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Cubby chuckled.
“Mrs. C painted my toes.” Faith shucked off her sneakers and pulled off a sock. “I have one in every glittery color.”
“They look pretty cool. That woman, though.” Cubby sighed. “She made me come out to check the tree hanging over her house. Hank was there and gave me a look that said he was more than capable of doing it.”
“What did she really want?” Lucy asked.
“She wanted to fit me for a new shirt. Apparently, she’s trying sewing again. Since you kicked her out of the shop, Lucy, she’s bored.”
“I didn’t kick her out; she begged me to buy her out!”
“Still, it’s not been good on the rest of us,” Cubby added. “My new shirt is in pale lavender with gold braid on the shoulders. She thinks it should be my new uniform.”
“Could be a good look on you.” Faith giggled.
Bandit and Buddy wandered down the hill. The cat climbed into Faith’s lap, where he’d pretty much been since she’d come home from The Yelp. He slept cuddled up to some part of her body. Faith had loved the company, especially when she woke at night wondering why someone had wanted to hurt her.
Huffing out a doggy breath, Buddy sat and leaned on her, as if to let her know he was seriously pissed with her too.
“They haven’t left your side since you came home.” Lucy sniffed.
“They know that people are bringing me food,” Faith said, patting the animals. “But I know they love me and were worried too.”
“I’ve been researching state laws,” Cubby said, rocking back and forth on his feet.
“Why?” Faith asked
“Always good to upskill. Did you know that a person may not test their physical endurance while driving a car on the highway in Oregon?”
“Why would they?”
The sheriff waggled his eyebrows.
“Gross.” Lucy laughed.
“In Minnesota, a person may not cross state lines with a bird on top of his head.”
Faith and Lucy giggled as Cubby continued to entertain them with the most ridiculous laws in America.
“Who let her out?”
“She let herself out,” Lucy said as Buster wandered up with Joe Trainer on his heels. The Ryker man had spent time in The Howler talking with her and Noah about how they ran things because he owned a bar in his hometown.
“Hey there, sweet cheeks. I heard you got hurt.” Joe bent to kiss her cheek, then ran a gentle hand over her shoulder. “I didn’t come to your room, as the queue was long.”
“Tell me about it. And thanks, Joe. Good to see you too.”
He was like the guys in Howling. Big, tall, with a side of bad when required. Married to Bailey, who had been a concert pianist in another lifetime, he was a tamed bad boy, from what she’d heard.
“You guys need to do a better job of watching her,” Buster snapped.
“I’m an adult and can make my own decisions,” Faith snapped back. “You all go on about your business and leave me in peace. You’re making my head hurt.”
“What’s she doing out here?”
“We’re just attempting to ascertain that, Mrs. Roberts Haigh,” Buster said, straightening his shoulders like a solider. “It’s rebellion, to my way of thinking,” he added, throwing Faith to the wolves.
She wore a suit, the shirt beneath so white it hurt Faith’s eyes. Her shoes were polished and the pantyhose tan. She also wore her pearls, and as they were only for special occasions, she was clearly heading somewhere.
