That’s got my attention. “The turkeys?”
He grimaces. “Oh yes. There’s a whole flock—more like a gang, honestly—and when they come through downtown, we all take cover.”
“I thought I’d have to worry about bears.”
“Bears?” He waves a hand. “They’re lovable little scamps by comparison. It’s the turkeys you will learn to fear. Seriously, though, any questions, just let me know. We have lists of restaurants, maps, all that sort of thing. Are you thinking about staying a little longer?”
“Oh, I won’t be staying,” I say. “Saw the lawyer, signed the papers, tossed my grandmother’s ashes. Tomorrow I talk to the bank, and then I think I’m out of here.”
Another grimace, which does not bode well. “Then you must be Maggie’s granddaughter. It’s a small town, and her death surprised us all—hers and Diana’s. Maggie always seemed so much younger than she was, you know? A real free spirit. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I feel the tiniest stab of jealousy that all these strangers knew my grandmother when she was still around. I never got that chance. Maybe she was nicer before she was a small, angry bird. Colonel had said that she wasn’t necessarily well-liked, but that doesn’t seem to be the case for Nick.
“I never knew her,” I tell him. “Were y’all friends?”
“She was on the Chamber of Commerce. Fiercely loved Arcadia Falls. And she took good care of poor ol’ Abraham. He never got married, never had kids, outlived his whole family, but she made sure he had what he needed. Maggie was a bit much for some people, but she was always nice to Nathan and me.”
I refuse to feel guilty for locking my grandmother in her own apartment. I’m sure Nick has fond feelings for Maggie, but he doesn’t know the whole story. People often put on a mask in public that they quickly drop around family. My mom had good reason to hate my grandmother, and I should’ve given that more thought before I dumped my entire life and came here.
I can’t move back home, not without breaking the Billingses’lease and crushing their dreams. Maybe I can move to a beach bungalow for a year or rent a little trailer and visit all the national parks.
Except—I’d have to bring a judgmental, know-it-all parrot with me, wouldn’t I?
I’m now morally obligated to drag my grandmother with me wherever I go until she’s lived a full life as a rose-breasted cockatoo, which could be…
Sigh.
Sixty more years.
Nick is smiling the benign and practiced smile of a service worker who has other things to do, so I thank him and wish him a good night before heading up to my room.
The amount of pink in the Dogwood Room is not what I would call tasteful, but at least it’s more blushing rose than Pepto-Bismol or electric flamingo. Maggie could actually use this room as camouflage, but I’m glad for a little quiet.
I wolf down the rest of my fast food hunched over the elegant desk while watching a competitive cooking show on my laptop, glad that the Wi-Fi, at least, is indeed functional. Then I draw a bath in the big tub, grab my book, and sink into the rose-perfumed water, courtesy of a sachet of Epsom salts left thoughtfully for my use.
The tub in my house back home is one of those small 1970s things, and I can’t squeeze in there without at least half my body outside of the water. This tub—like the one in Maggie’s apartment—is deep and perfectly curved for lying back while reading, and I sigh as I settle into the heat and try to disappear into someone else’s story. Usually, I use books as an escape because my life is so boring, so lacking in any kind of excitement orpassion. Now I need something to take my mind off all the ways today has gone wrong and all the annoying work I’ll have to do to make my life boring again.
All I inherited was a big ol’ pain in the ass.
Tomorrow, I’m getting the hell out of Arcadia Falls.
10.
I’ll say thisfor Nick and Nathan—they sure know how to run a B&B. The bed is like a cloud, the linens are somehow crisp and soft at the same time, and the pillow is like the world’s biggest marshmallow. I would say I sleep like the dead, but the only person I know who’s currently dead is in the body of a cockatoo, so she’s probably sleeping upright on one foot.
When I go down to breakfast at eight, I find a muscular Black man with immaculate facial hair placing a basket of biscuits on the sideboard.
“You must be Rhea,” he says, looking up with a smile.
“And you must be my new favorite person, because this smells amazing. Nathan, right?”
He inclines his head. “The one and only. Now, what can I get you from the coffee bar?”
“Anything with caffeine is fine.”
“Don’t do that to me. Please. Demand something complicated and frothy.”
“He needs a challenge,” Nick says as he exits the kitchen holding an insulated tumbler.
