by Debby Mayne
Sherry pretended not to notice Naomi’s sarcasm. “See you later.”
Naomi waved good-bye as she headed for the door. She’d barely opened it when Murray started squawking.
“Be quiet, Murray.”
“Close the door . . . squawk . . . Close the door.”
The sound of Naomi’s laughter echoed through the shop. “Exercise a little patience, Murray. I’m closing it.”
Once Sherry and Murray were alone, she turned to the bird. “We need to have a talk.”
Murray did a little side-step dance on his perch. “Uh-oh . . . squawk . . . Uh-oh. Bad birdie.”
“Yeah, uh-oh. You really need to stop talking so much. I have a business to run here, and I don’t need help from you.”
“Help!. . . squawk . . . Help!”
“Seriously? This is getting ridiculous.” She paused and waited to see Murray’s reaction and what he’d say next.
He stood stone still for about five seconds, and then the sound of a car backfiring reverberated. “Squawk! Bang-bang . . .” Murray fluttered his wings, stiffened, and fell over on his side.
Sherry watched in stunned silence, and when he didn’t move, she ran straight to his cage. “Murray!” She didn’t know much about birds, but he still wasn’t moving, which meant . . . Her heart sank.
“Squawk . . . Bang-bang.” Murray righted himself. “Deader’n a doornail . . . squawk . . . Deader’n a doornail.”
“You scared me half to death.” Sherry stuck her finger into the cage and rubbed Murray’s neck but quickly pulled back in case he decided to bite. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I was worried about you. Do you think you can behave now?” She pulled her hand back and looked him in the eye. “Can you at least try to be nice?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Nice Murray . . . squawk . . . Nice Murray.”
Sherry smiled. “That’s right. You need to be nice. Think you can do that?”
Murray stepped side to side and finally settled down. Sherry hoped that no answer was a good thing. She glanced up at the clock. Two and a half days left, and then she’d be free.
Half an hour later, Samantha, the rental agent at the new apartment complex, called. “I hear you’re thinking about moving soon, and when you were here, you said you might be interested in an apartment with a view.”
“Who told you I was thinking about . . . Did Naomi talk to you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. We don’t currently have any apartments overlooking the lake, but if you’d like to see a garden view, we have several.”
“If I decide to move, I’d really like one with a lake view.”
“Would you like me to add your name to the waiting list, and I’ll call you if one comes vacant?”
Sherry started to say no, but if Samantha told Naomi, she’d be forced into more conversation about moving, so she did what she normally did and took the path of least resistance. “Okay, that’ll be fine.”
“Great! By the way, I met that sweet little Maples family when Naomi brought them by this morning.”
“Did they sign a lease?”
“No.” Samantha sounded truly disappointed. “Not today.”
Sherry had barely hung up when Nan Pickford, one of the part-timers, arrived. “Do you mind closing the shop today? I have to run a few errands.”
“Of course not.” Nan lifted a smock over her head and tied it. “Anything going on I need to know?”
“Not really.”
“I saw Naomi at the bank. She told me you were thinking about moving to those new apartments on the lake. From the road, they look gorgeous!”
“Hey, gorgeous . . . squawk . . . Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hey, there, Murray.” A smile played on Nan’s lips. “I could get used to this.” She laughed. “What’s Andy’s bird doing here?”
“I’m bird-sitting.”
Nan gave her a thumbs-up. “Lucky you.”
A customer entered the store, sending Murray into another squawking fit, but Nan managed to calm him down with a peanut-butter cracker she’d brought for a snack. “Looks like he’ll settle down for food.”
“I’ve noticed.” Sherry lifted the cage and headed home.
He remained quiet all the way to Sherry’s, but once she placed his cage on the kitchen counter, he flapped his wings. “Murray wants candy . . . squawk . . . Murray wants candy.”
Sherry couldn’t imagine why anyone would feed a bird candy, but Murray obviously got his way. “The only thing I have here is maple nut candy. How’s that sound?”
“Yummy candy . . . squawk . . . Yummy candy.”
Sherry cut a couple of maple nut candies into smaller pieces, carried Murray’s cage into the living room, and dropped the candy through the wires. “That oughta take care of your sweet beak.” She patted the top of the cage. “I’ll see you in an hour or two.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Everywhere Sherry stopped—from the bank to the dry cleaner—people asked how Murray was doing. No point in asking how they knew about her bird-sitting, since Naomi had left signs all over town. A bouquet from Naomi’s patio garden rested atop the bank receptionist’s desk, and the clerk at the dry cleaner munched on an oatmeal-raisin-carrot cookie.
Sherry pondered Naomi’s well-meaning interference in her life and wondered if she should try to put a stop to it before the situation got out of hand. She pulled into the driveway that sprouted weeds, which had found their way through the many cracks, and made a mental note to try the hot salt water trick she’d heard about to make them wither. As she got out of her car, she remembered Murray and chuckled. As annoying as that bird was, he could be mighty funny.
The front door whined as she opened it and gave resistance when she tried to close it. She had to turn sideways and give it a shove with her hip.
She braced herself for his loud squawking as she walked through the house, but she was met with silence. An overwhelming sense of dread washed over her. Murray always made noise when doors opened or closed.
“Murray, I’m home.” She headed straight for the living room and instantly saw the open cage door. Murray was missing!
Heart pumping ninety-to-nothing, she ran around the house, shouting, “Murray, are you playing a trick on me? Where are you? This isn’t funny.”
She checked all the bedrooms, the bathroom in the hall, and finally the kitchen. There sat Murray, perched on the edge of the sink, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Murray wants candy . . . squawk . . . Murray wants candy.”
“You scared me half to death.” Sherry jabbed her finger toward the living room. “Now get back in your cage.”
He tilted his head and stared at her. But he didn’t budge from his perch.
“I know you heard me. Go back to your cage. I can’t have you loose in my—”
The house phone rang, sending Murray into a fit of screeches and squawks. Sherry ran to answer it. As she picked it up, Murray chimed in with his own, “Hello?”
Naomi chuckled on the other end of the line. “So how are you enjoying your house guest?”
“He got out of his cage, and now I don’t know how to get him to go back in.”
“Andy says he does that all the time. Why don’t you just pick him up and put him in there?”
“I’ve never . . .” Sherry glanced at Murray as he expanded his wings, shuddered, and brought them back down to his side. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Oh, sweetie, he’s a very sturdy bird. It will probably take two hands, since you’re tiny, but you can do it.”
“I’ll try. Can I call you back?”
“Sure. I just wanted to find out if you talked to Samantha at Fontainebleau. I looked at the apartments after I left the card shop, and I thought they were quite nice
. But go take care of Murray right now, and we can talk later.”
Sherry hung up the phone, sucked in a deep breath, and slowly walked toward Murray. “Okay, you have to understand that you can’t fly around loose in my house. It’s dangerous.”
“Danger . . . squawk . . . Danger is my middle name.”
“Not while you’re in my house, it’s not. Come here, Murray.”
As she got within arm’s reach of him, he stepped a few inches away. Sherry lunged toward him, but she missed when he trotted across the countertop toward the stove.
“Please, Murray. Don’t do this to me. I—” The phone rang again. She lifted a finger and pointed it toward Murray. “Stay right there.”
Not taking her eyes off the bird, she lifted the phone. “Hey, Sherry, this is Andy. How’s my boy?”
“Um . . . he’s okay, I guess.”
“You sound strange. What’s going on?” Andy’s tone tightened. “What happened?”
Sherry didn’t want to worry Andy, but she needed help. “I left for a little more than an hour, and when I came home, he was out of his cage, and he’s in the kitchen. I can’t get him to go back in, no matter what, and—”
Andy laughed. “Is that all? I thought maybe he’d gotten out of the house or something.”
“I’ve been trying to get him back in the cage.”
“Okay, here’s what you do.” Andy spoke in a calming tone. “Show him a treat and lure him back. It might take you a while, but he’ll do pretty much anything for a carrot.”
“He keeps asking for candy.”
“That’s what I call all his treats.” Andy cleared his throat. “I hope you’re not giving him real candy.”
Sherry cleared her throat but didn’t answer.
“How much did you give him?”
“Two pieces. Maple nut candy. Very small.”
Andy sighed. “That’ll probably be okay, but don’t ever do that again.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay, so now you need to get him back in his cage. Here’s what you do. Hold out a carrot slice and show him what you have. Slowly take it to his cage, and he’ll eventually go in there to get it.”
“Okay.” The solution seemed so simple, Sherry felt silly for not thinking of it herself.
“Warning, though. Murray just might fly up and get on your shoulder on the way to the cage. Try not to act startled, or you’ll scare him.”
“Okay.” Sherry rested the phone in the crook of her neck as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carrot. “I’ll give that a try.”
“It should work, but just in case it doesn’t, I’ll call you back in about fifteen minutes.”
Good thing Andy warned her about Murray flying to her shoulder because the instant he saw what she had, that’s exactly what he did. She grimaced but tried hard not to tense her body.
“Murray wants candy . . . squawk . . . Murray wants candy.”
She held up the carrot so he could see it better. “I have your candy right here, Murray, but you have to go into your cage to eat it.” She couldn’t believe how easily she managed to get him in there. The second he started nibbling on the carrot, she closed the door and secured the latch.
Andy called back. “Did it work?”
“Yes, and now you need to tell me how to keep this from happening again.”
“I wish I could, but he’s a smart bird. My sister got him as a baby, and she spent a tremendous amount of time with him, so he loves attention. And when he doesn’t get it, he misbehaves and gets out of the cage to get your attention.”
“There has to be a way to keep it latched. Isn’t there a birdcage lock or something?”
“The one time I tried doing that, he went crazy, fluttering around his cage, dropping feathers, and screaming.” Andy sighed. “It made him very sick. The only thing you can do is make him want to stay in there.”
“What else will make him want to stay besides carrots?”
“His mirror. Sometimes it flips over, and he can’t see himself.”
Sherry glanced in the cage. “That’s precisely what happened. What else?”
“He likes a lot of things.”
“Hold on, let me get a pencil so I can write it all down.”
After he finished rattling off the things that would make Murray happy in his cage, Andy reminded her to straighten the mirror.
She put the phone down and placed her hand on the cage door. Murray stopped eating and looked at her.
“I won’t take your . . . candy. I just want to fix your mirror.” Her heart hammered as she slowly opened the door and stuck her hand inside, praying that Murray wouldn’t get the urge to bite. She’d seen enough scratches on Andy to know how sharp that beak was. Fortunately it only took one swift movement to flip the mirror.
As quickly as she could, she pulled her hand out and secured the latch on the door. Murray dropped the carrot and sidestepped toward the mirror, looked at his image, and ruffled his feathers. “Hey there, handsome . . . squawk . . . Hey there, handsome.”
Maybe Murray would freak out if she put a lock on his cage, but she had to find a way to keep him contained, or she’d be the one freaking out. The only thing she could think of was to put him in one of the smaller bedrooms and keep the door closed.
It sounded like a good idea, until her bedtime, when his squawking and hollering echoed throughout the house. Sherry grabbed the extra pillow from the other side of the bed and plopped it over her ear. Murray was obviously not happy having his own room.
No matter what position she tried, nothing could drown the loud squawking. Finally, she got up to see about him. The second she opened the door, he stopped squawking and started singing, “Good morning, merry sunshine . . . squawk . . . Good morning, merry sunshine.”
“No, Murray, it’s not morning.” She rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced around the room, racking her brain for an idea, but nothing brilliant came to her. “Okay, let’s try putting you in my room.”
She removed a few items from her dresser top and placed the cage in the middle, right in front of the large mirror. Darkness fell over the room, but maybe he’d see himself first thing in the morning and give her some peace. Then she crawled back into bed, holding her breath, praying Murray would let her get some sleep. To her pleasant surprise, he remained quiet throughout the night . . . until the crack of dawn, when he started singing his merry sunshine song again.
“Okay, okay, Murray. I’m awake.” She got up, grabbed her bathrobe off the door hook, and turned to face Murray. “What do you want for breakfast?” The instant she said those words she realized how ridiculous it was. “Never mind. You’re getting apples and birdseed.”
“Murray wants candy . . . squawk . . . Murray wants candy.”
“I’ll give you some bird candy.” She lifted the cage to take to the kitchen then thought better of it and put it back down on the dresser. “And I’ll bring it in here, where you’re going to stay. I can’t have you flying about the house when I’m gone.”
“Uh-oh . . . squawk . . . Bad birdie.”
“You got that right.”
Halfway to the kitchen, she remembered to go back and close the door. No point in tempting Murray.
She prepared a cup of food for the bird and carried it back to her room. When she opened the door, she caught him looking at himself in the mirror. “Hello, handsome . . . squawk . . . Lookin’ good, young man.”
The image before her was hilarious, but she refused to laugh at Murray and egg him on. He needed to know who was in charge, and the slightest hint of giving in might usurp what little authority she had over him. Sherry suspected Murray might have gotten spoiled by some of the firefighters, since he spent so much time at the fire hall. She laughed at the thought of the town’s brave heroes catering to a bird ju
st to keep him from squawking at all hours of the day or night.
“Here’s your breakfast. I have some errands to run this morning, but I . . . we . . . have to go to the card shop this afternoon because Nan is watching one of her grandkids.”
Murray didn’t say another word, so Sherry enjoyed the silence as she got ready for the day. While she ran her errands, she thought about how different the atmosphere in her home was with another living creature there with her. As annoying as Murray could be, she really didn’t mind the company, at least when he kept his beak shut.
The sound of his loud squawking when she turned the key in the lock reassured her that he hadn’t found a way to leave the house. To her relief, he was still in his cage when she entered her bedroom.
“Lonely boy . . . squawk . . . Lonely boy.”
“I know. But don’t you worry. I’m taking you to work with me as soon as we have a bite of lunch.”
It was a sad day in Bloomfield when a middle-aged woman’s best conversation was with a bird.
“Murray wants candy . . . squawk . . . Murray wants candy.”
This promised to be one long afternoon. Sherry lifted her hand to grasp the cage handle, paused, looked Murray in the eye, and sighed. “Let’s go to work. I’ll give you some candy when we get there.”
“La-la-la-la-la-la.”
Sherry chuckled. “So you’re singing now? I suppose that’s the sign of a happy bird.”
“So happy I could bust . . . squawk . . . So happy I could bust.”
His happiness lasted throughout most of the afternoon, with the help of some Murray candy. He ate one carrot after another, until Andy called to check on him.
“You gave him how many?” Before she had a chance to reply, he continued. “Stop. He’ll get a tummy ache, and when Murray gets sick . . . hoo-boy, he’s a miserable fella to be around.”
Oh, great. “He’s eating one right now . . . and there’s another one on the bottom of the cage.”
“Take it away from him.”
Sherry leaned over to get a better look at the carrot that Murray worked on. “I don’t want to get bitten.”
