Sunny headed upstairs, took a quick shower, and changed into a warm pair of pajamas. As she pulled down the comforter and bedding, the door to her room swung open slightly, and Shadow came padding in. He went from a trot to a run to a spring, landing on the mattress and heading for the pillows.
Sunny laughed. “Wait for me!”
She climbed into the bed and pulled up the covers. It was a good night to be under a heavy blanket and an old-fashioned wool comforter. The weather outside had kicked things up a notch or two. The falling snowflakes had gone from large and fluffy to the small, icy variety. They pattered determinedly against her window, driven by a howling wind.
Sunny scrunched herself into a small ball, the covers tight, her body heat creating a comfortable nest quickly invaded by a cat who nuzzled against her.
“Just you and me, Shadow,” Sunny murmured fondly. All of a sudden, the image of a black pickup pulling away, Jane’s head on Will’s shoulder, popped through her head again. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I just have to get a shawl, and then I’ll have everything I need to be an old maid.”
*
Shadow lay quietly in the circle of Sunny’s arms, sharing warmth with her. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he knew she needed him close tonight. He’d felt an odd tension in her ever since she’d come home, and even playing with her hadn’t made it go away. So he kept cuddled against Sunny until her regular breathing told him she was well and truly asleep. Then he gently squirmed his way free of her clasp and the enveloping covers.
Dropping silently to the floor, Shadow padded to the door, easing out into the gloom of the hallway beyond. He’d be back before Sunny woke up and started the day. Until then, there was a big, dark house to patrol.
6
Sunny awoke to morning dimness, cracking an eye open to peek at the clock radio. Five minutes until her alarm. Not enough time to return to dreamland, especially when the dream was so weird. A human-sized version of Shadow had been driving her Wrangler while Sunny rested her cheek against his furry shoulder.
She sighed, and felt a warm breath on her cheek. Sunny glanced over to find Shadow regarding her, almost nose to nose.
“Might as well get up.” Sunny smiled and ran a hand over the top of Shadow’s head. “Did you enjoy your drive?”
She killed the alarm, got out of bed, and headed downstairs, catching the smell of brewing coffee about halfway down. So, her dad was up, too, unable to shake the lifetime habit of early rising. He turned from the coffeemaker as Sunny came into the kitchen. “What are you thinking about for breakfast?”
“I think it’s a stick-to-the-ribs kind of morning,” Sunny replied. “How about oatmeal?”
She went to the kitchen door and opened it, bracing herself for a blast of cold air. Last night’s fluffy carpet of snow had been tamped down and covered with a glaze of ice. She quickly shut the door and retreated, Shadow doing the same right beside her. He moved to a warmer corner of the kitchen and looked suspiciously at the door, licking his injured paw.
“I guess he remembers hurting himself out there in the snow,” Mike said.
“Well, maybe he’ll be a little less eager to go sneaking out, then.” Sunny busied herself at the stove, measuring out water for the oatmeal. She took a double handful of walnuts from a container in the cupboard, put them in a plastic bag on the kitchen counter, then whacked the bag a couple of times with a pan. Then she poured the water into the pan and put it on a burner to boil. While she waited for that, she got a jar of applesauce from the fridge, a container of ground cinnamon, the box of quick-cooking oatmeal, and the kitchen timer.
When the water boiled, she scooped out two servings of oats and poured them in, set the timer for three minutes, and began stirring. The oatmeal was nice, thick, and hot just as the timer began its insistent peeping. Sunny took the pot off the heat, got two bowls, and spooned out the oatmeal, topping it with the applesauce, nuts, and spice.
Mike had cups of coffee and spoons waiting on the kitchen table. They sat down and began eating.
“Y’know, when I was a kid, I really hated oatmeal,” Mike said, stirring up the cereal and taking a spoonful. “Of course, it didn’t have all this nice stuff in it—just lumps.”
“Well, if you had eaten more oatmeal and less bacon and eggs—” Sunny began.
Mike waved a hand. “Okay, okay. Where are my pills?”
She pointed to the big box with separate compartments for a week’s worth of medications. “Right in front of you. But you’re not supposed to have them until you finish eating.”
“I know,” Mike said. “Just wanted to be ready.”
Sunny took a sip of coffee and came to a decision. “How good is the gossip grapevine around here?” she asked. “Do you think you could find out anything about somebody way off in Portsmouth?”
“Me? Probably not.” Mike picked up his cup. “Helena, though . . .” He shrugged, giving Sunny a sly look. “Looking for juicy details about Jane’s husband?”
