“Woman,” Mochi interrupted, his voice chirping through the room. “Woman in the basement.”
The fork paused inches from my mouth.
“What did you just say?” My voice came out flat.
Mochi ignored me, pecking at his mirror toy again like nothing strange had just come out of his beak. Like I’d imagined it all over again.
I glanced at Tara. She stood at the counter, slicing tomatoes with rhythmic precision.
“Mochi,” I said, turning to face him. “Say that again. The thing about the woman.”
He fluttered his wings inside the cage and looked up at me, blinking his glassy eyes.
“Pretty day,” he said in that robotic singsong tone. “The sun is shining.”
My gaze drifted out the window. The sun really was shining. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds chirped near the garden. Still, something in my chest tightened. I was annoyed, mostly at myself. None of this was his fault.
“You’re right, sweetheart,” I murmured, reaching in to pet him gently on the head. Just one finger, the way he liked it. “The sun is shining, and we’ll have tortellini.”
“Well, we’re out of flour,” Tara said, returning from the pantry. “I’ll finish cutting the tomatoes for the sauce, then head to the grocery store. Homemade tortellini aren’t much without the actual tortellini.”
She turned to her cutting board. The blade clicked softly against the wood.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked, still watching Mochi out of the corner of my eye.
“Thank you, but not really. I’m almost done,” she replied. Tara had her way in the kitchen. Every motion was smooth and practiced.
But grocery stores? That was neutral territory.
“I could always go to the store too,” I offered.
She laughed lightly. “Ah, nonsense. This is your vacation. And I finally feel like I’m actually earning that generous paycheck.” She brushed tomato skins off her apron. “What are you and Daniel up to today?”
“I want to check out more of the coast nearby. There’s a lighthouse with a little museum, and I think they do tours once a—”
“Woman,” Mochi blurted again, louder this time. “Woman in the basement.”
My head snapped toward him.
Then to Tara.
It felt like someone had just announced the world was ending, but no one else seemed fazed. Tara kept slicing tomatoes, steady and calm.
“Has he been saying that a lot?” I asked. “Woman in the basement?” I tried to keep my tone light, casual.
“Oh, God, yes. Over and over. When the two of us are in here alone. He talks more than any bird I’ve ever seen.”
“Woman. In the basement,” Mochi repeated, his voice clear and chipper, like the words were part of a nursery rhyme.
Tara strolled over and handed him a piece of sliced strawberry through the bars. He snatched it up like it was the best thing he’d ever been given. Leaning in close, she smiled at him.
“Mochi, I told you, this is the kitchen. I’m not in the basement.”
“Woman in the kitchen,” he corrected.
A short laugh burst from Tara as she went back to mixing whatever was in her bowl.
“What a smart bird,” she said, grinning. “Smarter than most people I know.”
