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to concentrate on small things.
Amelia phoned while I was folding the laundry. She told me she was about to leave work and was going
to meet Tray for dinner and a movie. She asked me if I wanted to come along, but I said I was busy.
Amelia and Tray didn’t need a third wheel, and I didn’t need to feel like one.
It would have been nice to have some company. But what would I have done for social chitchat? Wow,
that trowel slid into his stomach like it was Jell-O.
I shuddered and tried to think of what to do next. An uncritical companion, that was who I needed. I
missed the cat we’d called Bob (though he hadn’t been born a cat and wasn’t one now). Maybe I could
get another cat a real one. It wasn’t the first time I’d considered going to the animal shelter. I’d better
wait until this fairy crisis was over before I did that. There wasn’t any point in picking out a pet if I was
liable to be abducted or killed at any moment, right? Wouldn’t be fair to the animal. I caught myself
giggling, and I knew that couldn’t be good.
Time to stop brooding; time to get something done. First, I’d clean off the trowel and put it away. I
carried it to the kitchen sink, and I scrubbed it and rinsed it. The dull iron seemed to have a new gloss on
it, like a bush that had gotten watered after a drought. I held it to the light and stared at the old tool. I
shook myself.
Okay, that had really been an unpleasant simile. I banished the idea and scrubbed. When I thought the
trowel looked spotless, I washed it and dried it all over again. Then I walked quickly out the back door
and through the dark to hang the damn thing back in the toolshed on its designated hook.
I wondered if I might not get a cheap new trowel at Wal-Mart after all. I wasn’t sure I could use the iron
one the next time I wanted to move some jonquil bulbs. It would feel like using a gun to pry out nails. I
hesitated, the trowel poised to hang from its designated hook. Then I made up my mind and carried it
back to the house. I paused on the back steps, admiring the last streak of light for a few moments until
my stomach growled.
What a long day it had been. I was ready to settle in front of the television with a plate of something bad
for me, watching some show that wouldn’t improve my mind at all.
I heard the crunching of a car coming up the driveway as I was opening the screen door. I waited outside
to see who my caller might be. Whoever it was, they knew me a little, because the car proceeded around
to the back.
In a day full of shocks, here was another: my caller was Quinn, who was not supposed to stick his big
toe into Area Five. He was driving a Ford Taurus, a rental car.
“Oh, great,” I said. I’d wanted company earlier, but not this company. As much as I’d liked and admired
Quinn, this conversation promised to be just as upsetting as the day had been.
He got out of his car and strode over to me, his walk graceful, as always. Quinn is a very large shavedbald
man with pansy purple eyes. He is one of the few remaining weretigers in the world and probably
the only male weretiger on the North American continent. We’d broken up the last time I’d seen him. I
wasn’t proud of how I’d told him or why I’d done it, but I thought I’d been pretty clear about us not
being a couple.
Yet here he was, and his big warm hands were resting on my shoulders. Any pleasure I might have felt
at seeing him again was drowned by the wave of anxiety that swept over me. I felt trouble in the air.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said. “Eric turned down your request; he told me so.”
“Did he ask you first? Did you know I wanted to see you?” The darkness was now intense enough to
trigger the outside security light. Quinn’s face had harsh lines in the yellow glare. His gaze locked with
mine.
“No, but that’s not the point,” I said. I felt rage on the wind. It wasn’t my rage.
“I think it is.”
It was sunset. There simply wasn’t time to get into an extended argument. “Didn’t we say it all last
time?” I didn’t want to go through another scene, no matter how fond I was of this man.
“You said what you thought was all, babe. I disagree.”
Oh, great. Just what I needed! But since I really do know that not everything is about me, I counted to
