What I don’t tell her is that the person I know is my mom. Her firm is the best in town, though, so I would be doing this lady a solid.
The woman dries her tears, and her electric blue eyes burn into me. They’re not the right color, but there’s something familiar in her fiery gaze.
“I am not a realtor,” the woman says finally, each word clipped.
My eyebrow inches up. “Oh, yeah? Who the heck are you then? An effin’ trespasser?”
Goldie would be so proud of my manners. I haven’t let a single curse word slip out. My stomach sinks. I miss that old lady.
The blonde steps closer, lifting her chin. “I’m not a trespasser. Nora.”
Clo bites me hard enough I release him. He flutters aroundNorabefore landing on her shoulder. This time she doesn’t panic and eyes him with a small smile. I rub at the burning pinched place on my skin.Little ungrateful chirpy twerp.
“Elias Cove. I live next door. Handyman. In case you, uh, need to hire out some help fixing up Goldie’s place.” I frown at her. “But you’re not a realtor, so…”
Nora’s plump pink lips part and her cheeks redden. Is she embarrassed that I’m calling her out? If she doesn’t have any business being here, I’ll be calling the sheriff next. Monroe owes me a beer anyway.
“I’m Goldie’s granddaughter,” she says, dropping her eyes to the grass. “NoraEverhart.”
Everhart.
The name is a kick to my chest. I’m unable to breathe for at least three minutes. I stare at this woman with new, judging eyes.
“You’re her only grandchild.” A loud, bordering on cruel scoff escapes me. “You didn’t go to her funeral.”
Her face crumples and I feel sick.
Who does that?
Goldie loved this girl more than anything and she couldn’t even be bothered to show up.
“Where are her birds?” Nora demands, chin quivering.
“If you’d been around, maybe you’d know,” I growl.
Clo, sensing the tension, leaps off her shoulder and makes a beeline over to the greenhouse-turned-aviary in Goldie’s backyard. He lands on the wind chime near the door, making it clang loudly, as he waits to be let in.
Nora swivels around to see where he went and then lets out a small gasp.
From our vantage point, you can see movement within the small building. When I finished the build last year, I moved all the rescues from Goldie’s cottage into it for more space. And because I needed to take over their care. Having the aviary out back was easier than getting Goldie to allow me inside her home which was really difficult.
That old woman was too proud for her own good.
“They’re alive,” Nora croaks out as she races over to the aviary.
I stomp after her, agitated about her presence in general. It’s pretty low to miss your own grandma’s funeral and only show up to sell the house. I don’t need to ask her to know why she’s here. The cottage, once sold, will bring in a pretty penny. Apparently, money is all those city folks care about anyway.
Nora jiggles the handle, but it doesn’t open. “Let me in. Why are they locked inside?”
For someone who hasn’t visited the entire decade I’ve lived next door, she has some gall with her demands. I reach up to pull the key off the hook and unlock the door. We have to keep it locked because some of the budgies are smart and can get doors open. Especially Frodo. As if summoned by thought alone, a yellow head pokes out the second I get the door open.
“Stay back,” I warn. “Your buddy’s here, Frodo.”
Clo, happy to be with his friends, swoops past us into the chaotic aviary. I don’t go in because I’ve already done my birdie duties for the day. The place is so clean you can eat off the floor, not that anyone would want to. Well, aside from Frodo. He’ll eatanythingfromanywhere.
“Oh, you sweet babies,” Nora says, entering the space. “I’m here now. It’s all going to be okay.”
I snort in derision. Is this lady for real right now?
