whatever else people needed sheds for.
There was a small, black, wrought iron table and two chairs in the middle of the garden, which also had climbing vines and rosebushes on three sides. There was a small plot that would be perfect for herbs and tomatoes, maybe a salsa garden, and it was all tucked away and impossible to see from anywhere outside the house; the fence was that high.
You could sit out there enjoying nature or wondering why tomatoes all ripened on the same hour of the same day, and no one would know what you were doing. You could be by yourself or have company. You could relax in the backyard while a great big wolf rested at your feet, and you’d fix it lamb kebabs. You could grill or just enjoy sickeningly sweet margaritas or flip through a cookbook you’d never use or stream one of the Scream movies or all of the above, and they’d have to look so hard to find you. And they wouldn’t know you were in there minding your own business, you and your wolf friend, unless you wanted them to.
Even better, the landlord straight-up told her that if she liked the place well enough, he’d be amenable to selling. So that was that. Lease, signed. Check, cashed. Boxes, unloaded. Smoke detectors, installed, checked, checked again. Weird bear cub (werecub?) rescued. Cops blissfully unaware of what transpired. Intruder dealt with.
Intruder with merry green eyes and swimmer shoulders dealt with.
And now she was back. But she’d take precautions. Well. More precautions.
Home again, home again, jiggity—yeah, she’d never understood that one. Home again, then. Best to keep it simple.
* * *
1. What? Lots of people collect cookbooks they never use to cook with. It’s not weird. Shut up!
Chapter 6
She was she was she was here! Here in this old house that smelled like dust and
(lemons)
something sharp, something that would hurt his eyes and nose if he ate it and if she was here and he was here then she was safe but the other, the other
(cub)
girl, she was out in the world, out of his territory, but maybe maybe she would come to the house of dust and sharp smells and by now he’d prowled around twice and there weren’t any predators
(there’s me)
and the cub might come and then they would both be safe he would keep them safe and then his own cubs would come and he could make everyone safe not like not like
(the time Before)
when he was a cub, not like when he was small so that was that was good she was good and the cub was good and he would keep everyone safe and no one would be hurt and no one would die and leave him leave him alone.
“Boy! Get gone! I might not be able to see you, but I can smell you.”
(Mama Mac oh hooray!!!!)
(oh shit)
He jumped so high all four paws left the ground and he was grown he was a big wolf now and not a cub but he still wanted to run to Mama Mac and run away from Mama Mac because that yell meant trouble and he had to fall back had to slink from sight and smell and it was good because Mama Mac would keep her safe inside and he would keep her safe outside and maybe the cub would come and that was good it was all good it was very very very very good.
* * *
Lila hadn’t been back five minutes when the old-fashioned doorbell rang. It was really old-fashioned, the kind where you wound the button like a clock instead of pressing it, and instead of a charming ding-dong you got a loud metallic rasp that sounded like the house was giving you a raspberry: bbbbrrrrraaattttttttt!
“Let the madness commence,” she announced. Or would it recommence? Was that a word? Also, who masterminded the whole “let’s make doorbells sound harsh and rude” plan?
Bbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaatttttttt!
“Jeez, give me thirty seconds to get to the door.” And on swinging it open (even on hinges, the front door was heavy): “Huh.”
A tiny woman in purple was beaming at her. She could have been anywhere from her late forties to her early sixties; her face was mostly unlined (save for the network of laugh lines) but her hair was white, she looked delicate but had a firm grip, she had dark brown skin but light blue eyes. Her jeans were dirty at the knees, but her sweater was spotless. She’d chewed off her