Chapter 2
Elias
What is she doing?
I’ve been watching the woman from my Adirondack porch rocker Dad made me last year, trying to figure out what’s going on with her.
This area isn’t exactly known for scavengers, being that it’s so far off the beaten path, but it’s not unheard of.
If we get a vagrant around here, they’re usually filthy.
This woman standing on the back porch, sucking in deep breaths and sobbing, is pristine in a pink floral dress that probably cost more than my truck.
Realtor?
That tracks. With Goldie gone, they’ll want to sell the place. I haven’t been inside her cottage in ages, but I have a feeling the realtor just figured out how much work she has ahead of her.
Chirp.
I peel my gaze from the blonde and arch an eyebrow at my little green feathered friend sitting on the table beside me.
He’s already devoured his millet. Now he’s curiously trying to climb onto my coffee mug.
Last time I let him do that, he dropped a surprise in there for me. I had to make another cup.
With a grunt, I reach toward him with my finger out, so he’ll step up. “Who’s the lady, Cloverby?”
Cloverby, or Clo for short, cocks his head to the side. He doesn’t notice the woman yet since he’s too busy pestering me. It’s better than pouting in his cage. Been doing that a lot since Goldie passed.
And you’re any better?
You haven’t done any jobs since she went to the hospital.
I shove those thoughts away as I bring my bird friend to my face. He chirps again and then tries to eat my beard hair. Sometimes he’ll get a strand and yank. Hurts, too.
“Guess I better get back to work tomorrow, huh?” I say to him, hoping to distract him from trying to rip my beard off one hair at a time. “You’re going to be so bored without me.”
Clo is like all budgies. He’s tiny and fragile but has so much personality. We’ve gotten close in the past week. In fact, he’s hardly left my side. If I didn’t put him away in his cage at night, he’d probably try and sleep in the bed with me too.
The afternoon sun peeking through the trees warms my chest. It’s definitely not a fuzzy feeling of love for this little creature. Nope, not at all.
He chirps knowingly and then stretches, showing off his wing. Clo is like me. We enjoy slow, quiet moments like sitting on the back patio, enjoying our late-afternoon treats, and listening to wind chimes sing their familiar tunes.
The woman makes a pained wailing sound, finally alerting my budgie to her presence. He flaps his wings and then scuttles around my finger so he can look in her direction. And then he takes off.
“For fudge sake!” I hiss at my bird, noting that I’m keeping my mouth clean even with Goldie no longer here to remind me. That woman was a stickler about language, and it’s engrained in me now.
Clo doesn’t usually fly off, and always comes back, but for some reason he wants to check out the realtor lady. That makes one of us. I’d rather she just stick her sign in the front yard and leave.
Why, Elias?
I know exactly why and it irritates me. The thought of someone new moving into the house next door that’s always belonged to Goldie rankles me. I don’t like change. This one is huge. Having this woman with her fancy pink dress here is a reminder that it’s coming whether I want it to or not.
With a grumble under my breath, I pull my massive frame out of the rocker and rise to my feet.
Clo made a pit stop on a tree branch and is now yelling in his birdie language at our visitor.
She’s too busy bawling her eyes out to notice his antics.
Not one to be ignored, he flings himself out of the tree and lands on top of her head.
And then she screams.
I stride over to them, my long legs quickly eating up the distance. Clo squawks in irritation when I snatch him in my large hand. His little green head pokes out and he bites my thumb.
“Mothersucker!” I snarl.
The blonde realtor lady stumbles a few steps away from me and my unruly bird, staring at me like I’m some sort of predator lying in wait. I just saved her silky golden hair from my literally crappy bird. The least she can do is not gape at me like I’m going to attack her.
You’re the town serial killer, though…
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
“Just put your sign in the front yard and go,” I bark out, voice harsh and bordering on rude. “You’re disturbing the wildlife.”
She blinks her freakishly long eyelashes at me, sending tears flicking my way. “W-What?”
I make the mistake of scanning over her chest, looking for a name tag or some other identification, because she crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at me.
“Excuse you,” she snaps. “I have a boyfriend.”
My nostrils flare in irritation. “I wasn’t looking at—” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand, ignoring a hollering Clo. “I’m just saying, do your realtor thing, and go.”
“Realtor thing?”
“Listen,” I continue with a shrug. “If you can’t handle it, I’ll make some calls. You’re clearly not from around here and I know just the person from Trust in the Cove Realty who could sell that house without you ever having to step foot in it again.”
What I don’t tell her is that the person I know is my mom. Her firm is the best in town, though, so I would be doing this lady a solid.
The woman dries her tears, and her electric blue eyes burn into me. They’re not the right color, but there’s something familiar in her fiery gaze.
“I am not a realtor,” the woman says finally, each word clipped.
My eyebrow inches up. “Oh, yeah? Who the heck are you then? An effin’ trespasser?”
Goldie would be so proud of my manners. I haven’t let a single curse word slip out. My stomach sinks. I miss that old lady.
The blonde steps closer, lifting her chin. “I’m not a trespasser. Nora.”
Clo bites me hard enough I release him. He flutters around Nora before landing on her shoulder. This time she doesn’t panic and eyes him with a small smile. I rub at the burning pinched place on my skin. Little ungrateful chirpy twerp.
“Elias Cove. I live next door. Handyman. In case you, uh, need to hire out some help fixing up Goldie’s place.” I frown at her. “But you’re not a realtor, so…”
Nora’s plump pink lips part and her cheeks redden. Is she embarrassed that I’m calling her out? If she doesn’t have any business being here, I’ll be calling the sheriff next. Monroe owes me a beer anyway.
“I’m Goldie’s granddaughter,” she says, dropping her eyes to the grass. “Nora Everhart.”
Everhart.
The name is a kick to my chest. I’m unable to breathe for at least three minutes. I stare at this woman with new, judging eyes.
“You’re her only grandchild.” A loud, bordering on cruel scoff escapes me. “You didn’t go to her funeral.”
Her face crumples and I feel sick.
Who does that?
Goldie loved this girl more than anything and she couldn’t even be bothered to show up.
“Where are her birds?” Nora demands, chin quivering.
“If you’d been around, maybe you’d know,” I growl.
Clo, sensing the tension, leaps off her shoulder and makes a beeline over to the greenhouse-turned-aviary in Goldie’s backyard. He lands on the wind chime near the door, making it clang loudly, as he waits to be let in.
Nora swivels around to see where he went and then lets out a small gasp.
From our vantage point, you can see movement within the small building.
When I finished the build last year, I moved all the rescues from Goldie’s cottage into it for more space.
And because I needed to take over their care.
Having the aviary out back was easier than getting Goldie to allow me inside her home which was really difficult.
That old woman was too proud for her own good.
“They’re alive,” Nora croaks out as she races over to the aviary.
I stomp after her, agitated about her presence in general.
It’s pretty low to miss your own grandma’s funeral and only show up to sell the house.
I don’t need to ask her to know why she’s here.
The cottage, once sold, will bring in a pretty penny.
Apparently, money is all those city folks care about anyway.
Nora jiggles the handle, but it doesn’t open. “Let me in. Why are they locked inside?”
For someone who hasn’t visited the entire decade I’ve lived next door, she has some gall with her demands.
I reach up to pull the key off the hook and unlock the door.
We have to keep it locked because some of the budgies are smart and can get doors open.
Especially Frodo. As if summoned by thought alone, a yellow head pokes out the second I get the door open.
“Stay back,” I warn. “Your buddy’s here, Frodo.”
Clo, happy to be with his friends, swoops past us into the chaotic aviary. I don’t go in because I’ve already done my birdie duties for the day. The place is so clean you can eat off the floor, not that anyone would want to. Well, aside from Frodo. He’ll eat anything from anywhere.
“Oh, you sweet babies,” Nora says, entering the space. “I’m here now. It’s all going to be okay.”
I snort in derision. Is this lady for real right now?
“Visiting time is over,” I bark out. “I have things I need to do.”
I’m a liar. I have literally nothing to do. She doesn’t need to know that, though.
Seconds later, Nora emerges, scowling at me.
At least she’s not crying anymore. I lock the door, letting Clo have some playtime with the others, and pocket the key this time.
Something about this woman unnerves me. I don’t trust her and those budgies were important to her grandmother.
I’m not about to let her do something stupid like forget to close the door, whether intentionally or not.
Nora storms away and back inside her grandma’s house without another word. I suspect there’ll be an impending meltdown in three, two, one—
“Why don’t the lights work?” Nora demands, poking her blonde head out the back door and reminding me of Frodo. “What did you do?”
“Me?” I stride over to her, shaking my head. “Lady, you’ve been here all of five minutes and have the balls to start demanding answers?”
Goldie would nail me for that word. “Balls” is considered foul language to the elderly.
Nora’s jaw practically unhinges. “This is my grandma’s house. I have a right to know.”
I’m saved from having to answer the entitled brat when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. If she wanted to know all the things so badly about her grandma’s house, maybe she should have shown up to Budgie Bay at least once in the past ten years.
“Yeah,” I bark out, answering the call as I stalk away from the infuriating woman.
A deep, familiar voice chuckles. “Someone’s grumpier than usual.”
“You have no idea.”
“Want to tell me all about it? Silas says he has a cold one waiting for you.”
“Let me grab a shower and then I’ll head that way.”
I barely get the call ended before Nora is on me, jabbing her pointy pink fingernail at me. “Tell me what’s going on around here, Elias. I am not in the mood today.”
That makes two of us.
I grit my teeth and glower at the short, fiery woman. This little apple didn’t fall far from the Goldie Everhart tree. I loved that old woman, but she drove me crazy. It’s clearly genetic.
“I suggest you head into town before it gets dark. Utilities have been cut off. No electricity to charge your phone. No water to bathe in,” I tell her with a satisfied smirk. “It’d be best if you pack it up and head on home.”
Again, I leave her standing with her mouth hanging open in pure shock. Hopefully this will be the last time I have to see her.
Go back to the city where you belong, Nora.
Budgie Bay doesn’t want you.