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Uncle Mercury is usually sitting in his ratty armchair when I arrive home. But he’s nowhere to be seen. Neither is whoever is supposed to be watching him today.
I dig my phone out. I have a schedule of which gossip gal is watching Mercury when in here somewhere.
“We’re out back,” Gibson shouts.
What is he doing here? Granted Gibson lives here now with me and Mercury, but he wasn’t supposed to be home today. He had ‘band stuff’ to do. Whatever that means.
I open the back door to find Gibson waiting for me.
I push up on my toes to kiss him. “Hi, guitar man.”
“Hey, sassy girl,” he whispers against my lips.
“Are you going to kiss all day?” Uncle Mercury asks and we pull apart.
“Hi, Uncle Mercury. How was your day? Speaking of days, what are you doing home?” I ask Gibson.
He smiles. “We have a surprise for you.”
“The two of you have a surprise for me?” I ask and he nods. “Oh boy. I hope it isn’t how you ‘accidentally’ caused a hole in the side of the house again.”
Gibson rolls his eyes. “It was an accident and it wasn’t a hole. Just a little dent in the wall.”
It was a hole. I really didn’t think I needed to make a rule about playing baseball in the house.
“Come on,” Uncle Mercury orders. “I ain’t got all day.”
“Oh yeah? What do you need to do, Mercury? Got a hot date later? Who is it? Cayenne or Feather?”
He scowls at me. “I’m not dating those women.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “They beg to differ.”
“Follow me,” he orders.
I hurry to him when he reaches the stairs off the back patio. He shoos me away.
“I can walk stairs. I’m not an invalid.”
Uncle Mercury will be on his death bed and claiming he’s not an invalid. I ignore him and grasp his elbow to steady him as he maneuvers the three steps down to the yard.
He starts off across the lawn and that’s when I see it.
“There’s a tiny house in the back yard!” I exclaim.
Gibson wraps an arm around my shoulders. “What do you think?”
“It’s cute. Is it for us?” I rub my hands together. “This is exciting. I can’t wait to look inside.”
“Don’t you go stealing my home, Mercy,” Mercury grumbles.
“Your home? You have a home.” I indicate the house behind us.
He points to the tiny house with his cane. “This is mine.”
“Everyone needs to slow down. How did this tiny house get here? Why is Uncle Mercury moving out of his home?”
“The tiny house was delivered today. It’s not ready to use yet. The builders estimate it’ll be finished and ready for use in two to three weeks,” Gibson explains.
