jumped to her feet as soon as the thunder stopped. “I didn’t think you were going to try to fry our house. Or us.”
I groaned as I tried to stand up straight. “I think I pulled a stitch.”
“It serves you right. Get inside. No more goofing around.” She marched me into the house, stepping around Mr. Rumblebutt, who was eyeing us both with a bright gleam in his eye that told me the thunder had scared him spitless.
“Now I feel bad,” I said, wincing as I dropped my bag on the foyer table and hurried to the sofa, where I stripped off my jacket. “Mr. R., come here, boy.”
He glared at me as though he knew I’d been the one to coax the lightning down, but finally jumped up on the sofa and mewed pathetically at me.
“I’m so sorry, little man. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
He allowed me to scritch his chin and then flopped on his side, rolling onto his back so I could pet his belly. I ruffled the fur, then leaned back, trying to decide if I needed to check my bandages. But Angel made up my mind for me.
“Get into the bathroom. I’ll come look at your stitches.” She pushed and prodded me to my feet and marched me into the downstairs bathroom, where I cautiously removed my dress. She carefully removed the bandages and grumbled, pulling out the salve and a fresh bandage.
“You ripped one stitch, but the others look intact. You’re oozing just a bit, but the wound is healing quickly and I don’t think you need to go back to the doctor. Let me put a new bandage on it for you.”
“Thanks.” I still felt awful for scaring both her and Mr. R. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if I could make the lightning fork across the sky. I didn’t mean…”
“Yeah, well, you could have shishkabob’ed us. And I, for one, am not ready to ride the lightning.” She finished taping the new bandage in place. “I suppose you’re going to want something to serve Sharne when he gets here.”
I shook my head. “I’m not about to ask you to cook anything after that. Seriously, we can serve him chips and soda if that’s what we have.” I was feeling guiltier by the minute.
“I was going to make dinner anyway. I’m hungry, even after the lunch that Herne bought for us. What did you want to eat?”
I shook my head. “Just a snack will do.”
“I know you better than that. How about tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and salad? And I have some frozen cookie dough left over from the last time I made cookies. I can bake up a couple batches for Sharne’s visit.”
“That sounds great,” I said, staring at the floor, adding—as a peace offering, “I’ll clean up after dinner.”
“Oh, yes you will. Go on, why don’t you change clothes while I make dinner? And straighten up the living room? I thought I saw a bowl of popcorn from a few nights ago still sitting out there.” As she headed into the kitchen, I took the stairs, pleased to find that even though my side ached, the outright pain was mostly gone.
By seven-thirty, I had cleaned the living room and Angel and I had finished dinner. Sharne was due in half an hour, and I looked around, trying to figure out what else to do before he got there. I felt slightly agitated—which could easily be due to the proximity of the lightning. I ducked into the hall bathroom and gave it a quick going-over, washing the counter and cleaning the toilet, then washing my hands and checking my makeup as the doorbell rang.
As I opened the door, Sharne’s appearance took me aback, as always. He looked a lot like me in coloring and stature, but he also looked a hell of a lot like his brother—my grandfather. And Farthing was a memory I could do without.
“Ember,” Sharne said, holding out a bouquet of roses. “For you and Angel. I know how much you love flowers.”
“Thank you,” I said as I handed them to Angel, who went to find a vase. I escorted Sharne into the living room. We sat on the sofa, and when Angel returned, she was carrying a tray with the freshly baked cookies and three glasses of iced lemonade.
“Oh that looks delicious,” Sharne said, accepting a glass. He leaned back, then gave me a long look and let out a sigh. “So…”