I opened the window and took a long whiff of the chill morning air. The scent of wood smoke filtered in, and the thought occurred to me that maybe we’d better get a chimney sweep over before next week. We didn’t use the fireplace often, but when we did, I wanted to feel safe. Right now I could go for a crackling fire, curled up in a leather chair with an afghan to toss across my legs.
As I stared into the backyard, the lot next door was barely visible over the top of the fence. Joe and I had discussed pulling the fence down, but we wanted to wait until we cleared out the years of vegetation. Plans were that the lot would become an extension of my property, when we finally made the move to join households. We wanted to plant gardens, create a little pond, maybe a gazebo. While not officially engaged, Joe and I had an understanding. This one was for keeps, regardless of I-do’s or golden rings.
I realized I was shivering and shut the window. As I dug through my closet, hunting for my grunge clothes, Joe stirred.
“Honey? What time is it?” he asked, squinting at the nightstand.
“Nine. If you want to get the rest of the lot cleared, you’d better get up and eat. I’d like to get started before noon. I’ve decided I’m not going to clean the shop since I’m on vacation; Cinnamon and Lana can handle it.” Every Saturday morning, rain or shine, the kids and I trooped down to the Chintz ’n China and went to work, dusting, sweeping, polishing until it sparkled. But I was giving myself full latitude on my time off.
The kids deserved a break, too, especially Kip, who had spent the first three Sundays of October at the Bread & Butter House, serving dinner to the poorer residents of Chiqetaw. He’d pulled a stupid stunt in August, and I hoped the lesson would teach him a little bit about generosity and honesty.
Joe reached out for me and I crawled across the covers, still in my bathrobe, and settled into his arms. As we leaned back against the headboard, he played with my hair. “Emerald, are you okay with the fact that I bought the lot? I don’t want to move too fast, and you haven’t said much over the past week about it. I was hoping that you haven’t changed your mind.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “You took me by surprise, but yeah, I’m happy. I just . . . for some reason, I’m just feeling uncomfortable today. Like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.”
“What’s wrong?”
But I couldn’t answer. Yesterday I’d been pleased as punch, but today I didn’t want to go outside, especially next door, where we still faced a mountain of foliage. The thought of staying home, making soup and biscuits, maybe watching an old movie or two, was far more appealing than mucking around in the cold.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. I had nightmares last night. I guess they threw me off.” My dreams were often turbulent, and Joe had more than once woken me out of the clutches of some evil menace waiting to gobble me up.
He pushed me into sitting position and began to rub my shoulders, massaging the knots that had formed there during the night. “What were they about this time? Not Roy, I hope?”
Ever since I’d let Joe into my life, I’d been having nightmares in which Roy tried to step in and destroy the happiness I had. While I wouldn’t put the thought past my ex-from-hell, I wasn’t about to court trouble by dwelling on it.
“Honestly? I don’t know. Can’t remember them, so let’s just leave it at that.” I shrugged, then forced myself to climb out from the protection of the thick comforter. “I guess we’d better get moving. The kids will want breakfast and my stomach’s rumbling, too.” Planting a kiss on his forehead, I slipped into a sweatshirt and jeans as he tumbled out of bed. He slapped my butt as he reached for his clothes. I shooed his hand away.
“Scram, fly! I’ll go start the show. Hurry up though, I want you to make me eggs.” Joe cooked up the best scrambled eggs I’d ever tasted. “You want coffee?”
He nodded. “Always, but not that mud you drink. It’s so thick you could stand a spoon in it.”
“Fine then, miss the best part of the day!” With an exaggerated sniff, I stuck my nose in the air and headed for the door, stopping short when I stubbed my toe on the dresser. I gave him an evil glare as he repressed a snicker, and headed downstairs.
After poking through the fridge, I finally decided on cinnamon rolls, fried ham and scrambled eggs, and fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast. As I was taking the rolls out of the package and arranging them on a baking pan, Randa trudged in, rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning, sweetie,” I said, then gave her a longer look. She often spent her evenings out on the roof, sky watching, but it had rained like crazy last night. She looked like she’d been dragged through the wringer. “You didn’t go out in the storm last night, did you?”
She shook her head. “Nah, but I had a weird dream. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was hard to get back to sleep.”
It would seem that nightmares had been the fare for the evening.
“Need any help?” she asked. “Should I start your espresso?”
“You know the way to your mother’s heart, child.” I gave her a quick kiss as she passed by, on her way to the machine that brought me heaven on earth. While she filled the mesh cup with four shots’ worth of ground beans, I tucked the rolls in the oven and sliced up the ham, getting it ready for the skillet. Joe joined us and took over the spatula, scrambling the eggs while I mixed cocoa and Coffee-mate into the black gold that kept me running like a well-tuned machine.
Kip, smelling food, bounced into the kitchen.
“Feed the cats, please, before breakfast,” I said.
He nodded and took off into the pantry, calling Samantha and her three kittens. Our family’s felines were rescues from the animal shelter. The kittens had pretty much grown up, though I had the suspicion that Nigel was in for another spurt. He was on his way to sixteen pounds and counting. Before there were any unexpected blessings, I’d taken them to the vet and had them all fixed. The troop of furbles had wormed their way into our hearts, each one becoming an integral part of our family.
A moment later, Kip returned, looking confused.
“What’s the matter, honey? Are we out of cat food?”
“Nah, but Samantha isn’t by her dish. She’s always there.”
I frowned. Samantha never missed a meal. She looked like a fuzzy round calico bear. Though not as big as her son, she was no slouch in the belly department, with a paunch big enough to make any cat proud.