Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,5

chatted with her while some guy packed up his camera.

Lark turned around to him. Everett noticed the radiance in her eyes, akin to the sun coming up in the morning.

She jumped up and hugged him.

Everett brought his free hand up on her back for a pat.

“I just love Lark,” the parrot repeated and then squawked.

Everyone burst into laughter except Everett.

“I’m so glad you’re here. You brought Igor. By the way, he likes to repeat things.” Lark wiggled her eyebrows. “So be careful what you say.”

Everett frowned. “Well, I didn’t. I mean—”

Lark looked at him as if they’d always been friends. “He’s your housewarming gift. I had him delivered from Springdale. I thought since you were all alone, Igor could keep you company.”

Four

A cough erupted from Everett’s mouth. Just as he was about to explain himself, the female reporter lifted her chin as if to bring the conversation back to business.

“We have everything we need,” the reporter said. “Thanks for your time, Ms. Wendell. You were marvelous.” She lifted the lapel mike off Lark’s overalls and shook her hand. “By the way, if I leave without an autograph for my daughter, I’ll be in trouble tonight.”

Lark gave each crew member a hand-signed piece of art and a hug good-bye. She stayed in the room with him, while the crew filed down the staircase. To avoid the Igor topic, he found himself simply glancing around, taking in the various aspects of the room. Light purple walls with a sign over the door that read, “IMAGINE.” Flower petals strewn on the floor. Electric guitar on a stand in the corner. Books and art magazines stacked here and there and a bowl full of jellybeans on the floor near a beanbag chair. “Aren’t you going downstairs to lock your door?”

“No. We have very little crime here. In fact, sometimes I forget to lock up.”

This woman is so naive. “You’re being a bit. . .reckless,” Everett said. “Don’t you think?”

Lark walked over to the birdcage. “You don’t like Igor, do you?”

Everett switched gears. “Why did you really buy me a talking parrot? You could have just brought me brownies. I like brownies.” Well, until I tasted Skelly’s.

“Why not buy a talking parrot?” Lark looked at Igor and smiled. “I saw him online, and he seemed like a gift you might enjoy. I really—”

“But how would you know that?” Everett rubbed his aching head. “You don’t even know me. And I know it must have been very expensive.”

“Don’t you like pets?”

Everett shifted his weight. Keeping up with his neighbor’s conversation was as exasperating as using a cup to empty a sinking boat. “Let’s just say, pets don’t agree with me.”

Lark laughed. A bubbling kind of giggle that wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sound.

“They don’t agree with you?” Lark asked. “It’s not like you’re going to eat Igor for dinner.”

“Igor for dinner.” The bird shrieked and ruffled his feathers.

“I appreciate the thought, but I have no time for pets. I work long hours. He would be neglected, so I’d like you to have. . .Igor.” Everett saw a little light go out of Lark’s eyes. Something made him want to bring that light back, but he wasn’t sure why. He might have to think on that one later. “I mean, it would be like turning my house into a resort for flying animals.” Guess I shouldn’t have said that last part. Why is she staring at my clothes? He looked down at his jeans, which were full of holes. And his feet were bare. Not good. He wondered how that happened. He never did that sort of thing. Well, at least the cold front hadn’t made it through yet.

Lark opened the cage door. “Hi there, Igor. You’re a sweetie.”

“You’re a sweetie,” the bird said back to her.

Lark chuckled as she stroked his neck. The bird dipped his head next to her hand and closed its eyes.

While Lark appeared distracted, Everett took note that her office had no blinds or curtains at the huge window. Most people put up drapes and heavy shutters, but as an artist she must like to use the natural light.

He stepped over to her art table and looked at one of her watercolor paintings. The sheet of rough, white paper seemed to come to life with rabbits, foxes, and turtles all hiding among the ferns and tree trunks. The fanciful pictures were no less than what? Enchanting? He’d better not get caught using that word in public.

But the illustrations reminded him of an earlier