25 Birdie
BIRDIE
I wave goodbye to Hortie at the back of the shop, watching as she drives off in her little hatchback.
She prattled the whole way into town, talking about the weather and gossiping about island news.
And she mentioned no less than three more times that dinner tonight will be at six o’clock.
She kept asking me about my favorite foods too.
When she pressed me on pasta, I think I said arrabbiata.
There’s no escaping her tentacle hold now. She’s like a kraken of kindness, a mythical monster of motherly affection. I’ll go tonight and eat my spicy pasta. I’ll just have to find a way to weasel out of any future dinners.
Shrugging the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, I glance down at Pickles. He sits curled in his basket, acting on his best behavior since we left the house. Hortie gave me a key to the shop and told me to “just chuck him in there.” But that seems overly harsh.
“Won’t you be lonely in the shop all by yourself?”
He mews softly at me.
Sighing, I grip tighter to the braided basket handle. “Come on. I think I have a tuna pack upstairs.”
I get us up the stairs and pause on the landing, turning to look down into the alley.
Everything looks so different in the daylight.
The cobblestones are quaint, and the ivy-covered side of Salt & Sage is like something out of a storybook.
Down at the mouth of the alley, the bustle on Main Street hurries to and fro—trotting dogs, babies in strollers.
A man walks by carrying a bunch of colorful balloons.
It’s all so at odds with my last memory of this place—
I stiffen. My breath catches in my throat as I hold very still.
I feel it again. That same chill from before.
Last night, I stood at this railing and looked down at Jasper lying on the cobblestones.
I can practically feel the rain misting my arms as I picture those creepy skeletal hands holding Jasper down.
Then I feel his eyes. The watcher. I couldn’t see his face under his hood, but I felt the intensity of his stare. I felt—
“Oh god—”
I gasp, stepping away from the railing. It was the same feeling! This morning, in the hallway of Jasper’s house, I felt it again, that feeling of being watched by him, being seen. In the moment, I dismissed it as Pickles. But I felt eyes on me before Pickles came up the stairs.
I glance down at the cat in his basket. “I think I might be going crazy.”
A sharp caw has me shrieking in fright. I all but jump out of my skin as I spin around. There, perched on the opposite railing, is a large black raven. Its beady eyes take us in as it tips its head, first this way, then that.
I frown. “So, I was being watched!”
He clicks his beak at me, shuffling a little to the left. Gosh, the thing is huge. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a raven up close before. Didn’t Jasper ask for proof of any ravens spotted on the island? Something about overpopulation?
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Reaching slowly inside my front pocket, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of him. I don’t dare get too close.
Honestly, this bird kind of creeps me out. His shiny black eye locks on me with the intensity of a camera lens. Stepping forward, I wave my hand. “Go on, shoo!”
The raven squawks indignantly, ruffling his feathers before he sweeps over my head and swoops down the alley, disappearing around the corner. As soon as he’s gone, the feeling of being watched disappears.
With a loud meow, Pickles hops out of his basket and trots over to the door, plopping his butt down on Phoebe’s NO PRICKS ALLOWED welcome mat.
“You couldn’t have helped a girl out? Aren’t cats supposed to like chasing birds?”
He just flicks his tail, waiting for me.
Sighing, I exchange my phone for the keys and let us both into the apartment. Pickles races to the table, hopping up.
“I only have ten minutes and then I have to go. And you’ll have to stay in the shop while I’m gone.” Setting my stuff down, I pull out my phone again and shoot Jasper a couple quick texts, including the picture of the raven. Hortie gave me his number on the drive over.
Pickles stands on the table like the naughty cat he is and does a big stretch and a yawn. Apparently, whatever bee was stuck in his bonnet from this morning seems to be gone and we’re friends again.
“Maybe Jasper will let us install a kitty door so you can come and go as you please?”
He perks up at this, swishing his skinny tail.
Laughing, I toss my phone onto the table. “All right, that’s enough. Help me get ready so I’m not late for my first day.”