Page 14 of Dream Weaver

I glanced over, catching the fierce concentration in Abby’s eyes. So, huh. Maybe Rich was right about entrusting Abby with this project.

My eyes drifted over her fiery hair and fierce expression. Maybe she was a witch. Gruff as hell, but not actually evil.

I scratched my chin. Was there any such witch in existence?

One thing was for sure. There was more to this spitfire than I’d first thought.

Bang! Bang!Abby went back to clobbering the metal.

Whenever she paused to check her work, Claire bombarded me with questions.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

Two of each. Well, nowadays. An old ache settled in my chest.

Claire, I discovered, had no siblings.

“Do you have a dog?” she asked next.

I didn’t, though she had five. Roscoe was the only one allowed in the house, though.

I learned that and all kinds of details about the other four — colors, names, sizes…

The interview paused every time Abby hammered, but the moment the noise stopped, Claire tossed out another question.

“Do you have a horse?”

None. Claire had a whole herd, though she seemed to blur the line between toys and the real thing.

“Did you know only African elephants have big ears?” she said next.

No, I didn’t, but I did now. I also learned that Asian elephants had small ears.

“Are you a good blacksmith?” she asked in an abrupt change of subject.

Ha. “No. I’m a firefighter.”

“My grandpa is a firefighter. So was Mommy before I was born.”

Huh. I knew that about Abby, but I didn’t know it ran in the family.

“My grandfather was a firefighter too,” I found myself saying. “And my dad, my mom, my uncle, my cousins…”

The list stretched on for a while. Long enough for Abby to glance over, then quickly turn away.

“Wow. How many cousins do you have?” Claire asked.

I tapped the fingers on my left hand, then the right, then went back to the left again…and lost count.

“Lots,” I concluded.

“I don’t have any,” Claire said a little sadly.

“Yeah, but you have all those dogs and horses.”

Her dimples flashed, and I wondered if Abby had looked the same as a kid.

Over the next hour or so, I caught a few more hints about my temporary boss, and I wondered even more. Claire was all sunshine and rainbows. Abby was a thundercloud. Was that nature or nurture — or lack thereof, in Abby’s case? What had inspired Abby to go into blacksmithing? Was she a witch? And why did her scent make my bear all dreamy?

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