Page 5 of Mother Clucker

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, waiting for her to politely decline my offer. I let it out now and said, “Then you got it.”

Her acceptance meant more to me than I realized it would. And it made me respect her even more than before.

That Anna could overlook the bad press—half of which was over exaggerated and the other half utter lies—gave me hope I could dig Strickland out of the hole we’d sunk into.

She cocked her head to one side and cringed. “How big of a truck is this going to be? Because we don’t have a warehouse. Just a shed out back behind the shelter.”

I smiled. “Gotcha. A shed load full of food it is then.”

“Thank you, David.”

“No. Thank you, Anna.” And this time, I really meant it.

I was about to leave when she said, “Would you like a tour of the shelter?”

My knee-jerk reaction was to say no and get back on the road. But a second thought had me thinking differently and saying, “Yeah, I would.”

It wouldn’t hurt to get to know the place where my money and my product would be going. Or to get to know the people around here a little better.

If they were all like that feisty little hell cat at the gas station, California might be someplace I’d want to stick around for a bit.

3

Heather

I wasn’t one of those people to have my head turned by material things.

At least I hadn’t thought I was. Possessions had always been just that to me. Things.

But as I stood on the deck of the ocean view condo and stared out at the Pacific, with a cup of the best freaking coffee I’d ever drank thanks to the combo grinder/brewer in the kitchen, I had to reevaluate my shallowness.

And to think, that day last week when the voicemail had come from my boss on my line at work, I’d actually been annoyed.

Heather.

One of the execs needs a house sitter. I volunteered you. Check your email for the details.

You’re welcome! (Smiley face emoji)

June

That last line really pissed me off.

You’re welcome!

It made me want to punch her smiley face emoji in its happy little yellow face.

Just because I was unmarried and had no kids and no pets did not mean I was the automatic house sitter for anybody who needed one, but apparently my boss thought I was.

I’d ranted for a full hour to my co-worker Lucy over lunch. When I finally got back to my desk, after taking an extra long break as an act of protest, I’d checked my email.

That’s when I noticed the address of this housesitting job.

Hermosa Beach.

And not just the town but actually at the beach, as in almost on the sand.

The Pacific Ocean was only one block away and definitely in sight of where I’d be living for the next month.

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