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“Don’t throw the old stuff out though,” I said, surprising myself. “I’d love to see it.”
“Into antique vegetables?”
“I would have said no, but for some reason I want to see the cans.”
The oven timer dinged then, and I went to retrieve the muffins with a smile on my face. Addie’s wit was a combination of sarcasm and self-deprecation that I enjoyed. She wasn’t overly confident—though I couldn’t really fathom how a woman like her wasn’t—but she was clearly super intelligent, and that made her quick with a joke. I liked it. A lot.
“Wow,” she said in a breathy tone as I put a plate of muffins in the center of the table next to a tub of butter. “Don’t let Lottie know you can bake like this.”
“Think she’ll feel threatened?”
She nodded, and the idea of her thinking I was good at something gave me little flush of pleasure. I was good at so few things, it was a nice change.
“Instead of vegetable restoration, you could get the rooms ready for the floor refinishing down here,” I suggested.
Addie looked at me, her nose adorably scrunched in confusion. “How would I do that?”
“I brought the drum sander over and stuck it in the parlor. Just need to move the furniture into the dining room and start sanding, really.”
“I have no idea how to operate that thing.”
“I can show you. It’s like a vacuum cleaner. You’ve used one of those?”
She frowned at me, her eyes narrowing. “Once or twice. But I do appreciate that you didn’t jump to the conclusion that I had just because I’m a woman.”
“Okay, then you should be good. Just get it scuffed up. The professional guys will do the rest.”
Addison was finishing a second muffin as I washed my hands and started getting ready to head to the store, but when her phone rang, I turned to see her answer it.
“S’my mom,” she said through a mouthful of muffin. She finished chewing and then answered the phone.
I watched as her face changed from carefree and happy to dark and drawn. Whatever Lottie was saying wasn’t good. I crossed my arms and waited for her to hang up, feeling an odd certainty that the call might have something to do with me.
“The moose,” Addie said, putting down her phone.
“Oh shit.” I sighed. It had to be my cousins. No one else had access to the kind of heavy machinery required to haul that enormous moose around town. “Where’d they put it?”
“Town square,” Addie said. “Wearing a tutu, I guess.”
I couldn’t stifle the laugh that launched from my throat at the image.
The smile vanished from Addie’s face and her voice was sharp. “That statue is very dear to my aunt.”
“Why a tutu?” I managed to ask between repressed chuckles.
“There was a sign around its neck. ‘Tanners are tutu stupid.’”
I sighed. That wasn’t very clever. “My cousins are idiots.”
“Resourceful idiots,” she noted. “That thing must weigh—“
“About a ton,” I confirmed. When she lifted an eyebrow at my quick answer, I confessed, “I’ve helped move it before. In my less educated days. Before we were partners.”
“And you weighed it?”
“No, but the equipment I used had one point five ton limit, so I know it’s not over that.”
She nodded. “I see.”
