is
that
far gone, it may not charge up even if I leave it overnight.
She had a second problem, too. How was she going to find the stupid thing when the garage was filled with the belongings she’d cleaned out of her New York apartment? Piles of cardboard boxes loomed wherever she looked.
Then she caught a hint of movement in the dimness.
Perfect,
she thought,
that’s all I need—a raccoon taking up residence among everything I own.
The intruder sailed gracefully to the top of a pile that looked like a step pyramid, and Sunny realized it wasn’t a raccoon, it was Shadow.
I guess a cat would think this was a great jungle gym,
she had to admit.
Shadow set his forepaws on the topmost box, bracing his back legs on the box beneath, and pushed.
At least he tried to.
“Good luck with that.” Sunny jeered at him from insidethe truck. “Those are boxes of books. Each one probably weighs twice as much as you do.”
That didn’t stop Shadow. He tried a shove, giving Sunny an impromptu physics demonstration. His action had an equal, opposite—and unfortunate—reaction. Shadow’s back feet skidded out from under him, and he tumbled to the floor. Sunny rose up in her seat to see him twist in midair to land on all four feet. With a flick of his tail, he set off at a stately walk, as if to say, “Excellent, precisely as I planned.”
Sunny laughed. “You got just what you deserved, smart-ass.”
Hearing her, Shadow paused, glancing up. Then he launched himself in a smooth leap for the top of a long, thin box leaning against the wall. It should have put him on eye level with her. Unfortunately, his weight landing on top caused the bottom of the angled box to start sliding out. Shadow danced desperately to keep from falling again.
Sunny laughed at his antics, then abruptly stopped, recognizing the box. It held art prints from her former living room. She’d spent a fortune to have them framed professionally under glass. A fall wouldn’t do them any good.
Yanking the door handle, Sunny barreled out of the truck and dashed for the box, managing to catch it with her foot before it fell flat.
Shadow watched with interest as she brought the box upright again; he sat perched with all four feet on the seat of the mountain bike hidden behind the box.
Sunny pulled the artwork box away. “I’d forgotten this was even here,” she said, spotting the bike.
Shadow found it interesting. He dropped down to the floor, sniffed the wheels, and sneezed from the dust that furred up the spokes.
Back in the ancient days, B.C.—Before Car—Sunny used to bike over to the New Stores and her job at Barnstable’s Sweet Shoppe.
“No reason I couldn’t do it again,” she said.
*
The next morning, Sunny found herself laboring up an incline that had somehow grown ridiculously steeper since her cycling days. Her calf muscles protested as she kept on pedaling.
Just a little farther,
she thought.
She reached the top of the hill and pulled over to the side of the road. It could have been worse. The sky was clear, and the air was crisp. She also had plenty of shade from the trees alongside the road.
Wouldn’t want to do this in the heat of summer,
Sunny mused.
I’d have to wring myself out by the time I got to the office.
Leaning against the handlebars, she glanced over her shoulder at the way she’d come. A lot of the tourist propaganda—er, marketing materials—she wrote and edited talked about the rocky coast of Maine, and certainly the view from the water could be quite picturesque. But the southern part of the state got pretty green during the summer. She looked back over a landscape of rolling hills, the homes getting sparser, and then farmland. This was harvest season. The trees were just beginning to show a little color.
Sunny turned to the path ahead. From here it was downhill all the way. The road curved along the contours of thehills, passing streets where the houses grew closer together until, as you got close to the
that
far gone, it may not charge up even if I leave it overnight.
She had a second problem, too. How was she going to find the stupid thing when the garage was filled with the belongings she’d cleaned out of her New York apartment? Piles of cardboard boxes loomed wherever she looked.
Then she caught a hint of movement in the dimness.
Perfect,
she thought,
that’s all I need—a raccoon taking up residence among everything I own.
The intruder sailed gracefully to the top of a pile that looked like a step pyramid, and Sunny realized it wasn’t a raccoon, it was Shadow.
I guess a cat would think this was a great jungle gym,
she had to admit.
Shadow set his forepaws on the topmost box, bracing his back legs on the box beneath, and pushed.
At least he tried to.
“Good luck with that.” Sunny jeered at him from insidethe truck. “Those are boxes of books. Each one probably weighs twice as much as you do.”
That didn’t stop Shadow. He tried a shove, giving Sunny an impromptu physics demonstration. His action had an equal, opposite—and unfortunate—reaction. Shadow’s back feet skidded out from under him, and he tumbled to the floor. Sunny rose up in her seat to see him twist in midair to land on all four feet. With a flick of his tail, he set off at a stately walk, as if to say, “Excellent, precisely as I planned.”
Sunny laughed. “You got just what you deserved, smart-ass.”
Hearing her, Shadow paused, glancing up. Then he launched himself in a smooth leap for the top of a long, thin box leaning against the wall. It should have put him on eye level with her. Unfortunately, his weight landing on top caused the bottom of the angled box to start sliding out. Shadow danced desperately to keep from falling again.
Sunny laughed at his antics, then abruptly stopped, recognizing the box. It held art prints from her former living room. She’d spent a fortune to have them framed professionally under glass. A fall wouldn’t do them any good.
Yanking the door handle, Sunny barreled out of the truck and dashed for the box, managing to catch it with her foot before it fell flat.
Shadow watched with interest as she brought the box upright again; he sat perched with all four feet on the seat of the mountain bike hidden behind the box.
Sunny pulled the artwork box away. “I’d forgotten this was even here,” she said, spotting the bike.
Shadow found it interesting. He dropped down to the floor, sniffed the wheels, and sneezed from the dust that furred up the spokes.
Back in the ancient days, B.C.—Before Car—Sunny used to bike over to the New Stores and her job at Barnstable’s Sweet Shoppe.
“No reason I couldn’t do it again,” she said.
*
The next morning, Sunny found herself laboring up an incline that had somehow grown ridiculously steeper since her cycling days. Her calf muscles protested as she kept on pedaling.
Just a little farther,
she thought.
She reached the top of the hill and pulled over to the side of the road. It could have been worse. The sky was clear, and the air was crisp. She also had plenty of shade from the trees alongside the road.
Wouldn’t want to do this in the heat of summer,
Sunny mused.
I’d have to wring myself out by the time I got to the office.
Leaning against the handlebars, she glanced over her shoulder at the way she’d come. A lot of the tourist propaganda—er, marketing materials—she wrote and edited talked about the rocky coast of Maine, and certainly the view from the water could be quite picturesque. But the southern part of the state got pretty green during the summer. She looked back over a landscape of rolling hills, the homes getting sparser, and then farmland. This was harvest season. The trees were just beginning to show a little color.
Sunny turned to the path ahead. From here it was downhill all the way. The road curved along the contours of thehills, passing streets where the houses grew closer together until, as you got close to the
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