Firefly Summer

Sailor hurriedly packed the food she’d made into the new cooler she’d bought and then carried it out and loaded it in the back of her car. The food would be fine—she only had one stop to make along the way—but she worried that Piper wouldn’t have enough room in her fridge for everything, and having an extra cooler around would only be helpful. She went back into the kitchen and looked around one last time as Mister Breeze sauntered in from the bedroom. “What’s it going to be, sir, in or out?” she asked, holding the door open for him. “I’m going to be gone all day.” He swished between her legs and stood on the threshold, peering outside and blinking at the sunshine. “That’s all right. Take your time,” she said. “I’m not in any hurry.” The orange cat—who had put on a little weight and whose coat was getting shiny—stretched his front legs with his butt in the air and then stepped gingerly outside. “Good choice,” she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder and stepping out behind him. She closed the door and knelt down to stroke his head. “I’ll be back tonight.” He pushed his head up into her hand, purring, and then hopped up into one of the chairs and stretched out in the sunshine.

Twenty minutes later, Sailor was perusing the shelves of Birdie’s favorite package store when Alec—the young new owner with the French accent that Birdie thought was cute—came up behind her. “Where is your sister?” he asked with concerned eyes. “I haven’t seen her in long time.”

He nodded and turned to another customer who was waiting to ask a question. Sailor turned away at the same time to look at the beers and promptly bumped into another customer. “Oops, I’m sorry,” she said, almost dropping the wine bottles. She clutched them to her chest and looked up. “Oh, hi!” she said, her face lighting up.

“I’m looking for something to take to a picnic for my brother-in-law—who just got out of the hospital . . . although I’m not sure if he can have beer yet.” She looked at the come-hither look of the nurse on the label and smiled. “That would be perfect! Where’d you find it?”

Sailor suddenly felt bad. “I know just how you feel,” she said sympathetically. “My sister always has a big family picnic around the Fourth—it’s been a tradition forever—and my kids and grandkids always come, but this year, my ex invited them to Maine. I still can’t believe they’re not coming.”