And he left me everything he had. Trusted me to carry on his legacy.
Packs are the law of the land here in Crescent Lake, so even though the Pepper name is known here, too, the people never paid us any mind. Jim wasn’t treated differently, and neither was I. The sense of belonging has always been a deep comfort.
I know Uncle Jim felt the same, especially with everything he’d been through. Everything that set his move here in motion.
I don’t want to disturb Nikki, but I have to get up and get some things done around the house, so I rise from the chair with the little black dog in my arms and make my way back downstairs. After placing her gently on one of the dog beds in the living room, I head outside to my SUV to grab my things.
For the rest of the morning and into the evening, I clean the house, wash sheets and blankets in the old washer and dryer, take inventory of what I’ll need to shop for tomorrow at any stores open on Sunday, and play with the dogs and Odin. Dini had been elusive until dinnertime, when she finally came out of whatever hiding spot she’d been camped out in to eat.
There are two freezers and a refrigerator in the garage just to store the homemade food Jim would cook up for the catsand dogs. Shelves are labeled with names and serving sizes, oven-safe glass containers are stacked neatly, both frozen and refrigerated. His recipes are in the kitchen, where he always kept them, and there’s enough raw meat in another freezer to whip up another month’s batch for everyone.
I assume Pie and Gator’s food is stored in the barn, and I have to go and investigate everything out there and get to know where things are. Hopefully, Lloyd’s friend will be able to teach me some things when he arrives, like what the heck I’m supposed to do to care for them.
Love, I have covered in spades. But I’ve never had to feed, exercise, or groom a horse or mini donkey. I hope this guy knows his stuff.
I order delivery through the Foo-D app, and after dinner, the dogs all go out into the fenced backyard to do their business and play. We’re out there for a while until exhaustion overtakes me.
The long drive, the emotional ups and downs from trips down memory lane—all of these things make my mind and body tired.
And there’s a long day ahead tomorrow.
I’d already cleaned up and changed the sheets in the guest room, where I’ve always slept, and that’s where I go upstairs to crash once I change.
The moment I lay down, there’s a miniature stampede of fuzzy bullets rushing up the stairs and then leaping onto the bed with me, each furry friend finding their spot on the mattress, on top of the covers, or under, making me realize fast that I’m going to have to start sleeping in Jim’s room with the bigger bed.
But surrounded by the warm dogs, I can’t help but smile to myself, that is, until Nikki woofs at me, nudging my hand with her snoot.
“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice comes out as exhausted as I feel.
She woofs again and nudges me, and then I hear it. A tiny meow, making my heart skip.
“Odin!”
I roll over with as much care as possible, trying not to dislodge any of my little friends, and peer at the floor beside the bed. That’s where the little guy sits, his blue fuzz-ball toy at his feet, head turning slightly from side to side.
“I’m sorry, little one,” I coo before reaching down to pick him and his comfort toy up and placing them on the pillow beside mine. Odin immediately curls up, his toy by his head.
Nikki settles then, like she’s pleased that I’ve understood her. She buries her snoot under the blankets before burrowing beneath them and curling up at my belly.
The comfort that overtakes me is something I haven’t felt in years. And, as I switch off the bedside lamp, I know this is just another sign that I’ve made the right choice in coming here.
Chapter Two
The next morning is the start of a new routine.
The dogs go out back while I make coffee and prepare everyone’s breakfasts. I make an extra cup of coffee in one of Jim’s disposable “to-go” cups and bring it to Lloyd at the barn, where he’s already fed Pie and Gator. He reminds me that his friend will be by in the afternoon and will take over for him.
I spend a couple of hours taking photos of the property and making more lists on my phone of everything I could find that needs fixing, and the supplies I’d need to get it done. I know there are several people I could pay here in Crescent Lake who would do a good job and whom I can trust, but I’ll move on to that when the time comes.
Priorities.
There’s too much wood rot, from shingles to old decks, to the trailer outside the paddock fencing. When I open the door to the rotting trailer, very carefully, I’m greeted with a mess for the ages. Plastic bins, old furniture, newspapers—it’s like my uncle had been a hoarder and got away with it by keeping his junk separate from his house. Which is strange, because I remember Jim being tidy and always wanting his environment clean.
“What on earth were you doing?” I breathe, brow drawn tight with confusion as the musty smell begins to make my eyes water.
I can’t even get into the trailer if I wanted to. There’s nothing I can do to clean the place up, and I have more important priorities. So, I add “Rent Dumpster” to my To-Do List on my phone.
Back at the house, I let the dogs out back again and head upstairs to Jim’s office to find his financial ledger. I need to know how much of the impending bills I’ll need to foot myself.
