California Schemin' - Kate George [80]
“No hard feelings?” she asked.
“God, no,” I said. “You saved my skin. Come visit Vermont sometime. You could let your hair grow out to its natural color for a while, rediscover the real you.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I’m not sure you want to see an alien shape shifter’s natural color. It’s a little startling to see a woman with transparent hair.”
Beau decided getting home was the key thing, and he sprang for first class tickets, the only seats that were available to us at short notice. I couldn’t help but wonder how much influence the painkillers had had on that decision, but I wasn’t complaining. I was more than ready to go home.
The trip was uneventful. Fogel had taken care of the ID problem, and we flew from Sacramento to Manchester, New Hampshire, not nonstop, but at least we didn’t have to change planes. Tom and Meg were at the airport without their kids for a change. Meg told me later that they weren’t sure what kind of shape we would be in and didn’t want to alarm the younger kids. Not that it mattered to me. I slept through both car rides and the flight.
My homecoming was all I expected it to be. The beagle, boxer, lab cross and Irish wolfhound all tried to get into my lap at once. The Chihuahua completely ignored me and sat behind the cat, who hissed at me and unsheathed her claws.
“All right, Annabelle, I know you’re mad at me for leaving you again, but it wasn’t my choice, believe me. As for you, you little jumping bean,” I picked up Beans and held him up to my face. He growled at me. “Listen, you aren’t even really my responsibility. Quit with the tough dog act. I’ll take you to Beau’s house tomorrow.”
Only Lucky treated me normally. When I’d settled in and made my way out to see how everything in the barn was doing, he looked up from his hay, snorted and went back to eating. He seemed to enjoy the rubdown I gave him and puffed his breath onto my neck, but it was more like a “nice to have you back” versus the “Oh my God where have you been” I got from the dogs or the “I’m never going to forgive you” that Annabelle greeted me with.
I walked through the side yard around to where the chicken house stood. Counting the chickens was a homecoming ritual for me. My chickens were pretty good at self-preservation, but you never knew when a fox or coyote would sneak in and grab one. My chickens were a constant source of vexation for me. I loved them, they made me laugh, and like all my animals, I was insanely attached to them. The problem was that I kept chickens partially because I liked having fresh eggs. I have twenty-eight chickens, but lately I’m lucky to find even one egg a day.
The phone was ringing when I woke the next morning. I figured I’d be answering a lot of calls until the news of where I’d been got around, and life went back to normal.
“Hey, MacGowan! Get your butt down here. You slept all the way home, and I want to hear all about what happened.” It was Meg.
“I’ll be down in a little bit. I desperately need a shower, and then I need to drop Beanie off at Beau's. Give me an hour.”
I drove into Meg’s drive almost an hour to the minute after I hung up the phone. Beans was still in my lap, as when I got to Beau’s he wasn’t there. Not knowing when Beau would be home, I didn’t leave the little guy. He was still young, and I didn’t trust him not to pee on the rug, the bed, the couch or the chair. Besides, he wasn’t used to going solo.
I carried Beans through the flying snow to the back door. Meg’s dogs surged around me as I stepped into the mudroom, and I put Beans on the floor. Beans was used to Meg’s house and ran off through the kitchen with a pack of dogs in tow. I kicked off my boots, hung my jacket on a peg and made my way through the remaining dogs into the kitchen.
“Wow! My God, Meg, how did you do that?” The sheet rock we’d started to hang before my absence from the project had been covered with beautiful bronze tiles that were embossed in patterns. The new ceiling gave height and light to the kitchen, creating the illusion of a bigger room. Meg was at the sink, rinsing