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Andee nearly mowed Flynn down in her haste to meet his seemingly equally excited dog.
“So it is you,” Flynn said, taking off his mirrored sunglasses as he approached Jenna. “I figured it had to be,” he muttered. “After you left I received a fax from my landlord. Oscar Martin said he’d sold everything and now I owe my rent to the woman who bought him out.”
“You? You rent the house in town?” Jenna’s jaw went slack.
Flynn ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Seems so,” he said. Then, as if seeing the other man for the first time, Flynn glanced from him to Jenna and asked, “Is there a problem here?”
She ran an eye over the lean yet muscular pilot who no doubt would come to her rescue if she needed help. But she hadn’t come here to rely on another man.
She’d gone from relying on her dad, to relying on Andrew, to relying on Rob and Melody. A single mother at thirty-one, it was time she took care of herself.
“No problem,” she said. “Mr. Winkleman was just leaving.”
“That I am.” Stalking to his pickup, he yanked open the door and vaulted inside. “You owe me half a day’s wages!”
He slammed the door, started the pickup with a roar and cut the wheels in such a tight turn, he scattered sand in his wake.
Flynn reached out to shield Andee and Beezer from flying dirt.
Sputtering in indignation, Jenna rushed to help. “Andee, honey, are you okay? That was uncalled for,” she said, using both hands to dust off Beezer’s shaggy fur.
“What was that about?” Flynn asked, staring after the truck.
She shrugged. “He worked for Mr. Martin and I let him go. I expect he was blowing steam. Is there something you needed other than to introduce yourself?”
Flynn twisted his lips to one side. “I hate to start our business dealings with a complaint...”
She suppressed a groan. Could this day get much worse?
“But when I went home for lunch, my air conditioner was making funny noises. Before I finished eating, it quit. The house is small, so it didn’t take long to feel like an oven inside. I climbed up on the roof to take a look at the unit—”
“You what? You can’t just... I mean, I would be liable if—”
“I know about all there is to know about an airplane, but I’m afraid I know nothing about air conditioners. It’s leaking. I couldn’t tell from where.”
A knot balled in Jenna’s stomach. Because she’d had to deplete her savings to buy out Oscar Martin, and because Andrew’s death benefits were being held up, she was short of working capital. Everything had cost more than she’d budgeted. The property. The insurance. The Jeep. Even groceries. The last thing she needed after her unsettling encounter with Don Winkleman was another costly problem.
Tugging on her bottom lip, she organized her thoughts. “I’m not familiar with any of the reputable businesses in town. I guess I can check with my Realtor. Do you know a repair service that can send someone to take a look at it?”
“I do.”
“Wonderful. If you don’t mind calling them, since you’ll no doubt need to arrange to be home to let them inside, I’d appreciate it.”
She took the grocery receipt out of her pocket, ripped off one end and jotted her cell number on the back.
“Now, I really have to put my groceries away. And with Winkleman gone, I have chores that need doing.” She struggled a moment with panic, realizing chores she’d never done before and repairing things like Sutton’s air conditioner were suddenly all on her. “If you’ll ask the repair person to call me with an estimate, I’m sure we can get you fixed up ASAP,” she said, not feeling confident at all.
Flynn took the paper and tucked it into a side pocket in his camo pants.
She tried not to think how fine he looked in the T-shirt and pants. How well toned.
He opened the door to his truck and snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come on, Beezer, we gotta go.”
Plainly, Andee was reluctant to release her grip on the big dog. “When can Beezer come to visit again?” she asked. “I wanted Mommy to buy him some doggy bones at the store. She made me put them back ’cause she said Beezer wouldn’t come to our house.” Her tone was decidedly accusatory.
Jenna averted her eyes from the scene as her daughter finally let go of Flynn’s pet and the dog leaped into the pickup.
“Oh, wait,” she said as Flynn started to join his pet. “It’s silly since I own the house, and somewhere in the stuff I got from Mr. Rhodes is the address. I really should make time to drive by and have a look at it.”
“Sure thing.” Flynn reached into his glove box. He plucked out a business card, turned it over and wrote his address. “It’s a dollhouse compared to this place,” he said, handing Jenna the card. Their fingers brushed and they both pulled back so fast the card fluttered to the ground.
Flynn scooped it up. He continued to eye her home as he extended the card by its edge. “Your place is big for two people. It’s pretty remote, too. But, hey, I guess Oscar lived here alone.”
In Jenna’s estimation he could have kept those comments about her home being remote to himself. After all, she was still somewhat disturbed by Don Winkleman’s attitude.
“It’s more space than Andee and I are used to,” she said, tucking her daughter against her right thigh. “We’re going to be happy here, aren’t we, munchkin?” She ran a finger down Andee’s dusty nose.
“We’ve got lots of room for Beezer or a dog like him,” the girl announced, causing Jenna to blush.
Flynn laughed. “G’bye.” He again headed for his pickup and it was the first time Jenna noticed he walked with a limp. She wondered what his story was.
She watched as he got into his pickup and shoved the dog over. He closed the door and rolled down the window, waving as he made a slower turnaround than the one Winkleman had.
Beezer leaned around his master, stuck his big head out the window and barked, his ears flapping.
At the sound of her daughter’s joyous response, Jenna vowed to call Oscar Martin that night to ask if a dog might scare the birds.
CHAPTER THREE (#u68689750-6316-5a01-8976-ea7e8a9c26de)
“DO YOU THINK Beezer can have a sleepover with me sometime?” Andee sounded hopeful as she peered up at Jenna.
“Probably not, honey. I don’t think dogs understand what’s enjoyable about a sleepover. Not like kids do. Hey, we have groceries to take into the house.” Jenna went to the Cherokee and lifted out two bags. “Will you grab the milk, please?”
“Okay.” The girl kicked at the dust on the way to the vehicle.
“I know our new home doesn’t have kids nearby to play with. But I’m sure you’ll like helping out with the ostriches.”
“What can I do with them? They’re way bigger than me.”
Jenna glanced at her daughter’s long face as she set one bag down and unlocked the door. “It takes a few weeks for chicks to hatch in the incubator. Tonight I’ll study up on how many chicks it’s advisable to add to our flock.”
“I want lots.”
“We can’t add more than the land will support.” Jenna set her bags on the counter, took the milk jugs from Andee and placed them in the fridge. “Mr. Martin’s notes say chicks grow fast. He said it takes an eighth of an acre to sustain an adult bird. That’s why we’ll sell most of our eggs.”
“I’m hungry. Can I have a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich?”
“I’ll fix us both one right after I bring in the rest of the groceries.”
When she returned with the remaining bags, Andee was sitting at the kitchen table snuggling Cubby Bear. She’d gone back into her shell.
As Jenna stored the things she’d bought, she contemplated checking in town to see if the school or library offered summer classes for kids. Swimming, maybe, or little theater.
Before Andrew’s investigation, Andee and her former school friends had loved to dress up and play make-believe.
As if associating with Colonel Wood’s daughter would somehow rub off on their kids.
After she folded the last empty bag, Jenna got down plates and opened the bread. In the middle of spreading peanut butter, Andee suddenly said, “Can Daddy see us here in our new place?”
Jenna fumbled the knife and it clattered against the plate. “See us how?”
“My Sunday school teacher said Daddy could look down and see me from heaven. She said heaven is up above the clouds. Here, there aren’t many clouds.” Andee’s little face crinkled, worry plain in her eyes.
Jenna carried their plates and the jar of jam to the table. Sitting, she slowly spread strawberry jam on the slices of bread that weren’t covered with peanut butter. Still struggling in her own mind, she cut one sandwich in two and slid it across to Andee.
She’d had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Andrew had flown extensively in war zones and returned in one piece, only to die practically in his own backyard in a senseless, controversial accident.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t burden Andee with her own uncertainties.
“Heaven is a huge place, and it’s...everywhere. Do you remember when we drove a long way from home to see a rocket launch?”
Andee nodded. “It went up and up and up, and disappeared.”
“That’s right, the rocket went all the way to the moon, but it still didn’t reach heaven. Do you remember how Grandma said he’s with you every time you think about him?”
“Uh-huh.” Andee stared at her sandwich a moment longer. “Do we get milk to drink?” she asked, placing her bear in an empty chair before she picked up half of her sandwich and took a bite.
More than happy to change the subject, Jenna jumped up, took down glasses and poured each of them a glass of milk.
“What was that bad man doing here before Beezer came to visit?”
Jenna swallowed what she was chewing, then chased it with milk. “I don’t think he’s bad, Andee. He wasn’t happy. He worked for the man I bought the ranch from, but he wanted me to pay him more for doing the job he’d been doing. I didn’t—don’t think that’s right. I told him no.”
“So is that why he got mad and left? What if he comes back?”
“Don’t you worry, okay? Mr. Winkleman thinks I can’t do without his help. Tomorrow, we’ll go into town and find someone else.
“If you’re finished with your sandwich, let’s stack these plates in the sink and go see what he was doing with the ostriches. I’ll bet it’s something you and I can handle.”
“Okay.” Andee slid off her chair and carried her plate to the counter. She went back and collected Cubby Bear, then waited for her mom by the kitchen door.
Jenna took off her earrings, tied back her hair, got out one of three pairs of work gloves she’d bought and led the way to the pens.
“I saw Mr. Winkleman set down this plastic bag when he came out of the shed. Shall we see what’s in it?”
Andee trudged not so enthusiastically after her mom. She held her bear tight to her chest.
“Oh,” Jenna exclaimed, “the bag is filled with ostrich feathers.”
Peering into the bag, Andee asked, “Do the feathers fall off?”
“Some do. Mr. Martin used to only take the feathers during molting season—when they fall off—so we don’t have to hurt the birds to get them. The sale of feathers is one thing that makes raising ostriches profitable. That means, what pays us money,” she added because she saw Andee open her mouth.
Instead the girl asked, “Who wants feathers? What good are they?” She picked one out of the bag and studied it. “It’s big.”
“Ostrich feathers are the only feathers that naturally absorb dust instead of pushing it away. Hmm, I wonder if my feather duster is ostrich... I remember an article I read said some car manufactures like ostrich feathers for the final dusting before they paint a car.
“Stay with the bag for a minute, Andee. I’ll go inside and get his notes.”
“Will you come right back?”
“Yes, silly. And I’ll leave the door open so you can see me.”
Andee nodded.
Because Andee acted so uneasy, Jenna whipped into the kitchen and grabbed up the folder of notes. She was out of breath after running back. “Okay, so that didn’t take long, did it? But, sweetheart, I can’t have you worrying any time I’m out of sight. You used to go out to play catch or to ride Brittany’s bike.”
“At our old house there wasn’t so much nothing,” Andee said, sweeping her arm in an arc that encompassed the desert land beyond the ranch.
“That’s the difference between city living and country living.” Jenna knelt and opened the folder of notes.
“What does it say about the feathers, Mommy?”
“It says the ostrich feathers are soft because the birds don’t fly. They use their feathers to warm them on cold nights and to shade the chicks we’ll return to the pens.”
“So, taking the feathers really doesn’t hurt them?”
“No. It’s like cutting our fingernails and toenails. The loose feathers can safely be plucked.” Jenna gazed through the fence at the tall, gangly birds. “We’ll have to blindfold them, though, to help keep them calm.”
“My teacher used one at Tessa’s birthday party when we pinned the tail on the donkey.”
“The very same... Maybe I was too hasty in firing Mr. Winkleman,” Jenna muttered. “I suspect there’s an art to plucking feathers.”
“Is that the blindfold?” Andee asked, pointing to what looked like a black silk scarf draped over the doorknob of the small shed.
“Sharp eyes. I didn’t notice it hanging there.” Rising, Jenna walked over and picked the item up. “I bet you’re right, Andee. This is soft. It’s folded and sewn so it can be tied.”
“I’m not big enough to help.”
“No, you’re not.” Hauling in a deep breath, Jenna slowly let it out. “I sank all of our money into this operation. I need to buck up and do this.”
Just as she made the proclamation, the same airplane she’d seen and complained about to Flynn Sutton appeared over the row of hills and climbed slowly and noisily as it passed over the ostrich pens like a giant predator. As before, the birds ran in circles when the plane momentarily blocked the sun.
Squinting, Andee tipped her head back. “Is that Mr. Flynn? Do you think Beezer is with him?”
Jenna, who’d held her breath as she’d watched her flock scatter in disarray, didn’t answer until Andee pressed her again. “I don’t think it’s his plane, sweetheart. And Flynn is his first name. Anyway, I doubt his dog flies with him.”
“Why not?”
