“I didn’t lock you up,” I remind him, glad not to be the bad guy for once. “And don’t you remember what I said?”
He chirps a whole lot of nonsense as if he’s actually reciting my own words back to me, but we both know he doesn’t listen.
“That’s right,” I say to my bird friend. “Birds cannot eat Italian food.”
Nora laughs softly. My chest tightens because it makes me think of Goldie. She was the one who always laughed at my Clo teasing.
I clear my throat and wash up the dishes, keeping my mind on things that don’t make me want to bawl like a little kid. Like sailboats. Or football. The BudgieFest seasonal coffee menu at Baked & Brewed.Anything other than the loss of my elderly friend.
“I have a good list going,” Nora says, the earlier dread gone from her voice. “What do you think?”
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and saunter over to where she’s perched at the bar like a little bird. Clo, the nosy critter,is running back and forth across the countertop in front of her notebook, pecking at the edges of the paper.
“Don’t be a menace, Clo.”
He sings a pretty song, completely ignoring my grumbling. Nora laughs again. Another stab at my heart. I swallow hard and come to stand behind her so I can look over her shoulder. Even her handwriting reminds me of Goldie’s. Same curly swoops. Minus the shaky lines.
I skim over the list. It’s surprisingly detailed and long. There are items on there I don’t expect like:
Clean Grandma’s teacups and carefully box up.
For someone heartless, and who didn’t care enough to go to her grandmother’s funeral, that’s an awfully personal item on her to-do list.
“It’s ambitious,” I say instead of giving her the credit for being human.
“That’s why it’s a ta-da list, not a to-do list.”
She glances over her shoulder at me, a mischievous grin on her pink lips. This close to her, I can see freckles I hadn’t noticed before. Just a small smattering across her nose. Her big bright eyes glitter like the deep blues of the bay.
“What’s a ta-da list?” I ask, taking a necessary step back, because up close I notice way too many things about her that I have no business noticing.
“For one,” she says breezily as she draws a few stars around “ta-da” at the top of her paper, “it’s way more fun. Not boring at all. When you have to do something, it sucks the fun out. But, when you reframe it as something exciting, you’re eager to say, ‘ta-da’ each time you cross something off.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I’m not saying ‘ta-da’ after list number nine.”
“Scraping all the old paint off the porch railings is a total ‘ta-da’ moment, Elias. Don’t be such a grump.”
Clo chitters as if to agree. Traitor.
“I’ll leave all the ‘ta-da’ moments for you to handle,” I say as I pluck up the pen and notebook. “I have some stuff to add.”
In my own section of the paper, I clearly write “to-do” and then scribble down my own list of things that need doing. Mostly, it’s a bunch of clearing crap out of the house, boxing things up, and giving it a good scrub down. Dad will have his own detailed list of the contractor side of it when actual repairs will be made. As I write, Nora drums her manicured nails on the countertop and Clo runs over to her hand to inspect what she’s doing.
“Your haircut looks nice,” Nora says softly.
The compliment makes me bristle for some reason. I drop the notebook and pen on the countertop like they’re on fire. I’m not sure what it is about this woman, but she leaves me unsettled.
“Most people just say thanks.” She scowls at me. “I’ve met your parents so you can’t blame it on your upbringing.”
A flash of irritation burns hot through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Clo flaps his wings angrily at me likeI’mthe problem here.
“You’re rude,” she says, matter of fact. “Every time I try to be nice, you get weird.”
I cross my arms over my chest to glower at her. “Rude or weird? Which is it?”
“Both!”
