“How many pies did you make for him?” Jack asked, spooning up more beef and beans from the bottom of his chili bowl.
“I made fifty pies. I wanted to make sure he had plenty to sell.” My friends widen their eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, but I made them over a period of a month.”
“You should get free meals for all that,” Trisha said, dipping a half roll into her chili.
“I am. This is my treat. I know Bosloe keeps track.”
“Good, I just can’t see you laboring on all those pie in a few days,” Jack said.
Colin came back over to refill the coffee mugs.
“Oh, did you know about the accident on one of the cruise ships?” he asked.
I scooped up another spoonful of beef and a carrot into my mouth. The warm savory flavor had that special onion flavor I love so much.
“No, what happened?” I asked not really wanting him to answer me.
“Two men fell overboard. I think the ship was the Swedish Star,” he replied.
Trisha and I looked at each other and we continued to eat our lunch.
Chapter 4
Fin and Cal
After lunch, Jack and Thyla dropped me and Trisha off at my house. She followed me in up to my front door.
“Well, I see Larry’s car is outside. He must be home. I’ll fix him some lunch if he hasn’t eaten yet. Then I’ll have to start packing,” she said, glancing up at the gray clouds competing for space in the sky.
“Ugh, I still have to decide what to bring.”
“Don’t bring a lot. Tshirts are cheap all over the islands and I want to buy some new jewelry. I hope the weather clears during our flight. Talk to you later,” she said, waving goodbye.
“Thanks,” I replied and as I inserted my key, I could hear Mickie sniffing and whining behind the front door.
“Just me, fella,” I said to him as I edged into the entryway and walked into my living room. I shut and locked the door behind me, and then I removed my wet boots to set them on my water-catching neoprene mat.
My brick home is one of those row houses built in the 1960’s, strong enough to last longer than a lifetime. Henry and I remodeled the interior, adding new appliances in the last few years before he died. After I became friends with Hobs and his odd assortment of acquaintances, odd events around my home began to occur.
It all started when my hallway ceiling light fell. Last October, I learned of the tiny fairies from a world Hobs had discovered underground. They had tampered with the ceiling screws. Then Hobs bore a hole in my basement bedroom to help me and his friends escape a fire and a horrible witch.
I could go on and on, but I can’t remain irritated at him forever. He does try his best to help out when I get in trouble. He tells me he’s older than anyone but he’s pretty sharp for whatever age he claims to be. I hope he’s happy now that he found a world that won’t harass him much because of his short stature.
According to Hobs, I have a gift. It’s not a welcomed gift when I can see Hobs’ friends and my other friends can’t. I don’t talk about them due to the funny looks I get, except with Trisha. She seems to understand. Why did this come upon my shoulders? I don’t know. It started after the death of my husband and the stress that followed. Something changed within me. I perceive things that live on the edge of our physical world. Now, I’m Christian, mind you, but when I saw the fairyland under the abandoned warehouse downtown and its inhabitants, I have to believe they exist. That’s just the way I am.
I removed my jacket and walked into the kitchen to hang it on one of the hooks in a row on the stairwell wall. I turned off the light to the stairs to my right and checked my back door bolt to make sure the door was secure before I stepped back into my kitchen.
I put my kettle on the stove to heat up some water for tea or hot chocolate for guests that would drop in. You never know who’s going to stop by my home. That done, I retreated back into my living room, turned right down the hallway, and headed for the master bedroom to my left. Mickie trotted after me.
Upon the death of my husband, my little poodle followed me everywhere until I started feeling better. I guess he could sense there was something wrong. Trisha helped me out during the funeral and all during the next month taking care of my dog, making sure I ate when I didn’t feel like it, and having someone mow my lawn. I could have never made life work without her.
I looked over my note page I had left on my vanity counter in the bedroom and at my empty suitcase still lying on the end of the bed. I slipped off the hangers two of my favorite blouses.
“What do you think, Mickie, blue or blue?” I asked him as I held the two garments close to my chin, looking in the vanity mirror.
Each one had a different shade of blue. As a blond, my color choices limits me to certain shades that are flattering. Red is not an option. Brown maybe, I told myself as I searched for my dark brown blouse with the silky light material.
“Slacks. Let’s see. The ones I’m wearing will do for the flight over, but I should pack a couple more that are dressier,” I chatted on to Mickie as he sat on the floor cocking his ears up at me. Then the front doorbell rang. I laid my chosen clothes over the edge of the suitcase while my little soldier dog ran ahead barking his head off.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I shouted as I hurried down the hallway. I turned
