Eventually, Amelia would be able to enjoy a hot cup of tea and start the next chapter of the novel for book club.
For now, she relished the silence of her sleeping children. They were holding up better than she first feared. And for them to create a new routine to claim as their own had been a nice change. Who knew that change would lead to meeting the new owners of the property?
Amelia stared at the remains of her yarn basket contents now shredded, pulled, destroyed, with bits of unidentifiable ick mixed in for good measure. The kids promised to put all of the crafting supplies away before breakfast.
“4, 3, 2, 1! Step right up or all is done!”
She put her hands on her hips and listened for the pitter patter of panicked feet or the mournful moans of a munckin in misery nearby. With neither forthcoming, she repeated the warning then started her search.
Amelia found the old feline curled up under the furthest corner of the bed.
“Count, Count, Count. How many times are we going to play this game?” Amelia shimmied under the bed as far as she could go and began to coax the gray and white cat. The fact that he didn’t claw her worried her.
“I suspect you found something the kids left behind, huh?” She sighed. Last thing she wanted to do was go to the vet. But, if Count was down, she had no choice.
Barry would have had a slew of profane words to fill the air. That was never Amelia’s style.
Beyond the fact that she and her brother took different things from their summers with their grandparents, Amelia took after Grandpa Gregory – never curse when a well-versed line would do.
So she had taken a composition notebook, poured through the books a shelf at a time in their library, and wrote down all of the different insults she could find. When her cousin Isabel found it, Amelia gleefully shared the sources and offered scenarios when they could be used.
Not that she had planned to.
Then there was the dolt teacher in middle school – Mr Norman. The first one to declare that women had nothing meaningful to contribute to literature, let alone culture, when someone pointed out there were were no female authors on the required reading list.
Amelia dodged detention via a biting essay for Mr. Norman and a bitter letter to the school board.
Grandpa Gregory smiled. ‘Words are the true sword in defeating the stubborn sods,’ he wrote in a note left on top of a leather-bound journal.
Amelia’s love of words grew stronger that day and blossomed ever since.
So there was no way in Hades that her soon-to-be-ex was going to get anything of the library.
A fresh pot of coffee was out of the question, given that the last of the grounds were now compost in the garden. Time for discipline, Kai Addison thought. Finish the first few pages of her project, fueled by the sufferable remaining cup of cold caffeine in front of her, then reward herself with a trip to main street.
She hadn’t quite gotten a clear lay of the land, as her uncle would say. However, she knew there had to be a decent coffee shop or two to try. Maybe she could find a safe path to take up running again. Goodness knew she had plenty of time now, until she actively started looking for work – another mission for main street.
Kai Addison could adapt, had always adapted. New town, new start, and plenty of fresh possibilities.