“I need to shovel my mother’s walk,” he said. “And the men and I need to make certain the livestock are set for cold weather. It looks like we’re getting an Arctic blast coming through this week. If you think it’s chilly now, wait till Wednesday. Highs are supposed to be in the thirties, lows in the twenties.” He finished his breakfast and stood, placing his napkin on the table. “I guess I should get moving.”
Faron cleared the table. Once he moved in, he offered to help with the housework, and he kept the place spotless. The man had more energy than was good for him, but the truth was, he wouldn’t be happy if he wasn’t working. He’d also offered to help Bran with the farm, but we all knew that might be too close for comfort. We all needed space from each other.
“Okay, I’m off,” I said. “Talk to you later.” I grabbed my keys and purse, shrugged into my good coat and belted it snugly, pulled up the hood, and—after saying goodbye to Fancypants and the cats—headed out.
As I pulled into the parking lot for Bayview Market, I noticed that Hi Jinx—the pot shop to the right of the market—was having a sale. I grinned. They took full advantage of being next door to the grocer. To the left, Carly’s Cat Hospital was open. I took Gem and Silver there when they needed vet care. Carly Wiles was a talented vet with a knack for cats. She was human, but might as well have been a cat shifter, for as much as she connected to the feline world.
I grabbed the reusable grocery bags, slung my purse over my shoulder, and headed inside. As I manned a cart, the smells coming from the deli section were enough to make me hungry again.
The market was fairly empty at this time of the morning. Most of the people in Starlight Hollow seemed to do their marketing after noon, and it was only eleven. Bran always had to get up early due to the animals, so I’d adopted his schedule. Faron was also an early riser.
I strolled through the aisles. Buying groceries was a luxury in that it was mundane. I didn’t have to worry while I was in the store. I wasn’t facing some monster. I wasn’t worried about my loved ones. In that sense, it was an emotional vacation.
I started in the produce aisle, adding bananas and cherries, apples and pears, and assorted veggies, then moved to the staples and dairy. Cheese, of course, and eggs and milk. Noodles and crackers and chips—May made bread for all of us, so we never needed to buy it. I dropped ketchup and mustard into the cart—we still had plenty of mayo. I added cookies, in case May didn’t have time to make any, and other odds and ends.
Finally, I ended up in the meat aisle, where I picked up pork chops, chicken, lunch meat, and game hens. We had beef aplenty in the massive freezer we shared with May. Bran had bought a couple of sides of beef the year before, and we were eating the last of it. He’d fill the freezer again, soon, and this time he intended on adding plenty of pork, lamb, and chickens, so our grocery bill would be that much lighter.
I added several cases of cat food and headed for the cashier. As I steered the cart into line, I heard someone mention my name. I glanced up and froze.
“Well, hello,” a cool, deep voice echoed.
Startled, I turned around to see Kyle—Faron’s brother. He was staring at me as if he might look at a two-headed cat. I hesitated. What the hell was I supposed to say to him? He didn’t like me—the friendship had ended when he found out I was involved with his brother. Then, he had become outright hostile.
I thought about congratulating him, but I foresaw that comment being fraught with potential landmines. “I hope you’re well,” I finally said.
He let out a slow breath. “Well enough,” he said, and his shoulders relaxed. “I…how are…I hope you and yours are also well.” There was an unspoken question there, and I suddenly realized why he had talked to me. And why he was stumbling over his words.
Kyle wanted to hear how his brother was doing. He couldn’t contact Faron, but he probably knew that Faron had moved in with Bran and me. I thought about being an asshole, but tit for tat wasn’t always the right thing to do, and the concern in his eyes deflated my anger.
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “He’s fine. He’s okay, and he’s staying with me.”
Kyle swallowed, hard. After a moment, he nodded. “Take care of yourself, please. And give…Bran…my best.” He held my gaze for a moment. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Relief flooded his face, and he let out a sigh and turned back to his groceries.
I suppressed a smile, not wanting him to think I was laughing at him, and busied myself with my wallet until Kyle was heading out of the store, and it was my turn to check out.
On the way home, I stopped at the Starlight Hollow Women’s Shelter and carried in a couple of bags of groceries I had bought specifically for them. I also brought in six dozen eggs from our chickens. We stopped by every couple of weeks with food and homemade cider during the winter. What we brought varied depending on the time of year, but we had signed up with several other families to help keep the residents at the shelter fed. It took some of the pressure off the organization and ensured that the kids there, as well as their mothers, had enough to eat.
After that, I made a stop at the dry cleaners to pick up a comforter, and at the Starlight Hollow Roastery for several bags of freshly roasted coffee beans. They sold the best coffee around. Bran and I had always agreed on supporting local businesses.
My last stop before heading home was at the Grapevine, one of the local plant nurseries down by the bay. I headed inside, stopping to talk to Tracy, the owner.
“Hey, I’m supposed to pick up an order Bran made last week?” I glanced around. I loved being around growing things. The scent of soil and mist and sprouting plants made my blood stir.
“Right,” Tracy said. She knew us well by now. She motioned to one of the customer service reps. “Order for Bran Anderson. It’s already paid for. Can you load it into Elphyra’s car?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back,” the rep said. He headed toward the back.
“So, how are you?” Tracy asked.
“Good. Looking forward to spring. It’s been a long past six months.” It hit me: I was tired. I was looking forward to spring and to feeling renewed. Right now, I wasn’t unhappy, but I was feeling the toll of everything that had gone on.
We chatted for a few minutes until the clerk returned, carrying a large box filled with various bulbs, seed packets, and growing pots. I led the young man outside, where he deposited the box in the back of my midnight-blue Chevy Equinox. I thanked him and, errands done, headed home.
Along the way, my phone signaled that someone had entered the house. I pulled over to the side of the road and—panicked—opened the camera app. The alarm never sounded when one of us opened the house, because we all knew the code.
I glanced at the cameras, flipping through them, and then saw her. It was May, and as I caught sight of her, she turned off the alarm and pulled out her phone. Within seconds, my phone rang.
“May! What happened?” She knew the code, as well, so I had no idea why she set it off.
