“And then you took her on a tour of the library?”Stevie asked.
“After the cocoa, yes.”
“I never knew you hid cocoa at work.”
“I have to have some secrets, don’t I?”
“Not secrets about chocolate.And especially not aboutbrandy.Who are you?”
Corinthia straightened up and leashed the dog.“I’m beginning to wonder.”She walked into the kitchen and downed the rapidly cooling dregs of her coffee.There was a strange taste in her mouth—probably what had caused her to have rather odd dreams about eating acorns.
She turned toward the front door when Beaufort pulled in the other direction so hard that Corinthia stumbled.“Beaufort!”she cried.“What’s gotten into you?”
Beaufort strained toward the back door.
“Wrong way, dog.We go out thefrontdoor for walks, remember?”To Stevie, she added, “Sorry, dog’s being weird.”
Beaufort pulled harder and let out a bay: AWRH-roo AWRH-roo AWRH-roo.
“Must be a bird or a squirrel out there,” Stevie said.
“Or a tumbling plastic bag,” Corinthia said.“The last time he saw one, he went to Def-Con Five until it was out of sight.I think he thought it was a new kind of raccoon.”Corinthia looked out the back window—and froze.
Where once the motley assortment of weeds formed what passed for a lawn, white sand had spilled halfway across the yard, all the way to the base of the wizened grapefruit tree close to the house.Oak tree branches that had previously confined themselves to the Refuge now strained over the top of Corinthia’s wooden fence.
The weight of the trees pressed down on the fence so much that it listed at an angle.With any more pressure, it might give up and fall down flat.Between the crush of the trees and the flood of white sand, it looked like the Refuge had risen up and crashed like a breaking wave—but only on Corinthia’s yard, and no other.
Beaufort was still pulling and baying, ready to investigate.
“Stevie,” Corinthia said, “can you come over?”
“What?Why?”
“Something happened to the backyard.”
When Stevie had agreed and Corinthia had directed her to come around the back, they hung up.Corinthia placed the phone carefully on the kitchen counter.She opened the door and walked the dog outside.
In the daily lottery of autumn weather, the sky was blindingly blue and it was already warm outside.Corinthia and Beaufort crossed the small back porch and stepped down into the yard.
There was a clear line where the sand stopped, as if it hadn’t been slowly blown in but had been dropped, neatly, like a fluffy white duvet.
Beaufort quieted down and set to pacing back and forth along the edge of the intruding sand, sniffing mightily.
A wind shook the trees.Corinthia even took an involuntary step back, before chastising herself for being silly.She crossed the sand with Beaufort and looked over the sagging fence, where she could now see directly into the Refuge.Dense and tangled trees still obscured the view, but a white sand path wandered into the woods, and invisible birds let out cries of alarm.
What could have done this?
Corinthia walked the dog around the yard until her own footprints chased the dog’s paw prints all across the white sand, and tried to understand.
The gate to the side yard banged and Stevie appeared, visibly excited and walking fast—until she caught sight of the sand, the trees, and the listing fence, and stopped in her tracks.“What happened?”
“You tell me, nature expert.”
Beaufort was nearly ecstatic with this new turn of events—what could be better than friendsanda heap of new earth to sniff?—and gamboled happily at the end of the leash.
Stevie greeted the dog with pats.“Tornado?”
“Not a cloud in the sky.”
