Almost four years in, and I was still firing on all cylinders 365 days a year. The back pain I’d developed sitting at a desk? Gone.
The constant anxiety headaches caused by artificial deadlines? Gone.
The need to push myself beyond my limits to prove my worth? Sadly not gone.
But I was a work in progress.
Tipping to one side, I scratched Wayne’s ears. He’d disappeared for a while this afternoon, probably to chase bunnies, but he was back for sunset, just like always.
I usually fed him at about this time, so that may have had something to do with it, but I liked to think it was because he enjoyed spending this moment with me.
The days were getting shorter, and the tug of autumn was getting more noticeable. But for right now, I soaked up as many moments of this Vermont summer as I could.
When a rude buzzing sound cut through my reverie, I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and checked the screen.
A notification from my security system.
My body tensed and panic flooded me, making me break into a cold sweat.
Smoke alarm. The cottage.
Aw, fuck. The new tenants.
I took off at a sprint, thankful I’d upgraded the system after Will’s death so that it would call the fire department if the alarm wasn’t disarmed in a certain amount of time.
The quick call was necessary this far outside town.
In the meantime, I’d stashed fire extinguishers in several spots.
Halfway there, Wayne passed me, darting straight for the cottage. He was a hundred and five pounds of heart,loyalty and questionable decision-making in a furry, cuddly package.
I bounded up the porch steps, where Wayne was circling, impatient, and threw the front door open, then followed the smell of smoke.
The alarm was no longer going off. Still, I expected flames. Maybe a small explosion. Or even wildlife. Given this farm’s recent track record of bad luck, I was expecting all three at once.
Instead, I found my tenant, all five foot nothing of her, wielding a fire extinguisher with the kind of intensity usually reserved for hostage situations.
And she was spraying retardant at the brand-new Wolf oven I’d installed.
I stopped just over the threshold, and Wayne slammed into the back of my legs, almost knocking me over.
In the middle of the living area, three kids stared at me like startled deer—one hostile, one curious, and one ready to take off into the woods.
“You done?”
Celine turned, still aiming the fire extinguisher.
I put my hands up in surrender.
She eyed me, her chest heaving, then assessed her kids.
“Nothing’s on fire anymore,” the middle one said.
She had glasses and a ponytail and seemed the friendliest. Which, I supposed, didn’t say much since the older girl was looking at me with contempt and the little boy’s eyes were still wide with panic.
“Mom took care of it.”
“Just the oven?” I scanned the rest of the open area. Theoven was covered with flame retardant, but everything else looked untouched.
