The next morning Michael lay on his back staring up toward the skylight. Snow had accumulated in the corners of the frosted glass. Blue sky barely peeked through the pine trees, which gently shifted in the early morning breeze.
He'd designed this cabin for himself, as soon as he agreed to oversee Marla Osbourne's more elaborate project nearby. That was before he'd agreed to move to Lily Rock and before he knew that he'd stay, once her home reached completion.
He and Marla originally planned an open house for the week before Christmas. The only problem was that Marla was not feeling very well. She'd been brought down by a respiratory virus that activated her allergies. At least that's what Doc Callahan said.
"We can have the open house anytime," Michael had told her, handing over a mug of tea laced with honey and a tablespoon of bourbon.
"Thanks for this." She nodded. "I don't suppose canceling my open house will be any great disappointment to the residents of Lily Rock." She shrugged, putting her mug down on the table.
"You'd be surprised," Michael said. "They may not accept you yet, but curiosity would bring lots of visitors."
"I'd hire a caterer, you know, give the town some business," she said. "But you're right. I don't have the energy to take on that event. Maybe when I'm feeling better."
Thinking of Marla he realized he hadn't spoken to her in a few days. I'd better call her and see how she's feeling. Still in bed, he folded his hands behind his head. Through the skylight he observed a bird balanced on a branch. Hopping from the perch to the glass, it pecked against the ice, making Michael smile. I suppose I'd better get up.
He reached over to grab the cell phone next to the bed. One message had come in from Meadow around 5:30 that morning.
He sat up to text back.
It's been over an hour. I hope she's found him by now. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. It had been cold last night, so he wore a hoodie and thick sweats. Slipping his feet into wool slippers, he made his way down the stairs.
Designed as a one-bedroom, one-bath cabin, Michael slept in the loft. He liked the compact plan of his cabin. Having moved from a spacious high-rise in Chicago, he'd come to appreciate having everything neat and tidy and within easy reach.
Glancing out the window facing the deck, he laughed at the two squirrels standing near the feeder. Tails twitched. One chattered as if to say, bring on the nuts. Michael came closer to slide the door open. He stepped outside into the cold as the squirrels ran up a tree trunk. Bending over, he scooped peanuts into an old mug and emptied it onto the wooden tray.
Closing the container, he stepped back inside and heard the squirrels scrambling back down the tree trunk. By the time he closed the door and stood inside, they were both munching on a peanut.
A mug of tea would taste good right now. But I'd better check outside for Maguire. He walked past the kitchen to the front of his house. Opening the door he found Maguire, who had curled up on the welcome mat, as if he could read and took the sign to include him.
"Hey, Maguire," Michael said. "Meadow is worried about you."
The dog sprang to all four paws, his tongue protruding from his mouth.
"Come on in. I have some food for you." Michael held the door open as Maguire walked past him heading toward the kitchen.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he texted Meadow.
Immediately his phone pinged.
By the time Michael walked to the kitchen, Maguire had already made himself at home. He sat as if at attention, next to the pantry where Michael kept his food. "Okay, I'll feed you, but not until I've made some tea."
It only took a minute to fill the electric kettle with water and turn it on. He plucked a teabag from one of the boxes in his cabinets and dropped it into his mug. Then he bent over to retrieve the dog's bowl from the drawer next to the sink. Stepping closer to the pantry, he found the container with Maguire's food that he'd bought a few months ago. A tin bucket with a top. Scooping the kibble into the bowl, he turned, nearly tripping over the dog.
"I've got this," he said sternly. Maguire sat back on his haunches as if he believed every word. Michael put the bowl down on the floor. "Okay," he told Maguire, watching him spring up to get to his breakfast.
Listening to the crunching, Michael poured boiling water from the kettle over his teabag, filling his mug. He looked out the window over the sink, which faced Marla's house. When she’d suggested that he build himself a cabin, he'd walked the lot and found the perfect location at the back of her expansive lot, giving them both plenty of privacy. The recently installed herb garden, located between the houses, added a buffer. You either had to walk around or walk through two gates to get from the big house to his cabin.
Michael set his mug down. Picking up the phone, he called Meadow.
"Yes, dear," she answered.
"How did he get out this time?" Michael looked at the empty food bowl. "I think he's taking a nap in my bed now," he added.
"Maguire is hard to keep track of nowadays," Meadow admitted. "As you heard, Betty King says he's a nuisance. I wouldn't be surprised if she called animal rescue to pick him up the next time he comes to her shop."
"No way," Michael said. But he had to admit to himself that he could see Betty doing just that. The animal rescue people were notorious for setting hefty fines for dogs they found in Lily Rock. They didn't appreciate having to drive all the way up the hill. "Has he ever been picked up by animal control?" Michael asked.
"Three times," muttered Meadow. "You can bet it cost me a pretty penny. I think Betty would love reporting Maguire, just to make me pay." Meadow's voice shifted. "Maybe Betty's already reported him."
Michael didn't bother to disagree. Betty had a certain way about her that made the hair stand up on his neck. He didn't want to admit she got under his skin, but he didn't want to ignore her either. Not everyone was a kind as Meadow McCloud. Even her harebrained ideas about herbal supplements weren't malicious. She at least meant well.
"I'll keep Maguire for the morning," he said. "Bring him back to you this afternoon. Will you be at Lady or the library?"
"I’ll be at the library around two o'clock. And thank you, dear." Meadow clicked off without another word.