The museum guards who’d screamed at her in countless languages. The backstabbing family members she’d outwitted. Those furious Benedictine monks. But none of those expressions quite matched the look of pure loathing on Saladin’s face as the silver cat glared at Amy, his whiskers twitching with rage. “I’m sorry, Saladin,” she said, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know where the contractor put the laundry room key. I’ll have to find it later, okay?” She glanced down at her watch. The other Cahills would be here any minute, and she still hadn’t figured out where the movers had stashed the extra bedding. The cat flattened his ears. Amy reached out to scratch his fluffy head, but he pulled back and hissed. Ever since they’d moved into their grandmother Grace’s partially rebuilt mansion, Saladin had taken possession of the small laundry room next to the kitchen. Normally, the regal cat would’ve turned up his damp nose at such undignified accommodations, but it was the only spot in the new house where he would sleep.
What do You think about The 39 Clues Turbulence (2011)?
