Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“It’s hard when the event organizer isn’t around,” was all I could think of to say.
“Yes, it really is,” she agreed. “Now, I don’t want to tell you your job, but—wait, are you an event planner by any chance?”
She was so earnest with all her questions and the way she looked at me each time, really looking for these ridiculous answers, like the pirate one, I understood why Dr. Coleman thought there was something actually wrong with her. But the thing was, she reminded me a bit of my mother. People had always thought she was a bit scattered, like topics didn’t always stick in her head and she flitted from one to another. I had always loved it. So had my brother. The conversation was never dull. I was out of practice with the jumping around, but I was thinking I could pick it right back up being around this woman whom I already liked.
“I’m not, no,” I said softly.
“That’s too bad. But do you have lots of friends?”
“I don’t. I do want to make some, though.”
“It’s always good to have friends,” she said kindly. “And you know, there’s a fund for the upkeep that’s been growing since our last caretaker left. So if you do see things that need to be fixed, then you should do that.”
The topic changes were going to give me whiplash until I learned to pivot again. I cleared my throat. “When did your caretaker leave?”
“What year is this now?”
Oh dear God. “It’s—”
“He left in the summer of ninety-two, I believe.”
Shit. “So there’s been no one looking at the house for over thirty years?”
“Really? Thirty?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thirty. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“I do, ma’am.”
“Call me Ada, dear. Well…that might account for the front yard being a bit overgrown.”
A bit overgrown had to be the understatement of the century. The only thing keeping her front yard from spilling out onto the rest of the property was the five-foot wrought-iron fence that went around three sides.
“We should probably go to the bank now, dear, and get everything sorted out,” she said as we reached my Jeep, where she leaned into the back, rooted around in the bags, and found a little red parka for Misha. “Here we are.”
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Well, it’s cold for a small dog, so he needs a jacket, and then a harness, which is also here, wonderful,” she announced happily as she put him in his car seat and started putting on his coat. “And the harness is necessary because clearly, he’s too small for you to be yanking him around by his neck.”
“’Course.”
“And finally, he needs to be on a leash because you don’t want to lose him in the brush.”
“I—”
“You don’t want him falling off the side of the mountain, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh, darling, what did we say about that?”
“Yes. Sorry. Ada.”
“We have to be on a first-name basis. You’re my caretaker, after all.”
“I—”
“And what is Maks short for? Maximilian, Maksim, what?”
Interesting. “Maksim, actually.”
“Wonderful,” she said, and then in beautifully flowing, fluid Russian, asked me if I had gotten my gorgeous midnight-black eyes from my mother or my father.
“My mother,” I replied, fishing out my locket and showing her the picture. Why I felt compelled to do so, I had no idea.
“Oh, what a stunning woman she is,” she gasped.
“Was,” I said sadly.
“Is, darling,” she corrected me. “Your mother has just stepped around the corner, you understand? Just in another room, as is my dear Oscar. Out of sight, not out of mind.”
“That’s true.”
“There, you see?” Her smile was really beautiful. “And look, now Misha is ready for an adventure,” she announced. “But first, we must pee.”
She put him down, holding his leash, and walked him a few feet from the Jeep toward a maple tree. I heard her tell him the coyotes peed there so it would be good for him to start marking his territory. He looked up at her like yeah, okay, and then lifted his leg and let loose. When he was done, she praised him, scooped him up, and returned to me. She put him in his seat, took off the leash, clipped him into his seat, and then got into the back.
“I can move Misha so you can—”
“Oh, heavens no. He needs to learn his way around so he can navigate his way home if something untoward were to occur.”
“Something—”
“What if he’s taken, then escapes, and must find his way back to you?”
“Well, he’s a—”
“It’s vital that he get the lay of the land so he can return,” she said authoritatively, putting on her seat belt. “And besides, it would be a real pain to move it.”
That was true.
“Are we ready to go now, darling?”
“Yeah.”
“Huzzah!”
Starting the car, making sure to put on my own seat belt, I slowly backed up.
“I’m sure we’ll be home before dark,” she announced. “We’re only going to the bank. And perhaps to the deli, and then we’ll come right back home. You just need to be able to get some work done, as I think I have bats in the attic.”