Unknown:Be there this weekend.
Me:Or be square.
I chuckle to myself, drawing Arlo’s attention.
“What’s so funny?” I look up as he questions me, but he doesn’t once glance at my phone, so I adjust my screen for him to see.
“Spam texts.”
His heavy brows lower, and he reaches for my phone, a slight question in his gaze. “May I?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Birdie.” His finger slides up, his frown deepening the more he reads. “How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know, a few weeks?” I think back to the first text I got but realize that isn’t entirely true. I had a few on the drive up that I had Lark answer with the same snark.
“I don’t think these are spam texts.” His lips move as he memorizes the number, pulls out his own phone, and shoots it off to Kenzie. “I’ll have the master check it out.”
I shrug because it’s not that big of a deal to me. “What makes Kenzie the master?”
“You’re kidding, right?” He chuckles, drawing the attention of a few parents who give us that look. The one that screams we’ve been up to no good, but we are, in fact, behaving. At least in my eyes, we are behaving.
“I’m serious, isn’t she like the mayor?”
“Don’t say it too loudly,” Arlo hisses. “She isn’t the mayor, Ernie is, but Kenzie is his assistant. An overqualified, over-educated assistant that belongs in the FBI.” He shakes his head. “I swear she can find nearly anyone, so I have no doubt that she will—” His phone chirps. “See?”
“Okay, but I don’t think she’ll get far with a spam number.”
“Huh.” He grunts.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who is it?”
“It’s a burner phone.” He points at me like I stole his cookies, which I might have. Saffron made these mint chocolate chip cookies that were so good. I think I ate a dozen before my stomach threatened to puke them all up. “I still don’t think you should interact, you should block the number.”
I snatch my phone back, scrolling through all my clearly well thought out one-liners. “If it bothers you that much…” I hedge, not seeing the big issue here.
“Look, I won’t tell you what to do, Birdie, but I think you should be careful.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, melting me into a puddle on the floor.
I tuck my phone into my pocket as he walks away to join his sister, while my obnoxious brother comes over, pulling up his turkey head.
“Ready?” he asks as sweat pours off his forehead.
I clap my hands, leading the turkey out of the library. “Okay, kiddos, say bye to Mr. Thanksgiving! I’m going to walk him home to the forest!” True, I’m actually going to walk him around the building first, where he can shed the costume.
I hold open the door for him as we pass in front of the windows where little noses press against the glass, smearing boogers and who knows what else.
“Keep walking, or I’ll fry you,” I threaten.
“Harsh,” comes his mumbled reply. Finally, we get around to the side of the building, and he chucks the head into the grass. “Get me out of this thing.”
“You’re the one who wanted in there.” I grab the head, my attempt at being helpful, and skip across the street.
“Wrong way,” Robin mutters, pointing toward the other street where the creek sits behind little cottages. “Look at that one.” He points to a little white house with bright teal shutters, everything freshly pressure washed and painted.
“Oh!” I gasp. I look over there from time to time, but I never actually focused on the little homes. I didn’t want to dream too much about settling down.
“Yep,” he replies, waddling across the street in his costume. He nearly falls over, retrieving a key from under a fake rock.
