“He’s going through his paces,” Hannah told Ross. “Do you think he’s auditioning for you?”

“Without a doubt. He must have understood what you said about being a kitty movie star, and he wants his paw prints at Mann’s Chinese.”

“Not to mention his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.” Hannah’s smile turned into a laugh as Moishe lifted his head and yawned widely, showing them a full set of sharp white teeth. Then he swiveled his ears, first together, like twin satellite dishes receiving the same signal, and then separately, one ear turning forward and the other backward.

“I still can’t do that,” Ross said, glancing over at Hannah. “Can you?”

Hannah shook her head. She knew exactly what Ross was talking about. When they were all in college, Lynne had learned to simultaneously move her right hand in a circle going forward, like a miniature Ferris Wheel, while her left moved in a circle traveling in the opposite direction, backward toward her chest. Both circles had to be started at the same time and they had to be of the same size and speed. “I tried for months and I still couldn’t do it. I think it takes more than practice.”

“I know it does. I practiced, too. Lynne didn’t. She got it right the first time she tried it. I’m sure there’s some sort of psychological measure we could devise about the differences between the people who can do it and the people who can’t, but we probably shouldn’t get into that now.”

Hannah turned to give Ross a sharp look, but he was staring at Moishe. Ross had claimed he wasn’t bitter about the breakup with Lynne, but she’d heard an undercurrent in his voice that told her it hadn’t been all sweetness and light. It wasn’t really any of her business and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him about it now, but that curious bone in her body began to tingle. “Do you want coffee?”

“I’d love some, if you’re not in a hurry to get to bed, or anything like that.”

What a line! Hannah thought, but it probably wasn’t and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed, or not. “Coffee’s no trouble at all. I usually stay up until at least ten on nights before work, and it’s only a little after nine.”

“Okay. You’re the boss. What time do you open your shop?”

“We’ve been opening at nine. When the tourists are here in the summer, we open earlier.”

“Well, I don’t need you to open before ten, so that’ll give you an extra hour.”

“Not really. I promised to deliver Mr. Lawrence’s cheesecake at nine and I still have to bake it. That’ll take me about two hours.”

“Do you want company while you bake it?”