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He scrambled after her, crawling across the gravel. “You can’t take my car.”
“I’m not, but I’m making sure you can’t either.”
She checked that all the animals were out before she closed the trunk and the rear passenger door. “Dad, will you make sure there aren’t any more chickens inside?”
“We’re good,” he said, shutting the front passenger door.
Mr. Olson managed to get back on his feet and followed behind her with an unsteady gait, his arms reaching for her like he was auditioning for The Walking Dead. “Where are you going? Gimme my damn keys!”
“Not until you sober up, Mr. Olson.”
Her mother came running out of the house, Jace right behind her. “What in the world is going on?”
“Mr. Olson executing his revenge against us. Well, against me.” She handed the keys off to her dad, but Mr. Olson was too busy retching to worry about snatching them anymore.
“Chickens!” Jace cheered, running after a Rhode Island Red hen, who took off down the hill.
“How many?” her mom asked.
“Mr. Olson? You wanna tell us how many chickens you brought us?”
“Don’t know for sure,” he heaved. “Whatever I could catch.”
“Close to twenty, I think,” her dad said. “I’ll let the guys know and we can start gathering em up.”
“Are they hens?” her mom asked.
“Mr. Olson?” He’d stopped vomiting and Merry prodded him on the shoulder. “Are all the chickens you brought hens?”
“Yeah. I ate the rooster. Annoying bastard.”
Her mother clapped her hands. “Well, happy birthday to me. Jace! Baby, stop chasing them! If you scare them, they won’t lay any more eggs!”
“Oh no,” Merry’s dad said firmly. “Victoria, we are not keeping these things.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, honey.” Her mother’s voice was sweet as sugar, with a hard edge that brooked no argument. “I’ve been asking for chickens for years—”
“And I was adamantly against them! I hate chickens.”
“But these were a gift.” Her mother walked over to Mr. Olson and patted his dazed face. “Gordon! Wake up.”
“What?” he muttered.
“I want to thank you for the chickens.”
He squinted at her in confusion. “Thank me?”
“Yes. Thank you. I know it wasn’t your intention, but we appreciate them.”
“Victoria, we don’t have any place to put them!”
Merry grinned sheepishly. “Didn’t you buy an extra dog kennel?”
Her dad’s brows snapped into a murderous scowl.
“Don’t look so constipated, honey,” her mom said, kissing his cheek. “You’ll love having fresh eggs, I promise.”
Resigned, her father grumbled, “I’ll get Nick. Merry, can you stay with Mr. Olson until the police arrive?”
