He bought it at a consignment shop in Hingham. Said it was the ugliest sweater they had.”
I bit back a smile. “It must have been truly ugly.”
“It was bright orange with colored shapes all over it that looked like confetti.”
“Yep, that sounds hideous.”
I wanted to ask about Jemima and Mac’s relationship but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Do you think you’ll be able to find him?” Christa seemed more curious than desperate.
Sean picked up the chicken, tossed it. Rufus scaled the leather sofa, slid across the wooden floor, and collided with an end table. A lamp teetered, then fell over with a crash.
“Not again,” Christa mumbled, rushing to pick up the pieces. I went to help.
Rufus grabbed the chicken and brought it back to Sean.
Jemima ran downstairs. “What happened now?”
“It was my fault,” Sean said, holding up the chicken. Rufus took it out of Sean’s hand, brought it over to Jemima, and dropped it on her bare feet.
She shuddered.
“I’ll gladly replace the lamp,” Sean said.
“I thought we threw this thing away?” Jemima held the chicken by one rubber leg. “After the last lamp incident?”
Christa had found a paper bag and was putting chunks of broken porcelain into it. I opened a closet, looking for a broom. Next to the broom was a recycling bin no one had emptied in the last month. Mixed in with empty water bottles, a mayonnaise container, and a plastic strawberry container was a brown prescription bottle. I picked it up. The label had been torn to remove the patient’s name, but the medication and strength remained. I quickly pocketed it.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Jemima said, shaking the chicken. Rufus jumped around, following each jerk of the chicken with an eager eye.
I quickly swept little shards into a pile.
“It won’t happen again,” Christa said. “I promise.”
“You promised the last time, too,” Jemima said. She sighed. “It’s time Rufus found a new home.”
Christa slowly stood up. I paused mid-sweep.
“It was my fault,” Sean said again. “Not Rufus’s.”
Jemima’s eyes flashed. “It’s time you left, too. Your five minutes are long up.”
“Where will Rufus go?” Christa asked in an even tone, as though she’d been preparing for this day a long time now.
“The shelter for now.” Jemima finally dropped the chicken and Rufus pounced on it. “Someone will adopt him.”
I didn’t think twice. “I’ll take him.”
A slow smile spread across Sean’s face.
Christa looked at me, her eyes watery.
Jemima shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She turned toward the stairs. “You can see yourselves out. Be sure to take the rubber chicken. Christa, dinner is ready.”
“But I should get Rufus’s things together. His food…”
“Now,” Jemima said softly.
“You can come visit him,” I whispered. “Whenever you want.”
Christa nodded once, sharply. “His leash is by the door. The chicken one is his favorite—Granddad special-ordered it. His dog bed is in the bedroom, and his brush and comb are in a basket by his bed.” She gave Rufus a big hug and ran upstairs.
Rufus dropped the chicken at Sean’s feet. He picked it up, tossed it, and looked at me. “Grendel’s going to be pissed.”
I cringed at the thought of my cat having a hissy fit. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
* * *
My plan included my grandmother.
“No. No way,” she said, tossing the rubber chicken.
She didn’t mean it. I could tell. “But just look at those eyes.”
“What do you think this is? A halfway house?”
“Hey!” Em cried. She was searching Dovie’s fridge for something to eat.
“No offense,” Dovie said to her. She made kissing noises in Em’s direction.
Emerson Baumbach, one of my two best friends, had been living here since breaking off her engagement and moving out of the condo she shared with her ex shortly before Christmas. She would have moved home to her parents’ house, just down the road,
I bit back a smile. “It must have been truly ugly.”
“It was bright orange with colored shapes all over it that looked like confetti.”
“Yep, that sounds hideous.”
I wanted to ask about Jemima and Mac’s relationship but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Do you think you’ll be able to find him?” Christa seemed more curious than desperate.
Sean picked up the chicken, tossed it. Rufus scaled the leather sofa, slid across the wooden floor, and collided with an end table. A lamp teetered, then fell over with a crash.
“Not again,” Christa mumbled, rushing to pick up the pieces. I went to help.
Rufus grabbed the chicken and brought it back to Sean.
Jemima ran downstairs. “What happened now?”
“It was my fault,” Sean said, holding up the chicken. Rufus took it out of Sean’s hand, brought it over to Jemima, and dropped it on her bare feet.
She shuddered.
“I’ll gladly replace the lamp,” Sean said.
“I thought we threw this thing away?” Jemima held the chicken by one rubber leg. “After the last lamp incident?”
Christa had found a paper bag and was putting chunks of broken porcelain into it. I opened a closet, looking for a broom. Next to the broom was a recycling bin no one had emptied in the last month. Mixed in with empty water bottles, a mayonnaise container, and a plastic strawberry container was a brown prescription bottle. I picked it up. The label had been torn to remove the patient’s name, but the medication and strength remained. I quickly pocketed it.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Jemima said, shaking the chicken. Rufus jumped around, following each jerk of the chicken with an eager eye.
I quickly swept little shards into a pile.
“It won’t happen again,” Christa said. “I promise.”
“You promised the last time, too,” Jemima said. She sighed. “It’s time Rufus found a new home.”
Christa slowly stood up. I paused mid-sweep.
“It was my fault,” Sean said again. “Not Rufus’s.”
Jemima’s eyes flashed. “It’s time you left, too. Your five minutes are long up.”
“Where will Rufus go?” Christa asked in an even tone, as though she’d been preparing for this day a long time now.
“The shelter for now.” Jemima finally dropped the chicken and Rufus pounced on it. “Someone will adopt him.”
I didn’t think twice. “I’ll take him.”
A slow smile spread across Sean’s face.
Christa looked at me, her eyes watery.
Jemima shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She turned toward the stairs. “You can see yourselves out. Be sure to take the rubber chicken. Christa, dinner is ready.”
“But I should get Rufus’s things together. His food…”
“Now,” Jemima said softly.
“You can come visit him,” I whispered. “Whenever you want.”
Christa nodded once, sharply. “His leash is by the door. The chicken one is his favorite—Granddad special-ordered it. His dog bed is in the bedroom, and his brush and comb are in a basket by his bed.” She gave Rufus a big hug and ran upstairs.
Rufus dropped the chicken at Sean’s feet. He picked it up, tossed it, and looked at me. “Grendel’s going to be pissed.”
I cringed at the thought of my cat having a hissy fit. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
* * *
My plan included my grandmother.
“No. No way,” she said, tossing the rubber chicken.
She didn’t mean it. I could tell. “But just look at those eyes.”
“What do you think this is? A halfway house?”
“Hey!” Em cried. She was searching Dovie’s fridge for something to eat.
“No offense,” Dovie said to her. She made kissing noises in Em’s direction.
Emerson Baumbach, one of my two best friends, had been living here since breaking off her engagement and moving out of the condo she shared with her ex shortly before Christmas. She would have moved home to her parents’ house, just down the road,
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