Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
“What’s going on, Magpie?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“You sighed twice. Out with it.”
“Well, there is this boy—” My father's brows rise all the way up. I bet that was the last thing he was expecting me to come out with.
“Don’t tell me his name is Owen Caddel. The man a group of federal agents showed up in our house to talk about.”
“You always say don’t trust the feds. So Owen Caddel must be good.”
“Not what I really meant.” He runs a hand down his face. “I thought I got lucky. That I wasn’t going to have to deal with teen crushes.”
“Hey, I’m not a teen, and this isn’t a crush!”
“I know, Magpie. You’re a lot like your mom.”
“What does that mean in relation to this?” He always says that.
“Your mom could be obsessive. She was about me.” He smirks. “I lost her, and I still won’t betray her. I’m hers. Always have been and always will be.”
“That sounds nice. Sweet even.”
I want that. I’ll make sure I get it, too. Maggie Caddel has a nice ring to it.
16
OWEN
The squirrel darts out of the cage and into the thick brush on the side of the road.
I grab the empty trap and swing it into the back of my truck, then head back to the driver’s seat. As I get in, I see the glint of a car far off down the farm road.
The coffee I made with the new machine Maggie got me is still warm as I take a gulp of it, savoring the sweet and the bitter all mixed together. It’s good, far better than what the coffee shop makes. I think the fact that it came from the machine Maggie gave me makes it even better somehow.
I start the truck and roll away, giving a two-finger salute to the squirrel, who’s now free to gnaw on someone else’s wires for a change.
“Maybe he’ll meet a nice lady squirrel and settle down.” I glance at Alfie. He’s snoozing in the sunny front window. He’s loved riding in the car from day one, though it makes no sense. I’ve never heard of another cat who enjoys car rides. “I think I’ve already met a nice lady. What do you think about the two of us old bachelors settling down? Maggie is more than we deserve. She’s so … different. Quirky. Fun.” I already miss her, and she was at my place just this morning. It doesn’t make sense–I just met her, but I already feel like a piece of me is missing when she isn’t close.
The car that had been coming down the farm road seems to have vanished, because it never rides past, and there’s nowhere to turn off out this way. Odd.
I keep driving back through town, then stop at the hardware store for a few things. “I brought the harness if you want to come in,” I ask Alfie.
He stretches and crosses his paws over his nose, going right back to sleep. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I leave the windows cracked, a nice spring breeze blowing through, and walk into the store.
“Hi, Owen.” Claire waves from behind the counter. She’s always friendly when I drop by, and it’s nice that she’s learned the customers’ names.
“Afternoon.” I stride down the aisles and stop in front of the chicken supplies. I have a particularly broody hen that isn’t producing eggs. I thought I might get her some of the decoy kind to sit on so she feels better. That also means I’ll be able to snag the eggs she and others lay without her trying to peck my face off.
I want to introduce Maggie to all the hens, but if Roberta goes after her because she’s in her broody mood, then Roberta will end up on the dinner table. There’s no way I’d let her peck my Maggie. This should prevent that from happening. Maggie should feel at home on my property, especially with the animals there. I think her showing up this morning is a good indicator that she’s comfortable around me. I smile without even thinking about it. It’s her–she just gives me this good feeling. Like everything is falling into place. I’m usually wary, especially when it comes to strangers. But Maggie is anything but. I feel like I’ve known her all my life.
The front doorbell tinkles as another customer walks in, and I grab a box of the fake eggs, then look at a few of the other supplies. Hens are a needy bunch, but the fresh eggs are worth it. Maggie seemed to particularly like them, so I want to keep them coming.
“Broody hen?” Claire sidles up to me.
“Yes. Roberta’s been a little ornery. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to get some hatching eggs.”
“Brandon said he’ll have some available next week if you need them. And he has chicks, too, like usual.” She looks up at me, smiling.