperately to know why she was avoiding him. If her dark curls hadn’t been up in a bun, she would probably be hiding behind her hair, too.
He had hoped when she first came to the Northlands that she would be willing to tell him what had happened, why she had never written to him, but she not only had been unwilling to talk about it with him, she seemed actively angry at him. He was at a loss as to why, but at least he had the café as an excuse to talk to her and see her and interact with her—no matter how much she tried to pretend she didn’t want to see him.
He counted the money the way she’d asked, even though he would rather just trust her. She wasn’t going to try to shortchange him. It would go against all her beliefs.
There had never once been a short payment from her, even in the months when the nights grew cold and the visitors grew slim, and he worried that she was cutting her groceries rather than asking him to hold a rent payment until later.
But that was one of the things that he’d fallen in love with all those years ago: how unfailingly honest she was. It wouldn’t be the same if she was no longer that girl…though that girl had been willing to speak to him, so perhaps he should wish for her to come back.
“I want to wish you a wonderful evening,” he said to Thea. His voice was more formal than he would have liked, but when he tried to be informal, Thea didn’t like it.
He would give anything for her to love him once more.
“I’m just going to say hello to Ginger before I leave,” he told her. Her eyes softened at the mention of her beloved cat, and she turned to look at the empty fireplace where Ginger was waiting, looking up at Nat expectantly.
“I see you,” he said to the orange cat as he made his way over to pet her.
It was odd to be jealous of a cat, but at times he was. Ginger had a closeness with Thea that he desperately wished to have again.
“Did you think I’d forgotten you?” he asked Ginger as he knelt down and began to rub her belly. “You are a spoiled little thing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, she is,” a voice piped up from behind him.
Nat glanced at the woman. She looked familiar, but why? He couldn’t place her.
“I’m Guinevere,” she said with a smile. “I was just coming over to say hello to Ginger as well, before I have to head back to Eldenwilde.”
Ah, that explained it. If she lived on Lord Dunham’s estate, he wouldn’t have had much opportunity to meet her, but he had probably seen her around town. And if she was familiar with Ginger, then she was probably a regular at the café, which meant he was indebted to her for keeping Thea from leaving town.
He had no doubts that if the café ever failed here, Thea would leave the Northlands just as quickly as she’d come.
It was his personal mission to ensure that that never happened, because if Thea left, he wasn’t sure what he would do—except leave everything and follow her like he should’ve done the first time he left.
It wasn’t that he regretted staying to take care of his mother. He couldn’t. But he did regret never going back when his mother no longer needed him. He should’ve gone back for her, and he was reminded of that every time he saw her. Saw how she had to be strong all the time. How alone she was.
She was alone, but she didn’t want him to change that.
Yet.
He had every intention of changing her mind.
He would be willing to return to their happy camaraderie, at the very least, if it meant Thea wouldn’t be so alone. And if that led to more as it had before…well, he wouldn’t complain.
His mind returned to happier days baking in her father’s bakery, flour messes and stolen kisses, working together and sharing life.
That’s what he wanted again.
Ginger bumped his hand, begging for attention, and he brought himself back from his memories.
“I’ll see you around, Ginge,” he told the cat, scratching under her chin one more time before he got to his feet and turned to wave to Thea, who nodded her head briskly and turned away, pretending she hadn’t been watching him the whole time he’d been talking to Ginger.
Oh, Thea. He hid his grin as he made his way toward the door, waving to a few of the patrons as he exited. The door closed behind him, and he stepped into the sunshine, letting his smile loose.
She was paying more attention to him, whether she wanted to or not. It was only a matter of time before things would change between them. He could feel it. Change was brewing.
The back of his neck prickled, and he turned around to see a man making his way toward the café, muttering to himself, walking in a wavy line.
It didn’t seem like the effects of having spent too much time in his brother’s tavern…but there was something off about him.
And he was going toward Thea.
Adrenaline surging, Nat strode toward the man, intercepting him before he made it to the café’s entrance. “Hello, sir. Can I ask your business?”
“What’s it to you?” the man growled, surly.
“I own the building,” he said, “and I’m making sure everything is well here.”
“I’m in need of a drink,” the man snarled. “It’s none of your business what I do.”
“On the contrary,” Nathaniel said, stepping to the side to block as the man tried to go around him. “I do believe it is my business. I think you ought to move along, sir.”
“I don’t have to listen to you,” the man said shortly, reaching into the pocket of his cloak. “You are in my way. I suggest you move.”
Did he think Nat was going to let Thea deal with this situation instead of him?
Not a chance.
“I don’t think so,” Nat said.
He froze as the man pulled something out of his pocket.
Was it a knife?
No, a stick.
That wasn’t a stick.
Was it…a wand? Wasn’t magic a childish story? Was it simply a strange attempt to intimidate him, or was the man delusional?
He didn’t want to find out, but he didn’t want to leave Thea to face it, either.
He stood his ground.
“You need not go to the café,” he said formally. “You can find a drink elsewhere. Perhaps the tavern.”
Roan was a big boy. He could handle himself when it came to strange men with wands.
“Yeah? You think I’m some sort of animal unfit to enter your building?”
