I read the label and notice it says it’s detangling spray for kids. I look at her hair. Back to the bottle. Back to her hair.
I wonder if it will take the entire bottle.
I’m impressed that it takes us just a few minutes to work through her hair that now smells like green apple, according to the bottle, and is brushed out nicely. But then she hands me a hair tie and I begin the panic all over again.
I manage to get her hair up in a ponytail, but I’m not sure that it looks better than it did before we brushed it. It’s messy at best, but at least it will be out of her eyes when we’re running around the farm.
“Okay. Shoes and let’s grab Macaroni. He’s invited, too.”
“Yay! What are we doing?”
“Patience, Squirt.”
“I don’t like that word.”
I bark out a laugh and grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge before loading up Zoey and Macaroni in my truck and heading out to the farm.
On our way, Zoey asks a lot of questions trying to figure out where we’re going but I keep deflecting, wanting it to be a surprise.
When we pull in, though, I’m the one who’s surprised.
“Why are we at Pop’s house?”
“Pop?”
“Uh huh! Pop,” she says, pointing to Richard who’s walking our way holding a kitten in his arms. “Kittens!”
Macaroni wags his tail as if he, too, knows exactly where we are.
Zoey unlatches her seat belt and scrambles out of her seat.
I get out and open her door and she runs over to Richard, tackling him around his legs.
What the heck?
“Hi, baby girl!”
“Pop! I missed you! Did you miss me?”
Miss him? Miss her?
What am I missing?
Richard lowers himself to the ground slowly so Zoey can see the orange kitten he’s holding while talking to Macaroni as if they’re long lost buddies. Thankfully, Macaroni only sniffs at the tiny ball of fluff and barks once then scampers off. Richard’s dog greets Macaroni with butt sniffs and tail wags before they run off to play.
“It’s so cute. Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I think it’s a girl,” he tells her and smiles. His eyes dart up to mine, full of mischief this one.
“Did you name it yet?”
“Sounds like a good job for you. Look how well you named your dog.”
I grunt.
“Cheese! Because she’s orange!”
“See? I knew you’d come up with the perfect name.”
“Can I hold her?”
“Of course you can.”
Carefully she takes it from his hands and cradles it to her chest, cooing and rubbing her face against it.
Richard groans when he stands up.
“I’m getting old, baby girl.”
She’s too busy playing with the kitty to listen to him, though.
“Suppose you got questions. Let’s get a glass of lemonade and sit on the porch.”
“Did you make it your special way?” Zoey asks, not tearing her attention away from Cheese.
Cheese.
What a freaking name.
I would scoff but like usual, Zoey’s being cute and pretty smart to think of naming the orange cat Cheese to go along with Macaroni.
“Of course I did.” He looks up at me and explains, “My late wife always made the best lemonade and lucky for me, she tasked me with helping her make it enough times that I remembered how to make it. Lemonade, lemon-lime soda, and a little bit of orange juice. It’s not complicated but it’s delicious.”
“Sounds like it.”
I follow him to the house and Zoey and I take a seat on the porch at his command while he gathers us drinks. Like he suspected, I have questions but I’m not about to ask Zoey. She wouldn’t have a clue as to why I’m sitting here wondering if I got played and if I did, by who.
I guess one question of mine is answered, though. Now I know why Addy acted the way she did when I brought up the Noosma farmhouse. I found it odd that she seemed to clam up about it, but I didn’t think to ask why.
“Isn’t she perfect, Unca Beau?” Zoey asks, nuzzling the kitty and cuddling up next to me. I wrap an arm around her and pet the little fur ball that’s purring like crazy in its new owner’s arms.
“She is. You like her?”
She shakes her head. “I wuv her. Can I keep her?”
“What if I said we can keep her here?”
“But I don’t wiv here and I need to see her every day!”
“Maybe we can work something out,” I tell her, hoping that whatever Richard’s about