Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Six months later
CHLOE
A crisp October breeze swept into the vestibule of the coach house when I opened the door to find Malcolm standing in the courtyard. “Hey, Malcolm. Brad’s not here if you’re looking for him.”
He grinned broadly and said, “I noticed his truck wasn’t here. Anyway, I wanted to invite Brad to a party I’m holding on Sunday night.”
“Right, the start of the pennant race.” And the Blue Jays had qualified so the whole province was partying.
“You got it!” Malcolm’s grin widened. “Can you tell Brad about it?”
“I can.”
“You can come too if you want. I don’t know if you’re into baseball at all. But Ellie would probably like some female company.”
“I like baseball just fine.” I’d played center fielder in high school. “Is Ellie up to entertaining?”
Not many people had been told of Ellie’s pregnancy yet, but I’d guessed it before she’d confirmed it. Mainly because I’d heard her throwing up several mornings in a row as I was leaving Brad’s apartment. “Should I bring anything?”
“Ketchup chips or pretzels are always welcome. Or maybe one of your famous nacho and queso dishes?”
I couldn’t stop my laugh at his request. Ellie had often commented on Malcolm’s penchant for nachos and cheese. “You got it.”
“Ah, man, Brad’s so lucky you put up with him. So you two will come?”
“I can’t say for sure yet. I’ll have to check with Brad.”
Malcolm laughed. “It’s tough to coordinate schedules with that dude.”
He glanced past me as my phone rang in our upstairs apartment. “I’ll let you go grab that. Once you have an answer from him, let me know with our usual signal.”
The usual signal was waving at the coach house’s camera hidden in the garage door light and giving it a thumbs up or down. Or in Brad’s case, a middle finger salute up or down.
I closed the door, raced up the stairs and picked up my phone as the call went to voicemail. Marilyn Bordon. Without bothering to listen to the message, I called her back. “Hey, Marilyn, what’s up?”
“Is Bradley around?” Her voice held a tinge of either panic or annoyance, I couldn’t decide which.
“He’s working overtime today.” Guilt crept into me as it always did when he was out on a call and I’d not gone into the office. But it was a Sunday, and there really was no reason for me to go to work now that I’d whipped Molly’s somewhat unorganized system into shape. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Maybe?” The panic or annoyance faded to hopefulness. “Henrietta figured out how to open the latch on the new chicken coop and now all the chickens are running all over the grounds. I’ve tried to catch them but they keep running from me. I don’t know how I’m going to round them up. Could you come over and help?”
Wow, guess I could add chicken wrangler to my list of skills. “Of course. I’ll be right there. Give me ten minutes.”
After texting Brad with a “chickens got loose, going to Marilyn’s” message, I slipped out of my sandals and into my sneakers, grabbed my car keys out of the Faraday box Malcolm had given Brad, insisting he use it to protect our vehicles from car thieves, and headed out.
Marilyn met me as I rounded her house, Snowball tucked beneath her arm. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
I didn’t either, but I didn’t want to admit that. “Let’s see if chickens can outrun my legs, shall we?”
As she’d warned me, the chickens ranged the entire width of the lawn, and one was roosting in the branch of one of her lilacs. I blinked when I spotted a Rhode Island Red scratching the ground near the shoreline on the north side. “Did you get a new chicken or is he—she—an interloper?”
Marilyn beamed. “That’s Tanya Clucker. A friend of mine loves Rhode Island Reds. She said they do really well in our winters and still lay eggs, so I got a couple on Monday.” She pointed to the willow where another Rhode Island Red was scratching. “That’s Gertrude.”
I slowly walked toward the shore, making an effort to be casual and not let the chicken—Gertrude—see me looking at her. But as soon as I took a step closer to her, she flapped and half ran, half flew up the lawn and sent her sister? Twin? Competition? Flying in the other direction toward the lilacs. “Do you have a fishing net? Something we can use to try to contain them?”
Despite the crisp October breeze blowing across the lake, sweat beaded on my forehead while I chased the damned birds. By the time Brad arrived almost forty-five minutes later, Marilyn had captured Eggatha, Quackers and Amelia Egghart, while I’d only managed to wrangle Margaret Hatcher, and stored them safely back in their coop.
While Marilyn explained the predicament, which really didn’t require explanation considering the two chickens ranging around the lawn, Brad worked hard at suppressing his laughter. He had the advantage of being able to stroke his beard as if he were thinking deeply, though he had perfected the art of having his hand hide his grin.
“Marilyn didn’t seem to have any problems, but whenever I get anywhere near them, or even look then, especially that damned crazy bird over there—” I tipped my head toward Tanya “—she runs away like I’m the Colonel ready to toss her in the fryer.”
“It’s because they trust me, dear.” Marilyn patted my arm. “I’ve built up a friendship with them so they know I’m not going to hurt them. Don’t take it personally.” She frowned as she eyed the still-free Reds. “But Tanya and Gertrude don’t know me yet. I haven’t had enough time to build up any trust with them.”
Shifting his hand as if to rub the side of his face so only I could see his pearly whites, he said, “Let me see what I can do.”
“Gertrude should be called Hen Solo because that little bugger can go point-five faster than the speed of light,” I muttered as I followed him toward the chicken coop.
He pivoted and walked backward, his grin as wide as I’ve ever seen it. “I knew it! You’re a Star Wars geek. Technically, if that chicken could go that fast, she should be called the Mill-Hennium Falcon, because it was the ship that went fast, not Han Solo himself.”
“Oh! We are so doing a Star Wars marathon next weekend!”
“You’re on.” He rotated again and walked forward, passing the coop and heading for the shed where Marilyn kept the chicken feed and supplies. “But first we need to catch the damned chickens.”
“I’ve got a net and that worked okay to catch Margaret Hatcher, but Tanya is too clever, and Gertrude’s too fast.”
“We’ll need the net too, but let’s try this first.” He grabbed a container of chicken feed, took the net I held out to him, and strode to the point where Tanya waited. We all waited as Tanya ruffled her feathers and strutted around, eyeing Brad as she moved closer to the feed. When she dipped her head to peck at it, instead of jumping up to catch her, Brad simply spoke to her. Crooned to her. Poured some seed in his hand and held it out.
Damn if the chicken didn’t start eating from his palm so Brad could easily tuck her under his arm and pop her back into the coop with the rest.
“You’re a freaking chicken whisperer,” I whispered. “And no, we’re not getting chickens. Ellie wouldn’t like them when she’s entertaining in her back yard.
“Never said I wanted any.” His grin was back. He picked up the chicken feed container as if it weighed nothing and made his way over to Gertrude who had watched the whole maneuver from her perch. “But having fresh eggs would be handy.”
I bit my tongue before noting that the man went through a lot of food, so fresh eggs would save a substantial amount in our grocery bills.
He held out another palmful of seed and once again crooned, calling to Gertrude in soft promise. “Come on, girl, you know you want it.”
“If you ever use that tone on me when we’re alone, I’m gonna make you pay. Big time.”
His laugh scared Gertrude, who squawked and raced another dozen feet toward the hedge.
“Aw, did the big, bad man frighten you?” I cooed. “He’s so big and scary, isn’t he? But you don’t have to be scared of me.”
“I think you terrorized her when you ran around chasing her with the net,” Marilyn said wryly.
But though Gertrude strutted away a few steps, she didn’t run.
“Hold out your hand.”
When I did, Brad poured feed into my palm. “Hey, Marilyn, did you name that chicken or did it come with that name?”
“That’s the name it came with. I haven’t figured out if it fits yet so I haven’t changed it, but I’m thinking Mrs. Cluckington.”
“Or Princess Lay-A,” I suggested.
Brad’s lips pursed together in another attempt to suppress his laughter. “Right. Now Chloe, hold your hand out, and keep saying her name in that same tone you just used.”
He took a step closer to whisper in my ear, “I remember you using that tone on me last night, so if you’re think to make me pay up for using a tone, turnabout is fair play.”
“As long as you don’t make me dress like a chicken, we’re good.”
We were just putting the last chicken back in the coop when a well-dressed, good-looking woman rounded the house. I stiffened when I recognized one of the hosts of a morning television show from Toronto. She and her co-host, and several other crew members, had openly discussed my husband’s case, and even speculated on my guilt or innocence.
“Hey, Grandma…” The woman stopped when she spied us. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Holly, dear, I’m so happy you made it!” Marilyn rushed over to her granddaughter and gave her a big hug. “Holly hosts the morning show on channel seventy-nine. We’re so proud of her.”
When Marilyn introduced me, Holly held out her hand with a warm, “I’m so happy to meet the people who look after my grandmother.”
Keeping my chin down, I held up my grimy hand. “I’ve been wrangling chickens, so I don’t think you want to shake my hand. But it’s nice to meet you.”
“Holly’s promised to look after the chickens for me this Christmas,” Marilyn said, giving Holly’s arm a squeeze. “You missed some fun, dear. Some of the chickens escaped and we had to round them up. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call Brad or Chloe here and if they can’t help you, they’ll know who to call.”
brAD
As Holly approached, Chloe had stiffened and wouldn’t meet Holly’s eyes. Six months ago, I might have thought she was shy or starstruck, but now I recognized her gesture as fear, like a deer preparing to bolt.
But fear of what?
“And this is Brad, her boyfriend and the very nice man who takes care of my trees.”
“And your chickens from the sounds of it, Gram,” Holly said, extending her hand to me.
“Nice to meet you, Holly.” I shook her hand, being sure not to apply too much pressure. I grimaced when I saw the state of my fingers—which were grimier than Chloe’s. “Hate to greet and run, Marilyn, but Chloe and I need to get going.”
As expected, Marilyn fussed, offering us tea or coffee and more homemade cookies, but I shook my head. “Sorry, maybe another day.”
I eased us out of the back yard and helped Chloe into her truck. Before I closed the door, I said, “Meet you back at the coach house?”
She nodded. “Okay. Oh, and remind me we need to talk about a party invitation from Malcolm over dinner.”
“Sure. Did you want to go out tonight? Or do you want me to stop off and pick something up?”
She glanced down at her clothes, which, like her hands, were streaked with dirt and chicken feathers. “Eat in tonight, I think.”
Perfect for my plans. “What do you want me to pick up? Fried chicken or pizza?”
Chloe raised her eyebrows at me and grinned. “Can you seriously tell me you could eat chicken now you’ve met chickens with names?”
She had a point. “Pizza then?”
We talked about toppings and sizes, then I hopped into my truck, carefully reversing out of the steep driveway, and continued farther down the road to give Chloe room to get out. Once she was heading back to the highway, I followed her until we got into town where I turned off at the road leading to the pizza place.
To my disappointment, by the time I arrived home with the pizza, Chloe had already showered and changed.
“How’d the job go today?” she asked, tipping her lips up to catch mine in a quick kiss, though she seemed more intent on taking the pizza off my hands.
I followed her into the kitchenette. “I had to teach them how to do an e-Transfer, but they got it done.”
“I saw the payment go through. Well done.”
I’d been able to help the client do the e-Transfer only because Chloe had taught me. One of the improvements she’d introduced when we’d taken over the Prunery’s management.
Even though I’d tried two more banks, I hadn’t been able to get a loan to buy out John and Molly. But Chloe, beautiful, brilliant Chloe, had put together a new plan and, using her family’s connections, approached one of the larger arborist firms in the city. With lots of help from Ellie, Josh, and a lawyer Ellie had recommended, we’d set up a plan that they’d buy out Pine Ridge Prunery’s equipment and client list, but keep the Port Paxton office, and all the employees, in place as a satellite office.
In a stroke of brilliant legal wrangling that I didn’t understand, she’d convinced them to sign an option to allow us to buy back the business in five years. We’d have to find a new building, since we couldn’t afford to buy the land and workshop, but we’d keep a majority of the equipment, and hopefully all our teams together, too. The five years gave me time to save up more money as well as time to take some business courses at the local college.
There’d been some hiccups in the initial transfer, especially when Chloe, the newly appointed office manager, took over the books. She’d discovered Molly hadn’t been reporting a lot of their income properly, which explained why the banks thought something was off with my initial business plan.
In better developments, we also discovered that Chloe’s working knowledge of what the guys went through, and what jobs could or could not be done, or which needed immediate attention, helped both with maintaining the teams’ confidence as well keeping the clients satisfied.
After we’d finished the pizza and were curled up on the couch together, she handed me a folded sheet of paper. “I found this under my door yesterday.”
I unfolded the sheet and read it. A notice of rental increase on her apartment. “Ten percent? I guess that’s not bad for these days. At least they’re not going to try to sell it to you as a condo or turf you out saying it needs repairs and then re-rent it for twice the price.”
“I can handle it now I have a steady job.”
I saw my opportunity, so I grabbed it. “Or you could give up your apartment, and move in with me.” I nodded toward the bedroom. “Most of your clothes are already here.”
As was her toothbrush, extra bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and make-up that had taken over my bathroom counter. And the standing unit I’d added over the toilet when I realized she needed more space for her toiletries.
Should I suggest that we split the rent? I didn’t need her to, but I knew she was determined to pay her own way and might take me offering to carry that load as an insult? Even knowing her six months now, practically living with her the last three, she could still be hard to read.
“We could split the rent,” she said slowly, as if she could hear my thoughts. “That way you could save money faster to buy out your share of the Prunery.”
“Our share,” I corrected her. “You’re part of the Prunery now, Chloe. If you want to be. The set up, the option to buy it out, was your idea.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I like working in the office, being in charge.”
Able to see the books and ensure we weren’t going into debt, she didn’t say, but I heard. One day I hoped she’d get over that fear.
“Better than working for your father?”
Mike had been making noises about wanting to retire, and had mentioned he expected Chloe to take over the whole thing herself.
“Dad’s business is Dad’s baby. Not mine. I’ve already told him that if he wants to sell it to someone else, to go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“So you’ll move in with me? Permanently? Give up your place?”
She grabbed her purse from the side table and rummaged through the many pockets. When had she put it there? She normally kept it in the bedroom. “There it is!” she announced, holding up another envelope. “I wanted to check with you before I sent this.”
She handed it to me, her bottom lip once again caught between her teeth.
I will not be renewing my lease on the apartment as of… She included her move-out date as the end of this month, and left my address as her forwarding address.
“Guess you are sure.” As much as I wanted to propose, I knew marriage wasn’t on her card any time soon. Any mention of a proposal would probably send her flying as far away from me as she could get.
But I had another way of celebrating. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. “So, Mrs. Office Manager, how about we ask Ellie if we can paint this place? Then I can take you down to the hardware store and you can pick up a bunch of paint swatches?”
Chloe’s face lit up. “Do you think she will let us?”
I knew the blandness of her apartment wasn’t a reflection of her and I loved seeing her excitement. I pulled out my second surprise from my pocket and handed it to her. “I was going to save this for next Saturday—” the six month anniversary of our first date. “But I can’t wait.”
Puzzlement filling her eyes, Chloe opened the envelope. And gasped. “What is this?” Her gaze shot up to mine.
“It’s the confirmation that we’re going on a trip to Paris.”
“Paris, France? What have you done? We can’t afford this.”
“Yes, we can.” I settled beside her, unsure if my gesture was as grand as I’d hoped it would be when I’d submitted my first entry. “I won it.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, not so grand.
“Wait a minute. What contest?”
“You know that morning show I like watch before work?”
“The one where they call someone every day and the person has to answer with a phrase of the day?”
“That station, yes. They had a contest last month where the funniest animal video won. So I entered it.” Twenty-seven times. With twenty-seven different videos. Most of them of me making an idiot of myself.
“And you won,” she said slowly.
“That’s right.”
“What was your video about?”
I pulled up the video on my phone and handed it to Chloe. “Hit play.”
By the time she finished watching the video, Chloe was laughing so hard, tears streaked down her cheek and she was holding her stomach. She immediately hit “play again” and watched it four more times. “Whose ideas was it to do a fashion show for chickens? And where did you get all those outfits for them? Did you write the commentary?”
“Shelly made some of them. Cynthia made some of the others. Joy, Cynthia, and Malcolm helped me write the commentary.”
Her eyes widened. “They were all in on it? And no one said a word to me?”
“I swore them to secrecy.” I had great sisters, and a great friend, because none of them had leaked a single word of my asinine project to Chloe or anyone else. Even Marilyn had managed to keep my secret.
Chloe hit play again, and once again laughed all the way through it. “It must have taken you forever to do all those costumes changes and get the shots!”
“About a month.”
She climbed on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She pulled back for a moment. “This is why you’ve been at Marilyn’s so much lately, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s why I’ve been over at Marilyn’s so much. And I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you.” I caught her mouth with mine, glad to finally be free of my secret. When we came up for air, I also admitted, “I’ve wanted to take you on a trip but with trying to save money to buy PRP, I knew this might be the only way we could go anywhere fancy for years.”
“When do we leave?”
“Whenever you want. It’s time to dust off that passport of yours, Chloe Pogue. I’m taking you to Paris!”