“Hello, Mr. Laninga.” She stopped a few feet away to give him space.
He whirled around, crumpling the paper in his fist. His eyes flashed for a second, then dropped to the ground. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Nice to see you, too. What have you got there?”
He shoved it in his pocket. “Nothing.”
“Okaaay.” She jerked a thumb at the barn. “I was heading in there. Is that all right?”
“Sure, sure.” He waved an arm absent-mindedly. “Do whatever you want. I was just leaving.”
He was clearly in a sour mood. Even so, she couldn’t help but ask, “Where are you going?”
He looked at her for the first time. Squinted at her bulging cat-filled hoodie. Rubbed his chin. “I need to find a rooster.”
“A rooster?”
“Yep.”
She had no experience with farm animals. “Do they sell those at the pet store or . . . ?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Have you tried Craigslist? You can find anything on Craigslist.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who’s Craig?”
Oh, this was just too much. She smiled. “No one. It’s an online thing. People post stuff for sale or for free so other people can find it.” She pulled out her phone and brought up the website, then held it out to him. “See?”
“Well?” He raised his eyebrows. “They got any roosters on there?”
A quick search revealed several possibilities. Two that were local.
“There’s one on Meadow Lane for free. And one down at Cole’s Corner, but I don’t think you’d want that one.”
He perked up. “Why not?”
She pointed at the screen. “Says here they’re getting rid of it because it’s too loud and obnoxious. ‘Would be more comfortable out in the country.’”
“That sounds perfect.” A mischievous light sparked in his eyes. “Let’s go. And you can call me Gerrit.”
He jogged over to his back door before she could wonder how she had gotten roped into this strange adventure. He’d hardly even heard her address him when she’d first arrived and now they were teaming up for something? With a sudden spring in his step, he grabbed a set of keys from inside the door and strode to his truck.
She watched him. “I don’t think my mom would approve of my calling you Gerrit.”
Rae’s mother had spent her whole life insisting Rae use the proper terms of respect for everyone, just like the great Judge Tom McDaniel had taught her. Good practice for the courtroom and all that. Rae was used to it by now, and even kind of liked it. When she addressed the folks at the nursing home by their proper titles, it gave them some of their dignity back.
He reached the driver’s door and looked back at her. “When someone tells you what they prefer to be called, it’s impolite to refuse them, Miss Walters.” He held up the keys and shook them. “Get in. I’ll drive.”
Well, that was unnecessary. She sucked in her lips. He had some nerve bossing her around. All she wanted to do was duck into the barn and contemplate life with her cat. But her curiosity won out.
“Better call me Rae, then.” She opened the passenger side door. “And Mr. Whiskers gets to come this time.”
Gerrit looked at her squirming sweatshirt. “Is he trained?”
She got into the truck with a smirk. “He won’t poop in here, if that’s what you mean.”
She adjusted the seat belt so the lap strap tucked underneath Mr. Whiskers and the shoulder strap fit above him. He protested mildly when Gerrit turned the key and the engine fired up, but then he settled in.
As they pulled onto the road, she peered through the window at the neighbor’s mailbox. It was standing upright as if nothing had ever happened. She should say something about it, maybe thank Gerrit for fixing it for her, but she hated to bring it up. Especially when his mood seemed to be improving.
Maybe she should talk about something else instead.
“How was your day?”
He concentrated on the road as if he hadn’t heard her. He could at least turn on the radio. She fidgeted in her seat.
“Is your wife working today?”
Nothing. It was worse than talking to Morgan at Community Hope. In fact, the two of them had a lot in common. Surliness, for one thing. Well, she wasn’t giving up that easily.
“What’s her name?”
He made a right-hand turn and glanced over at her. “Hannie.”
She tilted her head. “That’s a pretty name. Unusual.”
“It’s Dutch.”
“Do you have any kids?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, his face clouded over. Did his strained relationship with his wife have something to do with their kids? She couldn’t help him if she didn’t have all the facts. Dad said it was in her blood to interrogate people.
“What are their names?”
He frowned. She was prying, but he’s the one who wanted her to come along. If he had wanted to make the drive in utter silence, if he’d wanted to avoid all her questions, he should’ve gone to find a rooster all by himself.
“How old are they?” She was doing it on purpose now. “Do they live nearby?”
They were close to Cole’s Corner. He would need her to tell him the address soon or the whole trip would be a waste. He gave her a questioning look, and she raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t giving him anything until he answered at least one question.
“Evi is thirty and Noah is twenty-seven, okay?” He huffed. “Happy?”
She stuck her nose up in a self-satisfied way. “Turn left on Bower. We’re looking for number eighteen. Green house.”
He made the turn. Her thoughts drifted to the piece of paper he had stuck in his pocket earlier. What could it have been?
At house number eighteen, they pulled up to find a buxom woman waiting by the garage. Rae had texted the number from the ad and let them know they were coming. The woman wore heavy-duty work gloves and held a trembling cardboard box in her arms.
Gerrit stepped out of the truck.
The woman hurried over and thrust the box at
