Page 41 of Pining for You

“Aw, did the big, bad man frighten you?” I cooed. “He’s so big and scary, isn’t he? But you don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I think you terrorized her when you ran around chasing her with the net,” Marilyn said wryly.

But though Gertrude strutted away a few steps, she didn’t run.

“Hold out your hand.”

When I did, Brad poured feed into my palm. “Hey, Marilyn, did you name that chicken or did it come with that name?”

“That’s the name it came with. I haven’t figured out if it fits yet so I haven’t changed it, but I’m thinking Mrs. Cluckington.”

“Or Princess Lay-A,” I suggested.

Brad’s lips pursed together in another attempt to suppress his laughter. “Right. Now Chloe, hold your hand out, and keep saying her name in that same tone you just used.”

He took a step closer to whisper in my ear, “I remember you using that tone on me last night, so if you’re think to make me pay up for using a tone, turnabout is fair play.”

“As long as you don’t make me dress like a chicken, we’re good.”

We were just putting the last chicken back in the coop when a well-dressed, good-looking woman rounded the house. I stiffened when I recognized one of the hosts of a morning television show from Toronto. She and her co-host, and several other crew members, had openly discussed my husband’s case, and even speculated on my guilt or innocence.

“Hey, Grandma…” The woman stopped when she spied us. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Holly, dear, I’m so happy you made it!” Marilyn rushed over to her granddaughter and gave her a big hug. “Holly hosts the morning show on channel seventy-nine. We’re so proud of her.”

When Marilyn introduced me, Holly held out her hand with a warm, “I’m so happy to meet the people who look after my grandmother.”

Keeping my chin down, I held up my grimy hand. “I’ve been wrangling chickens, so I don’t think you want to shake my hand. But it’s nice to meet you.”

“Holly’s promised to look after the chickens for me this Christmas,” Marilyn said, giving Holly’s arm a squeeze. “You missed some fun, dear. Some of the chickens escaped and we had to round them up. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call Brad or Chloe here and if they can’t help you, they’ll know who to call.”

BRAD

As Holly approached, Chloe had stiffened and wouldn’t meet Holly’s eyes. Six months ago, I might have thought she was shy or starstruck, but now I recognized her gesture as fear, like a deer preparing to bolt.

But fear of what?

“And this is Brad, her boyfriend and the very nice man who takes care of my trees.”

“And your chickens from the sounds of it, Gram,” Holly said, extending her hand to me.

“Nice to meet you, Holly.” I shook her hand, being sure not to apply too much pressure. I grimaced when I saw the state of my fingers—which were grimier than Chloe’s. “Hate to greet and run, Marilyn, but Chloe and I need to get going.”

As expected, Marilyn fussed, offering us tea or coffee and more homemade cookies, but I shook my head. “Sorry, maybe another day.”

I eased us out of the back yard and helped Chloe into her truck. Before I closed the door, I said, “Meet you back at the coach house?”

She nodded. “Okay. Oh, and remind me we need to talk about a party invitation from Malcolm over dinner.”

“Sure. Did you want to go out tonight? Or do you want me to stop off and pick something up?”

She glanced down at her clothes, which, like her hands, were streaked with dirt and chicken feathers. “Eat in tonight, I think.”

Perfect for my plans. “What do you want me to pick up? Fried chicken or pizza?”

Chloe raised her eyebrows at me and grinned. “Can you seriously tell me you could eat chicken now you’ve met chickens with names?”

She had a point. “Pizza then?”

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