heart.
She stepped into the watery sunlight and let the quiet peace of the outdoors calm her. Unfortunately, as she moved, she felt her cargo pants sliding down her hips, which reminded her of Carly, which made her want to scream. And she’d never been a screamer.
She wanted to blame Carly, but knew she was fighting a whole lot bigger battle than simply an annoying friend. Former friend, she reminded herself. And dammit all to hell, Carly was right about the clothes and her appearance. In truth, she was almost embarrassed about how she looked. She avoided mirrors—not a huge challenge these days. There was only a small one in her bathroom. But still, she knew she looked bad.
She eyed the grass on the expansive lawn, wondering if she had the strength to deal with the uneven ground. From there her gaze slid to all the daises. They were a cheerful flower and they also annoyed her.
The call of a crane caught her attention. Nature annoyed her, too, with her daisies and birds and—
Her gaze narrowed as she realized there were three or four cranes at the far end of the lawn, by the trees, their clawed feet stepping on the grass as they headed toward something she couldn’t see.
Knowing walking on grass would count as exercise and make Mango happy, she set off to find out what they were doing. The afternoon was relatively warm—nearly the mid-sixties—and being outside was…nice.
She walked slowly, taking her time, being careful not to do anything stupid. When she was only a dozen or so feet from the trees she realized the cranes had their attention on Carly’s daughter. Or at least on the small plate of cookies on the blanket next to her.
The girl was reading, her attention completely caught up in the book. Michelle took a second to study the blond hair, the slight body. She still had trouble believing Carly had a kid, but here was proof.
As she watched, she realized Gabby wasn’t reading at all. That she was tense, her shoulders hunched, her head pulled close to her chest, her breathing rapid. Michelle recognized the symptoms of fear, but it took her a second to find the cause.
The cranes.
Like every other student on the island, Michelle had studied cranes in grade-school science classes. She knew the Puget Sound cranes were on the small side—maybe forty inches tall. They migrated every year, lived in pairs during breeding season and their dove-gray body feathers darkened to an almost blue-gray by the tail.
“Hey,” Michelle said softly, before she could stop herself.
Gabby jumped, then looked up. The cranes hopped back.
“What are you doing here?” the girl demanded.
“I came outside because I couldn’t stand being inside anymore. You ever get like that?”
Gabby studied her. “Maybe.”
Michelle looked toward the chattering cranes. The boldest of the three started toward the cookies again. “When I was about your age, the cranes had it out for me. I spent the whole summer getting pooped on. It was disgusting.”
“Really?”
Michelle nodded. “They’re hard to avoid around here.”
“I know. We have scientists who come and do research on them.”
“Have they figured out how to stop them from pooping?”
Gabby smiled. “No.”
“Figures. They’re probably studying things like population and eggs and stuff.”
The smile widened. “They are. You should talk to Leonard. He knows all about them. You can ask about the poop.”
“There’s a way to start a conversation. ‘Hey, Leonard. About that crane poop.’”
Gabby giggled.
Michelle pointed to the cranes. “Are you afraid of them?” she asked bluntly.
The humor faded. “They always follow me.”
“You have cookies. They want food.”
“Not always. Sometimes I’m just out.”
Michelle glanced at the blanket and thought about sitting down. The problem was she couldn’t figure out how she would manage to get back on her feet. She didn’t think the visual of her crawling back to the inn would help their guests feel more comfortable.
“I read this
She stepped into the watery sunlight and let the quiet peace of the outdoors calm her. Unfortunately, as she moved, she felt her cargo pants sliding down her hips, which reminded her of Carly, which made her want to scream. And she’d never been a screamer.
She wanted to blame Carly, but knew she was fighting a whole lot bigger battle than simply an annoying friend. Former friend, she reminded herself. And dammit all to hell, Carly was right about the clothes and her appearance. In truth, she was almost embarrassed about how she looked. She avoided mirrors—not a huge challenge these days. There was only a small one in her bathroom. But still, she knew she looked bad.
She eyed the grass on the expansive lawn, wondering if she had the strength to deal with the uneven ground. From there her gaze slid to all the daises. They were a cheerful flower and they also annoyed her.
The call of a crane caught her attention. Nature annoyed her, too, with her daisies and birds and—
Her gaze narrowed as she realized there were three or four cranes at the far end of the lawn, by the trees, their clawed feet stepping on the grass as they headed toward something she couldn’t see.
Knowing walking on grass would count as exercise and make Mango happy, she set off to find out what they were doing. The afternoon was relatively warm—nearly the mid-sixties—and being outside was…nice.
She walked slowly, taking her time, being careful not to do anything stupid. When she was only a dozen or so feet from the trees she realized the cranes had their attention on Carly’s daughter. Or at least on the small plate of cookies on the blanket next to her.
The girl was reading, her attention completely caught up in the book. Michelle took a second to study the blond hair, the slight body. She still had trouble believing Carly had a kid, but here was proof.
As she watched, she realized Gabby wasn’t reading at all. That she was tense, her shoulders hunched, her head pulled close to her chest, her breathing rapid. Michelle recognized the symptoms of fear, but it took her a second to find the cause.
The cranes.
Like every other student on the island, Michelle had studied cranes in grade-school science classes. She knew the Puget Sound cranes were on the small side—maybe forty inches tall. They migrated every year, lived in pairs during breeding season and their dove-gray body feathers darkened to an almost blue-gray by the tail.
“Hey,” Michelle said softly, before she could stop herself.
Gabby jumped, then looked up. The cranes hopped back.
“What are you doing here?” the girl demanded.
“I came outside because I couldn’t stand being inside anymore. You ever get like that?”
Gabby studied her. “Maybe.”
Michelle looked toward the chattering cranes. The boldest of the three started toward the cookies again. “When I was about your age, the cranes had it out for me. I spent the whole summer getting pooped on. It was disgusting.”
“Really?”
Michelle nodded. “They’re hard to avoid around here.”
“I know. We have scientists who come and do research on them.”
“Have they figured out how to stop them from pooping?”
Gabby smiled. “No.”
“Figures. They’re probably studying things like population and eggs and stuff.”
The smile widened. “They are. You should talk to Leonard. He knows all about them. You can ask about the poop.”
“There’s a way to start a conversation. ‘Hey, Leonard. About that crane poop.’”
Gabby giggled.
Michelle pointed to the cranes. “Are you afraid of them?” she asked bluntly.
The humor faded. “They always follow me.”
“You have cookies. They want food.”
“Not always. Sometimes I’m just out.”
Michelle glanced at the blanket and thought about sitting down. The problem was she couldn’t figure out how she would manage to get back on her feet. She didn’t think the visual of her crawling back to the inn would help their guests feel more comfortable.
“I read this
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