Page 14 of Freeing Lark

Marilyn beamed. “Wonderful.” But then her brow furrowed in concern. “Did you stay up all night again?”

Lark shrugged. He then noticed the faint shadows beneath her eyes. Eyes that were a mysterious shade of green-gray. How had he missed those the first time they’d met? Yet, the fatigue in them was easy to read, and his guilt from his harsh words resurfaced.

Marilyn turned toward Hoot. “You’ve met my niece.”

Hoot’s eyes darted back and forth between the two women, his surprise mounting as he realized his initial observation about Lark’s resemblance to Marilyn had been remarkably accurate. “Niece?”

Lark nodded sheepishly. “I moved here a couple weeks ago to be closer to her.”

“So you’re the mysterious niece,” Cammie said brightly as she came around the counter. “Marilyn’s been talking about you forever.”

Lark laughed. “Hopefully only good things.”

“The best things.”

Within thirty seconds the two women chatted as though they’d been friends since kindergarten.

Artists. Hoot decided that explained everything. They spoke an entirely different language. Cammie offered to remake his espresso, and they all followed her to the counter. She and Lark continued talking as she worked. Half of it went over his head.

“...and this is my niece, Lark Meadows,” Marilyn was saying again, as though introducing her properly mattered.

Hoot looked at Lark. Then snorted. He couldn’t help it.

She turned. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

He took another look at her. She tilted her head curiously. Like a bird. Of course. “Lark.”

“What about it?”

“It’s fitting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t decide if that was a compliment.”

“You remind me of one.”

“A bird?”

He nodded. “You move like one.”

She folded her arms. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”

“I’m not sure either.” To his surprise, she laughed. A genuine laugh.

“Well... I suppose that’s better than being compared to a pigeon.”

“I wasn’t thinking pigeon.”

“What were you thinking?”

He considered answering. Then decided against it.

Instead, he picked up the replacement espresso Cammie had silently prepared and took a sip. Still perfect.

Lark watched him over the rim of her own coffee. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. She seemed every bit as scattered as she had on the island. Creative. Snarky. A walking magnet for bad luck. Easy to dismiss.