Page 25 of One Hundred Humbugs

“Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was,” Ruby groaned, already knowing the answer.

Becket was on his feet in an instant, moving towards the kitchen with Ruby close behind. They rounded the corner to find Daisy, the pregnant goat, standing triumphantly atop the kitchen table, surrounded by the remains of what had once been one of Uncle Peter’s chairs.

“How did she even get in here?” Ruby exclaimed, torn between exasperation and admiration for the goat’s determination.

Becket glanced at the door, still ajar. “We must not have shut the door all the way when we checked on them this morning. She probably nudged it open … maybe she was looking for a snack.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You think she was after food?”

Becket shrugged. “She’s eating for two… or more.”

As they wrangled Daisy, trying to guide her off the table, a laugh bubbled out of Ruby. It was so ridiculous—here she was, in the middle of a blizzard, chasing a goat through her late uncle’s kitchen. If someone had told her a week ago that this would be her life, she would have called them crazy.

“You know,” Becket said as they finally managed to guide Daisy back towards the garage, “I think she’s getting restless. The storm, the confinement … it can’t be easy for her, especially this far along in her pregnancy.”

Ruby nodded, reaching out to scratch behind Daisy’s ears. “Poor girl. I guess we’re all feeling a bit cooped up, huh?”

As they walked back into the house, Ruby couldn’t ignore Becket’s presence—the way he moved, his laughter, the occasional brush of his arm against hers. It was distracting, to say the least.

Back in the kitchen, they surveyed the scene of Daisy’s latest escapade. The broken chair lay in pieces on the floor, proof of the surprising strength of a determined goat.

“Well,” Ruby sighed, “I guess we know what we’re doing this afternoon.”

They set about cleaning up the mess, working together in comfortable silence. As they worked, Ruby found her mind wandering. She thought about how Becket had become a part of her daily life, how natural it felt to have him around. It was unsettling, in a way. She’d come to Aspen Cove with a clear plan: sell the house, tie up loose ends, and get back to her real life in Chicago. Becket and his goats weren’t part of that plan.

And yet...

“You okay there?” Becket’s voice broke through her reverie. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

Ruby blinked, realizing she’d been staring blankly at a chair leg for who knows how long. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

Becket tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Ruby was tempted to tell him everything. About her plans to sell, about her conflicted feelings, about how he was making her question everything she thought she wanted. “Just wondering how I’m going to explain to the next owners why there are hoof prints on the kitchen table.”

Becket laughed, but Ruby thought she glimpsed something—disappointment? Before she could dwell on it, a gust of wind rattled the windows, reminding them of the storm still raging outside.

“We should check the weather report,” Becket suggested. “See how long this storm’s going to last.”

The news wasn’t good. The blizzard showed no signs of letting up, with forecasts predicting at least another day of heavy snow and high winds.

“Looks like you might be stuck with us for a while longer,” Becket said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “If that’s okay, I mean. We could try to find somewhere else?—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ruby cut him off, surprising herself with the vehemence in her tone. “Of course you’re staying here. Where else would you go in this weather?”

Relief washed over Becket’s face. “Thanks, Ruby.”

As the day wore on, they settled into their usual rhythm. They made regular trips to check on the goats, played a heated game of Scrabble where Becket insisted that “zoink” was a word and Ruby vehemently disagreed, and kept an eye on the ever-worsening storm.

In the afternoon, they decided to tackle some of the clutter in the living room, hoping to clear more space. As they sorted through box after box of Uncle Peter’s eclectic collection, Ruby shared stories she hadn’t thought about in years.

“And this,” she said, holding up a snow globe with a miniature Bigfoot inside, “was from the summer Uncle Peter swore he saw Bigfoot while camping. He came back with a plaster cast of a footprint and everything.”

Becket laughed, his eyes twinkling. “And? Was it real?”

Ruby grinned. “Turned out to be a bear print. But Uncle Peter never admitted it. He kept insisting that Bigfoot just happened to have bear-like feet.”

As they worked, Ruby opened up more and more. She told Becket about her childhood visits to Aspen Cove, her dreams of becoming an artist, and the soul-crushing reality of her corporate job in Chicago. Becket listened attentively, asking questions and sharing his own experiences.

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