She’d just stepped through the door between the back storage area and the hallway that led to the kitchen when the lights suddenly went out.
Molly froze.
She quietly put the grocery bag on the ground.
I’m glad I brought the nonperishables. If I have to make a run for it, at least I won’t leave fresh food that would attract ants—or worse.
She listened. She could hear footsteps outside, but no voices. She flattened herself against the wall as she saw one of the door handles jiggle. Then she heard sounds she couldn’t identify: a quick clank followed by a heavy swoosh and a snap. She heard the same rotation a few more times around the building.
Clank!
Swoosh!
Snap!
As the sound got further away, Molly crawled to the nearest window. Kneeling on the floor, she lifted her eyes to window level and peeked out.
Molly sat back against the wall, hyperventilating.
It was Quinn. He was making his way around the building, attaching heavy-duty locks to all the doors and windows! Molly had to get out before she was locked in.
She crawled along the floor, mentally saying goodbye to twenty dollars’ worth of crackers and cereal, and headed for the back door. She glanced in at her possessions hidden in the back corner of the storage unit. Unless Quinn was doing a thorough inspection of the place, her stuff was probably safe for now.
She leapt out the back door just as Quinn made his way around the building, several U-shaped locks draped over his arm like a bunch of gaudy S&M bracelets. One look at the locks and Molly knew her lock-picking skills would never measure up. There was nowhere to hide. Quinn was looking right at her.
“Hey, Molly,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m…” Molly had to think of something quickly.
What the hell could she possibly be doing up here? Except…
“I was looking for you,” she said.
Quinn gave her his lopsided smile. She knew the answer made no sense, but Quinn did love to talk about himself.
“Well, you found me,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” she said. “Well, I’ve got to go.”
Molly took a stepped to her car, but Quinn stepped in front of her. She looked into his heart-stopping eyes.
“What did you want?” he asked.
“Want?”
“Yes. You said you were looking for me. You must have wanted something?”
Molly thought this could all be an amazingly seductive conversation if she were somebody else, but right now, she could feel perspiration starting to circle her underarms and down her spine. She couldn’t have willed an enticing comment if her life depended on it.
“Oh,” Molly said. “Yes. I guess that’s true. I must want something.”
Quinn waited, locks clenched on his forearm.
“Do you want me to guess?” Quinn asked with a smile.
“No! I was looking for you so I could give you this…”
She held out the key, covering her bets should Crabby ever mention giving it to her. Quinn took it, looking at it disdainfully.
“I can’t believe my uncle relied on this little key to secure his restaurant,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “The old goat.”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “What an old goat.”
She felt disloyal, but what could she do?
“I have to get this place locked up,” Quinn said. “I heard rumors that lights were going off and on here. I want to make sure some homeless guy doesn’t take this place being empty as an opportunity to squat.”
Squat.
Molly cringed. What a horrible word.
Molly stood rooted to the spot.
“Anything else?” Quinn asked.
Molly decided she might as well go for broke.
“Yes,” she said. “I saw Manny today. He says he needed to get a part-time job at Gilbert’s.”
“So he said.”
“So…I was wondering…since I’ve been working for you for two weeks myself…”
“If I was going to pay you? And how much?”
Molly gulped.
“Yes,” she squeaked.
“How much do you need?” Quinn asked, pulling out a roll of bills from his pocket.
“I don’t know.” Molly stared at the money. “I was hoping for…”
She paused. What could she ask for?
“I want you to be happy, Molly,” Quinn said, peeling off several bills. “I worry about you.”
He handed her the money.
“I better get going,” Molly said. “Thanks for the money, Quinn.”
“No problem,” Quinn said. “I had a good night last night at the tables. Happy to spread the love, you know?”
Molly got in the car. She counted the crisp Benjamin Franklins in her hand.
She started the engine and headed out of the parking lot. Her first paycheck wouldn’t cover the back rent, but she might be able to rent a room somewhere for Galileo and herself. She looked sadly at the restaurant in the rearview mirror as Quinn made his way around, locking every possible entrance.
Unless Quinn discovered her stuff in the storage area.
She decided to stop and see Bale. Driving across town, she found herself following a violet Ford F-150 truck. Molly knew the truck didn’t belong to a local and she could see that there was a woman behind the wheel. She watched as the truck turned ahead of her into Bale’s Tiny Dreams.
The way Bale snapped to attention when he saw the truck didn’t look as if this were business as usual.
Molly drove past the lot.
Chapter 12
Molly was frantic by the time she pulled in to her apartment complex. By tomorrow night, she needed to hand Mr. Detman the keys—or fight the eviction. She knew she could buy herself some time, but the eviction was totally valid. She was over three months late with the rent. It was easy to make excuses for storing stuff at Crabby’s (“It’s not hurting anybody”) and taking cash instead of a payroll check (“I can settle with the IRS at the end of the year”), but she just didn’t want to keep chipping away at her ethical core.
But she had nowhere to go.
Molly opened her trunk and looked inside. She had the perishable groceries, the inflatable pool float, food for Galileo, her binoculars, and a heap of clothes and two large beach towels. Upstairs, she had Galileo in his oversized cage, a portable cage and perch, and her tree house model. That was it.
Maybe she should consult a lawyer? Try to stay in the apartment? But all her stuff was at Crabby’s. There didn’t seem to be any real solution. A voice startled her out of her deliberation.
“Hi, Molly.”
It was Mr. Detman.
Just looking at him made her feel guilty.
“Hi, Mr. Detman,” she said.
“Are you all set?” he asked in his hangdog way. “For tomorrow?”
Molly decided she needed to make a decision here and now. She basically wanted to say, “Bite me,” but knew that wouldn’t solve anything. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say, but finally—looking down at “Determination,” “Fortitude,” and “Grit” still a ghost on her hand—she made her decision.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
Why had she said that? She needed all the time she could get.
“I mean,” she quickly backtracked, “I’ll be leaving after work tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine,” Mr. Detman said. “I wish things could have worked out differently.”
“Me too.”
Boy, was that the understatement of the year.
Mr. Detman turned to leave. Molly slammed her trunk and called after him.
Was she really going to say this?
“Mr. Detman, I was wondering if you might be able to keep the big cage for me for a while. I don’t have room for it….”
She was about to say “in my new place,” but decided “I don’t have room for it” worked just fine.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I think Romeo and Lancelot would love it.”
“I’m sure they would,” Mr. Detman said, sounding as shocked as Molly felt. “That’s very kind of you. And I understand it’s just on loan until—”
“Exactly,” Molly cut him off. “I’ll leave the cage and the keys when I…when I finish moving out tomorrow. Thanks.”
“Thank you! I can’t wait to tell the boys. Maybe they’ll come around a little more when I show them their new digs.”
Molly’s heart squeezed. What was she going to do with Galileo? He hated the small cage.
Mr. Detman disappeared into the complex. Molly grabbed some cheese and the inflatable float and headed up to her apartment to face the music.
And her African Grey.
She flicked on the light and stared at Galileo. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the bad news. She gave him a few sunflower seeds along with his nightly vegetables, knowing full well that when she uprooted his life, he would not remember this goodwill gesture.
* * * *
The sun found the weak spot in Molly’s blackout curtains and poked her in the eye with a long slender ray. Molly sat up, aware immediately that this was her final morning in a real bed. As she thought about the words she would write on her hand on her very last morning in the apartment, she paused to choose them carefully. She knew she needed words that would spur her to action—nothing wishy-washy like “Kindness” or “Laughter.” She needed robust words that would get her facing her challenges fearlessly.
Fearless.
That was a good word.
She followed up with:
Motivated.
She had to stay strong and motivated. This wasn’t an easy task considering what a train wreck her life was right now. Even if she was facing an uphill battle. She just needed to think outside the box. She looked at her hand. To fit “Thinking outside the box,” she’d have to start writing at her elbow. “Think outside the box”? “Think outside box”? She bit her bottom lip in frustration. She needed to think outside the box right now! She smiled as she uncapped her pen. The word she needed was:
Innovative.
She looked down at her hand:
Fearless
Motivated
Innovative
They were exactly the words she needed.
“Get ready for an adventure,” she called to Galileo as she headed out the door.
“Amen, brother,” Galileo said from his perch.
Molly felt guilty that she used such an upbeat tone, hoping to fool Galileo with false cheer. African Greys were among the most intelligent of birds and easily picked up on human emotion. If Galileo understood that Molly was giving away his beautiful cage, he’d be cursing like a sailor.
Molly made sure she was at the tree farm early, in case Quinn wanted to head over to Beamer’s for breakfast. It was impossible to tell when Quinn would show up. He prided himself on being “flexible with time.”
He was standing by Old Paint, one foot up on the landing skid. He smiled as she pulled in front of the office. She got out of the car as nonchalantly as she could.
“Hey, Quinn,” she said.
“Up for a ride?”
* * * *
Flying above the countryside with Quinn made everything better. They never talked in Old Paint, just exchanged appreciative glances as they pointed out the sun glinting off the river or chestnut-colored thoroughbreds racing across a blue-green field. Life always seemed surreal when she was with Quinn. It was only when she was literally set back on earth that the reality of her life smacked her upside the head.
“The usual?” called Marni, Beamer’s redheaded waitress.
Quinn nodded with a grin and a thumbs-up as he escorted Molly to “their” table. Molly loved that she was getting to be a regular. It crossed her mind that at the end of day today, she and Galileo would be out on their ears, but thanks to Quinn she had enough money to get a hotel room for a day or two, until she could figure things out.
“So, Molly,” Quinn said as the coffee was poured.
Molly stiffened. He sounded very serious. Was he going to ask her for a date? At least, a more official date than Beamer’s?
“Wow, the coffee is really hot this morning,” Molly stalled, suddenly nervous. “Maybe some cream will cool it down.”
Molly asked Quinn to pass the bowl of creamers. She usually stayed away from highly processed food items, but this appeared to be an emergency.
“Oh, they have French vanilla,” she said, wagging a little cup of creamer at Quinn. “My favorite.”
Quinn sat looking at her, tattooed arms folded across his chest. Marni set their breakfast plates down.
“Would you like anything else?” Marni asked.
“Not at the moment, beautiful,” Quinn replied with a wink.
“Oh, you,” she trilled. Marni flushed to match her hair. Her finger bounced off Quinn’s arm as she poked his bicep.
Molly watched the interaction with interest. Quinn couldn’t possibly be flirting with Marni, could he? She had to be a million years old—or at least fifty. Quinn flirted a lot. But Molly didn’t take it seriously. After all, he wasn’t having breakfast with anyone else. He wasn’t flying in his helicopter with anyone else. He wasn’t overpaying anyone else to identify stumps and plant seedlings.
“So, Molly…” Quinn began again when Marni had sashayed away.
“Yes,” Molly said, then added, to show she understood this might be serious, “Quinn.”
“You’ve done a great job with the seedlings and the transplants.”
Oh my god! He’s firing me!
* * * *
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Bale said as Violet Green stepped out of her truck.
He was surprised how much he meant it. He had not expected to connect with her again so soon.
“I’ve got a new job in Tennessee,” she said. “I thought I’d stop by on my way and check out your merchandise.”
Bale opened his mouth and shut it again. He wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Was she flirting? Should he say something like, “What did you have in mind?” But maybe she wasn’t being flirty. Maybe he should just be all business.
He really hated these situations.
“Come on into the office,” he said.
That sounded safe enough.
She smiled. That seemed to be a good answer. As she locked her truck, Thor came bouncing up.
“Thor!” she said, kneeling down to Thor-level. They drenched each other with kisses. “How’s my darling man? Did you miss me? I missed you.”
Bale ran his fingers through his hair. Was she really talking about him, not Thor? He looked at his dog, who stared back at him, as if to say, “Get over yourself. This is about me.”
Bale was more than willing to go with that. It made him much less nervous. As they threaded their way through the tiny houses, Violet seemed to appreciate every model they passed. Bale’s nerves calmed. He could talk about tiny houses—why they were getting popular, what made his special—forever and never get tongue-tied. That was one of the reasons he felt so at home with Molly. There was always so much to talk about.
He tried to shove Molly from his mind. When she wouldn’t go, he managed to visualize her heading into a maze that would at least keep her occupied for a few hours.
He turned his full attention to Violet.
Chapter 13
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked. “You’re white as a ghost.”
Molly could only nod.
“Do you need some water
?” he asked.
“No,” Molly said, hoarsely. “I’m fine. Really. So…we’re done with the seedlings, huh?”
“Yep. Time to move on.”
“Of course,” Molly said. “I get that.”
Breathe, breathe, breathe, Molly told herself.
“You know, once the big push of getting the seedlings and transplants is done…”
“You’ve got to prune—metaphorically.”
“Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”
“I do,” she said. “I’m just surprised it’s so soon.”
“It really isn’t that soon,” Quinn said, adding sugar to his coffee. “In June, we need to start pruning the trees over two feet tall, so they grow into the perfect shape for a Christmas tree.”
“Wait,” Molly said, putting her hand on Quinn’s arm. “You’re talking about pruning trees?”
“What else would I be talking about in June?”
Molly took her hand back. She knew Quinn must think she was acting strangely, but she wasn’t about to blurt out that she thought he meant it was time to prune her! Why put any ideas in his head? She relaxed.
“I could help with that!”
“I don’t think so,” Quinn said.
The tiny whisper of hope evaporated like a soap bubble.
“I could! I can prune,” Molly said. “Seriously. I…”
She tried to come up with some sort of skill she had that remotely translated to pruning Christmas trees but couldn’t think of anything.
“It takes a trained eye and a practiced hand.”
Molly looked down at the table. So he was firing her.
She still needed to be out of her place tonight, and now she wasn’t going to have a paycheck. She was getting further and further behind on her tree house and she was not going to get any “pet owner of the year” award, not knowing how she was going to take care of Galileo.
How could her life suck this much?
“So I was thinking,” Quinn interrupted her thoughts. “Maybe you might be into fir cone picking?”
“Fir cone…?”
“Fir cone picking,” Quinn said, sipping his coffee. “You know what pine cones are, right?”
Tiny House in the Trees Page 9
