Camellia tapped her wooden spoon against the side of the ten-gallon bucket and glanced at her sister. “Goodness, Mags, what’s wrong?”
“What do you think? Yourparrot.” Her green eyes were narrowed to slits. “That’s it. I don’t know how he’s getting in, Camellia, but enough is enough. He has to go—”
“Lord Byron was in your room again?” Camellia handed the spoon to Astrid. “I’ve made sure to keep him here and in the sunroom. At night, he’s been in his cage.”
“Then there’s two of them because he’s left me a lovely bird-poo surprise right in the middle of my vanity.” She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes flashing.
“Oh dear.” Camellia swallowed.
“Oh dear, is right.” Aunt Mags’s voice wavered as she leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. “And he took a photo.” She breathed deeply. “Thephoto.” Her voice broke then.
“Magnolia.” Camellia stepped forward to take her sister’s hands. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be sorry, get it back.” Aunt Mags’s anger gave way to anguish. “It’s all I have.”
“I will. I am,” Camellia assured her. “Girls, watch the lotion.” She hurried into the sunroom, closing the door behind her.
Aunt Mags stayed propped against the kitchen counter, her arms wrapped around her waist and her green eyes fixed on the sunroom door. Aunt Mags might appear as aloof and impeccably put together as ever, but Tansy knew better. On the inside, her Auntie Mags was lost and broken.
Like Shelby.She was in exactly the same state. Lost and scattered.
“I’ll make chamomile tea.” Tansy filled the kettle and turned on the gas stove top.
The loud crash from inside the sunroom had them all jumping. Lord Byron squawked, followed by the sounds of his wings flapping. He was agitated, his voice loud and clear. “Little thief. Little thief.”
If Aunt Mags’s lips hadn’t pressed tight, Tansy might have laughed. Aunt Camellia rarely chastised him so, when she did, the poor bird went out of his way to make it up to her. He’d follow her around and bring her things and use a baby voice until Aunt Camellia would forgive and forget the bird’s latest offense. Until the next time Lord Byron figured out a new way into Aunt Mags’s room and stole more shiny things.
After a bit, the sunroom door opened and Camellia came out. She’d turned her apron into a makeshift pouch—a pouch that was clearly full. “I have it.” She hurried to the table and upended her apron onto it. “And a few other things, as well. He keeps finding new places to hide things.”
Aunt Mags pushed off the counter and crossed to the table. She took the silver picture frame Camellia offered her and held it against her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Aunt Camellia came around the table to hug her sister. Camellia gave the best hugs. Big and strong and warm and reassuring. All things Aunt Mags desperately needed. “I’ll go clean up the mess he left.” Aunt Camellia collected disinfecting wipes, some paper towels and bleach spray. “Please turn off the burner, Astrid.” She nodded at the stove and left.
Tansy filled the teapot and carried it to the kitchen table, then brought cups and saucers. “Tea?”
Aunt Mags sat, staring down at the picture frame. She ran a finger along the edge, sighed and placed it facedown in her lap. “Thank you.”
Tansy dropped a tea bag into each cup and filled them with steaming water before sitting at the table.
Astrid set a plate of honey sugar cookies and tangerine honey tarts in the middle of the table and sat, too. “Thanks for the tea.” She raised her cup at Tansy.
“Thanks for the treats.” Tansy reached for a cookie.
It was quiet until Aunt Camellia returned. She stowed all the cleaning items away, washed her hands and joined them at the table.
It fell silent again.
“We sold out today.” Astrid drew her legs up into her seat. “And most of our new travel mugs, too.”
“Really?” Aunt Camellia’s brows rose. “That’s good, then.”
Aunt Mags took a cookie and tart, asking half-heartedly, “Anything eventful?”
“Not really.” Astrid shrugged. “Not forme. Tansy had a little adventure.”
“It wasn’t an adventure. A little girl got lost so we helped her find her mother.” Tansy shrugged. “You know I’m not much of a kid person, but she was so sweet. And she called Dane Thor and said he had to help her because he was a superhero.” And he’d been sweet and gorgeous and better than Thor could ever be.
“Dane?” Aunt Camellia frowned. “How was Dane involved?”
