59. Claire
59
CLAIRE
T he house is a flurry of activity.
We’re moving out. Maeby is moving in. Men in blue uniforms and work gloves pace around the house, taking it apart piece by piece.
“What d’you want us to do with this?” one of the men asks me.
He motions to the painting that hangs above the mantlepiece. It’s an old oil painting of me and my father. The stern, scowling man and the starry-eyed teenagers with dreams of Belleflower Queens dancing in her head.
“Burn it,” I tell him.
I leave the bewildered worker and step outside. I need air.
Autumn has brought in its gusty chill. The cool air tingles on my bare arms. I should get a sweater, but I like the way Kentucky bites this time of year.
I let my feet guide me. I find myself walking around the hedges, making my way to the stables. The tall grass tickles my ankles. When I approach, I hear Ransom’s voice from inside: “—gotta give him his alone time with Miss Penny, otherwise, he gets ornery. I usually give him a couple hours in the evening while I’m winding down.”
I peek in through the open double doors. Ransom and Maeby are sitting in the stables by Chaucer’s pen. His gate is open, and he’s sniffing at Miss Penny affectionately.
“And check this one out,” Ransom says. “Chaucer! Beer me!”
Chaucer steps over to the gate, takes Ransom’s hat off the post, and flings it at Ransom.
“Alright, well, we’re working on it.”
Maeby gives a whistle. “Chaucer, beer me.”
Chaucer flicks his tail. He goes over to the open cooler, picks out a beer, and takes it between his teeth. Then he saunters over to Maeby, holding it out for her.
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. The look on Ransom’s face is priceless. “How in the hell?—?”
“Don’t you worry about your Chaucer. He’s gonna be just fine in my hands, aren’t you, boy?”
Maeby tickles him under the chin and takes her prize beer. He lets out a pleased huff.
I step inside, lifting a hand in a short wave to get their attention. “Hey.”
Ransom leans back to look at me. “Need something, Bear?”
“Actually…I was wondering if Maeby and I could talk.”
“Of course.” She gets up, dusting straw off her backside. She hands the beer over to Ransom and follows me. “Should we take a walk?”
We walk around the property line.