Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, but our newest transplant, Mr. Pace, seemed to be fanning the flames.”
Mr. Allard Pace—who had recently bought Haskell Manor and was in the process of turning it into a B&B—I had only seen in passing. Many others in town had the same thought, to capitalize on Osprey’s new status as a tourist attraction, but while most were residents, Mr. Pace had newly arrived two or three weeks prior.
“Define fanning the flames.”
“Well, apparently, he had a deal with Diana to supply small jars of honey to go into his welcome baskets for guests of his B and B, and the deal would have been quite lucrative. He is upset for himself, as well as her, and let everyone know that.”
“Which is nice, I guess.”
“To be concerned for her, as well as for himself, yes. Certainly. But his rhetoric was overly charged, in my opinion. He told Troy he should be ashamed of himself and got both Diana and Ken up in arms.”
“What did Troy do?”
“He just sat there, shaking his head, and pointed out, again, how absurd the accusation was. We all agreed, but neither Diana nor Ken wavered in their belief, and as I said, Mr. Pace was not backing down either.”
“And so you think because of all that, something will happen at the carnival?”
“It seems far more likely than someone being foolish enough to actually go to Troy’s home.” His face scrunched up like that was simply crazy. “I mean, Rita has those geese.”
Originally, she had four of the Sebastopol variety that she loved, but they didn’t thrive here. They also weren’t crazy about Rita, which I didn’t understand. Everyone and everything loved Rita Johnson. But she went ahead and gave them to her sister, who took them back to West Virginia with her after a visit in the fall. As far as I knew, the move had been great for them.
This winter, Rita found a seemingly dead Canada goose beyond the stream on her property, near the line where it bordered the nature preserve. As far as she could tell, someone had grazed it with a bullet and broken its wing. Rita called a friend, a wildlife rehabber, was told precisely what to do, and saved the goose. She took wonderful care of him—it was a gander—and when she finally took him back outside a week later, there were three others waiting for him. It was the beginning of her flock because none of them wanted to leave.
By law, Canada geese are wild, so it’s illegal to keep them. But as there was no pen and they were free to leave, Rita couldn’t be fined. The only fences on the Johnson property went around the apiary, the chicken enclosure, and the vegetable garden. Why would the geese choose to stay? Well, that might’ve had something to do with the luxurious accommodations, which I knew all about as I’d helped build the little cabana they retreated to every evening. It boasted a heater for fall and winter, an air-conditioning unit for summer, and heavy-duty mesh on the windows in the spring so no predator could get in. And yes, technically that meant they were cooped in, which was illegal, but…since that only happened at night, and no one was popping by in the wee hours of the morning to check, it went unnoticed. There were ten of them at the moment, and though I wasn’t crazy about them, I had to agree with Father Dennis that they were not to be messed with. They were all at least twelve pounds—not that anyone weighed them—and had between five- and six-foot wing spans and bad attitudes. Scary didn’t do them justice.
I had no idea how they could be so mean to everyone but Rita and Delia. They were still not fond of Troy, and that was what Rufus, their golden retriever, was for. They adored him, and because of that, they refrained from attacking Troy. Apparently, they also enjoyed the hum of the bees, and when my friend was out taking care of his colony, they would all sit down and watch. The picture the animals and the humans made was lovely: dog lying in the warm sunlight, geese in the shade or swimming in the stream, the handsome man collecting honey, and his beautiful wife polishing pieces of jewelry on the wraparound porch, sipping lemonade.
The last time I was there, reclining near Rita, arms behind my head, legs dangling, suddenly there were strangers—tourists, I later learned, who’d gotten turned around—taking several uninvited steps into the yard.
First off, who did that without an invitation? Second, big mistake. Huge.
“Who are they?” I remembered asking.
“Wait,” Rita cautioned the strangers, quickly getting up from her chair.
“No,” Troy yelled from where he was, farther back on the property.
But a man was striding forward into their yard, a couple of women behind him. “We would love to—ohmygod!”