No Sunshine When She's Gone by Kate Angell Page A

mimics what she hears.”
    “I’m a smarty pants,” said Olive.
    “That she is,” Shaye agreed. “Don’t say anything around her that you wouldn’t want repeated. I swear she can hear through walls.”
    “Time for a quickie,” came from Olive.
    Shaye’s cheeks pinkened. “Enough said.”
    Jill couldn’t help but grin. If Olive could be believed, then Trace and Shaye had gotten busy before they’d arrived. The parrot liked to gossip.
    Olive cocked her head and asked, “Who you?”
    Jill stood before the cage. “I’m Jill,” she said.
    “Carrie.” Her friend joined her.
    “Olive is good with faces,” Shaye said. “She’ll remember your names. She recognizes every family member and most of our friends.”
    “Like Aidan best.”
    Shaye laughed. “My brother spoils her.”
    “He loves me.”
    Shaye nodded. “That he does. His work takes him out of town, but when he’s home, he spends a lot of time with her.”
    “Gifts, gifts!”
    “Aidan always brings her a special present,” Shaye explained. “Olive gets all fluttery and excited. She screeches when she sees him.”
    Jill took it all in. She and Olive had something in common. Aidan made her heart beat faster, too. She looked forward to seeing him again. Under better circumstances.
    The Quaker gave a long-suffering sigh. “Olive hungry.” She sounded pitiful, as if she were starving.
    Shaye tapped the tin food bowl hooked on one side of the cage. “You have sunflower seeds,” she said.
    Olive blew raspberries. “Orange, please.”
    “Nice manners,” said Shaye.
    “Thank you.”
    “Hope you don’t mind,” Shaye said to her guests as she rolled back one corner of the Saran Wrap on the glass bowl. Oranges made up a layer of the salad and she selected a small piece. She slid the fruit between the bars.
    “Juicy.” Olive took the orange in her beak and made a sucking sound.
    Jill couldn’t help but grin. “She sounds human.” Shaye smiled, too. “She can throw her voice, and often sounds like me. Trace has sworn I was in the house when I wasn’t even home. Olive is that good.”
    To prove her talent, the parrot finished her bite of orange and said, “Love you, babe,” sounding just like Shaye.
    “Love you, too,” said Shaye before continuing down the hallway. Jill and Carrie followed her.
    A wall of sliding-glass doors opened onto a wide gray slate patio. Shaye drew back one of the sliders and waved to the tall, dark-haired man attending an enormous outdoor kitchen. Jill had never seen anything like it. She stood and stared, awed by the sight.
    Shaped in a horseshoe, a commercial stainless steel grill with access doors anchored the male cooking realm. A double burner and storage and warming drawers spread to the left, and a beverage area with an outdoor refrigerator, ice machine, and sink and faucet curved to the right. It was a man’s grilling heaven.
    “Trace,” Shaye called to her husband, who wore a white chef’s apron over his blue short-sleeve button-down and navy slacks. “Come and meet Jillian Mac and Carrie Waters.”
    Trace added more charcoal to the grill, then approached them. After shaking their hands, he put his arm around his wife and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head, then commented on the glass bowl she was holding. “Nice salad. It will go great with the chicken and ribs.”
    “Tonight is informal,” Shaye said as she slipped from her husband’s side and crossed to the refrigerator. She opened the door and set the salad on the top shelf. “Select something to drink,” she encouraged. “There are pitchers of peach iced tea and pink lemonade, soft drinks, and beer. Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink. Help yourself.”
    Jill looked to Carrie. “Iced tea?” She knew her friend’s preference. When Carrie nodded, Jill went to get their drinks.
    She was bent over, her back to the group, when a deep male voice cut through the twilight, followed by heavy footsteps. “Sweet sister, I