out with the rest of the flock,” I advised. “All she wants is to be doing her job.”
“I know. That’s what she keeps saying. But I’m half afraid she’ll try to run into town and herd the other sheep home. She’s very stubborn about some things.”
Sonny had been known to give her animals too much credit, but in Mystery’s case I wasn’t so quick to dismiss her concerns. Sonny had come to own Mystery in the first place because Mystery had recognized Sonny’s newly-purchased flock of sheep as the one she had used to herd.
I said, changing the subject, “Did you know Miles Young has a Wikipedia entry?”
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. He used to own that hockey team, you know.”
“I do now.” My voice sounded a little morose. “He showed up here last night. With his daughter.” I waited to see if that would surprise her, but she said nothing. “He didn’t have any heat in his house. I let them stay over.”
“That was nice of you.” She was carefully neutral on the subject of Miles Young, as well she should be. She was the lawyer for the citizen’s action group—of which I was a member—that was aligned against him and his development project. She also knew that my relationship with the opposition, namely Miles, had gotten complicated over the past couple of months, and on that subject she generally did more listening than talking.
“Not really,” I said, clicking another page. “I was kind of cranky about it.”
I thought she smothered a chuckle. “Listen, Raine, what I called about was to tell you that I’m going to have to bow out of Christmas dinner with your aunt. I’ll call her this afternoon and apologize. My sister cancelled her trip to Europe so I’ll be going to Charleston to spend the holidays with her after all. I may even stay through January. She has a guest house so I can bring the dogs, and Winston Jones and his wife said they could house-sit and look after the farm animals.”
“Wow. Sounds great.” I hoped my words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt. I had counted on Sonny at the Christmas table to take some of the awkwardness away from my first Christmas without Buck. Though Buck and I had been estranged for several years, off and on, and had even been briefly divorced once before, we had always put aside our differences for occasions like weddings, funerals and Christmas. I knew my aunt and uncle would miss him too, but with company present I had hoped they wouldn’t talk about it.
“We’ll miss you at Christmas,” I added quickly, because I was afraid she would start to sense my disappointment. “But I’m glad you’re going to get to be with your family. Let me know what you decide to do about January, and you know if you need anyone to check on things while you’re gone, I have four- wheel drive.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, and I disconnected, still browsing web pages then started punching out the numbers for the sheriff’s office. It was eight forty-five and I was still in my pajamas, still drinking coffee, still fooling around on the computer and still not accomplishing much at all. I felt a stirring of guilt that I quickly squelched. I used to be much more ambitious. Since we had closed down the kennel—okay, since the divorce, if I’m completely honest—I hadn’t been quite as energetic as I used to be. The dogs’ training programs had suffered, and I’d put on a pound or two as a result—neither one of which would serve me well come spring when the competitive agility season began. I kept promising myself I was going to get back on track, but somehow never found the motivation. Maybe after Christmas.
The phone had just started to ring when I heard happy scrambling dog paws bounding into the room and a petulant voice demanded, “Where is my iPad?”
I quickly shut down the web page, disconnected, and spun around. Mischief, Magic and Cisco were happily
“I know. That’s what she keeps saying. But I’m half afraid she’ll try to run into town and herd the other sheep home. She’s very stubborn about some things.”
Sonny had been known to give her animals too much credit, but in Mystery’s case I wasn’t so quick to dismiss her concerns. Sonny had come to own Mystery in the first place because Mystery had recognized Sonny’s newly-purchased flock of sheep as the one she had used to herd.
I said, changing the subject, “Did you know Miles Young has a Wikipedia entry?”
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. He used to own that hockey team, you know.”
“I do now.” My voice sounded a little morose. “He showed up here last night. With his daughter.” I waited to see if that would surprise her, but she said nothing. “He didn’t have any heat in his house. I let them stay over.”
“That was nice of you.” She was carefully neutral on the subject of Miles Young, as well she should be. She was the lawyer for the citizen’s action group—of which I was a member—that was aligned against him and his development project. She also knew that my relationship with the opposition, namely Miles, had gotten complicated over the past couple of months, and on that subject she generally did more listening than talking.
“Not really,” I said, clicking another page. “I was kind of cranky about it.”
I thought she smothered a chuckle. “Listen, Raine, what I called about was to tell you that I’m going to have to bow out of Christmas dinner with your aunt. I’ll call her this afternoon and apologize. My sister cancelled her trip to Europe so I’ll be going to Charleston to spend the holidays with her after all. I may even stay through January. She has a guest house so I can bring the dogs, and Winston Jones and his wife said they could house-sit and look after the farm animals.”
“Wow. Sounds great.” I hoped my words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt. I had counted on Sonny at the Christmas table to take some of the awkwardness away from my first Christmas without Buck. Though Buck and I had been estranged for several years, off and on, and had even been briefly divorced once before, we had always put aside our differences for occasions like weddings, funerals and Christmas. I knew my aunt and uncle would miss him too, but with company present I had hoped they wouldn’t talk about it.
“We’ll miss you at Christmas,” I added quickly, because I was afraid she would start to sense my disappointment. “But I’m glad you’re going to get to be with your family. Let me know what you decide to do about January, and you know if you need anyone to check on things while you’re gone, I have four- wheel drive.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, and I disconnected, still browsing web pages then started punching out the numbers for the sheriff’s office. It was eight forty-five and I was still in my pajamas, still drinking coffee, still fooling around on the computer and still not accomplishing much at all. I felt a stirring of guilt that I quickly squelched. I used to be much more ambitious. Since we had closed down the kennel—okay, since the divorce, if I’m completely honest—I hadn’t been quite as energetic as I used to be. The dogs’ training programs had suffered, and I’d put on a pound or two as a result—neither one of which would serve me well come spring when the competitive agility season began. I kept promising myself I was going to get back on track, but somehow never found the motivation. Maybe after Christmas.
The phone had just started to ring when I heard happy scrambling dog paws bounding into the room and a petulant voice demanded, “Where is my iPad?”
I quickly shut down the web page, disconnected, and spun around. Mischief, Magic and Cisco were happily
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