2 Maid in the Shade Read Online Free Page B
Author: Bridget Allison
rabies scare.” Hopefully it was something more commonplace than that . There are probably plenty of deaths that end with foaming at the mouth which don’t involve rabies or the beginnings of a pandemic.
“I don't mean to sound like Mona,” I said car efully, “but should the sheriff's office have let us in there at all? It could have been something contagious right?”
“I guess we'll know shortly,” Lucy said mischievously.
When we dropped off the owl, Lucy took in the impressive clinic and spontaneously wrote the center a generous check. While I was there, I asked how the hawk Anita had brought in was faring. The vet gave me a blank look. “No hawks came in all week.”
I nodded. It wasn't unusual to get a call that didn't result in an animal transfer. Sometimes the birds were DOA, occasionally they were just momentarily stunned and escaped, or we examined and freed them on the spot. I would ask Anita about it later. I hadn’t even been able to inquire how she had come by the wounded owl; taking it to the center and allowing Jared to get back to his interview had been more important.
O nce we returned home I dropped Lucy off at her place, took Mosey out for another walk, and checked on the animals. I replenished their food and water and did my best to get a cursory head count of the hens, checking on Lucy’s horses while I was at it. A few hens appeared to be missing and I had noticed the new neighbor’s dog loitering around the coup. I would have to keep an eye on that.
I headed back to the cabin, pausing to grab a low, strong pin oak tree branch for a moment and throwing in a few chin-ups. This passes for exercise most days unless I go for a swim with Lucy or happen to have music on while I’m cleaning, then I dance. I’m a firm believer that exercise is necessary, but ought to be reasonably fun as well.
O nce inside, I hung all my bras up to dry, shaking my head at Lucy’s constant efforts to market me to Jared, Ben, or whoever else she deemed suitable.
I hadn’t done my bookkeeping for a while so I took care of that while I moved a new job to my phone calendar, and straightened up the house a bit. The cabin is more like home than any place I had been in a long while. The majority of the structure had been taken from an old log schoolhouse and dismantled before people in the county treasured such edifices. Leslie had appreciated it and tried to have the entire building moved to her land, but, bureaucracies being what they are, she just hadn’t moved quickly enough. The developer who had taken it down was the sort who believed it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
L eslie had transported the building materials which weren’t destroyed to her land. Rebuilding the original was hopeless, but the wood was used to construct a simple but charming home with some additions. Using a mishmash of other antiquated but historically unimportant places from the county, she had it reconstructed on the outer perimeter of her land with a pond between the small house and the large. The result was a home she had hoped to make use of for guests or property caretakers. As current caretaker I had two small bedrooms on the main, an open great room and kitchen with a dual stone fireplace. The third bedroom had been recently created from a second floor attic. There was a fireplace in the loft as well and an old fashioned tub.
M y former condo downtown, in an historic building with a modern minimalist interior décor had been a perfect reflection of that aspiring global mogul I had once dreamed of becoming. The cabin revealed the new me, a person who worked to live rather than lived to work. I wasn’t getting rich, but it was surprisingly easy to live without dipping into my savings once I realized the great chasm that is the difference between need and want.
I loved the honeyed wide plank floor boards, the knotted pine cabinets and large windows—which would not have been in keeping with the genuine log
“I don't mean to sound like Mona,” I said car efully, “but should the sheriff's office have let us in there at all? It could have been something contagious right?”
“I guess we'll know shortly,” Lucy said mischievously.
When we dropped off the owl, Lucy took in the impressive clinic and spontaneously wrote the center a generous check. While I was there, I asked how the hawk Anita had brought in was faring. The vet gave me a blank look. “No hawks came in all week.”
I nodded. It wasn't unusual to get a call that didn't result in an animal transfer. Sometimes the birds were DOA, occasionally they were just momentarily stunned and escaped, or we examined and freed them on the spot. I would ask Anita about it later. I hadn’t even been able to inquire how she had come by the wounded owl; taking it to the center and allowing Jared to get back to his interview had been more important.
O nce we returned home I dropped Lucy off at her place, took Mosey out for another walk, and checked on the animals. I replenished their food and water and did my best to get a cursory head count of the hens, checking on Lucy’s horses while I was at it. A few hens appeared to be missing and I had noticed the new neighbor’s dog loitering around the coup. I would have to keep an eye on that.
I headed back to the cabin, pausing to grab a low, strong pin oak tree branch for a moment and throwing in a few chin-ups. This passes for exercise most days unless I go for a swim with Lucy or happen to have music on while I’m cleaning, then I dance. I’m a firm believer that exercise is necessary, but ought to be reasonably fun as well.
O nce inside, I hung all my bras up to dry, shaking my head at Lucy’s constant efforts to market me to Jared, Ben, or whoever else she deemed suitable.
I hadn’t done my bookkeeping for a while so I took care of that while I moved a new job to my phone calendar, and straightened up the house a bit. The cabin is more like home than any place I had been in a long while. The majority of the structure had been taken from an old log schoolhouse and dismantled before people in the county treasured such edifices. Leslie had appreciated it and tried to have the entire building moved to her land, but, bureaucracies being what they are, she just hadn’t moved quickly enough. The developer who had taken it down was the sort who believed it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
L eslie had transported the building materials which weren’t destroyed to her land. Rebuilding the original was hopeless, but the wood was used to construct a simple but charming home with some additions. Using a mishmash of other antiquated but historically unimportant places from the county, she had it reconstructed on the outer perimeter of her land with a pond between the small house and the large. The result was a home she had hoped to make use of for guests or property caretakers. As current caretaker I had two small bedrooms on the main, an open great room and kitchen with a dual stone fireplace. The third bedroom had been recently created from a second floor attic. There was a fireplace in the loft as well and an old fashioned tub.
M y former condo downtown, in an historic building with a modern minimalist interior décor had been a perfect reflection of that aspiring global mogul I had once dreamed of becoming. The cabin revealed the new me, a person who worked to live rather than lived to work. I wasn’t getting rich, but it was surprisingly easy to live without dipping into my savings once I realized the great chasm that is the difference between need and want.
I loved the honeyed wide plank floor boards, the knotted pine cabinets and large windows—which would not have been in keeping with the genuine log