Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best summer books .TXT) 📗

would he get top dollar for a house with an eccentric animal-hoarding neighbor next door? He stalked to the overgrown hedge between the properties and bellowed at the animals. “Shut. Up.”

The noise level escalated exponentially. “Fork it,” Quinn said, forgetting that without Sean here, he could’ve used the more satisfying expletive.

The multispecies chorus ramped it up. Parrots screeched loud enough to make the donkeys sound like amateurs. Parrots? “What next? Lions, tigers, and bears?”

Fine. He would work inside today. Quinn planned to get the pool house fit for habitation in time for Sean’s scheduled visit next weekend—unless the kid canceled again, claiming homework, football practice, school projects, whatever.

All great excuses, but was that all they were? Excuses?

Did his son really hate him so much that he never wanted to see him again?

The thought hit Quinn in the solar plexus with the force of a fist. If it had been a woman treating him that way, he’d have gotten the message and moved on. But this was his son. His heart. The kid was fifteen now, so Quinn had only three years of court-mandated visitation to compel Sean to keep coming around.

Three years suddenly seemed like a very short time, given all the inattention and absence Quinn had to make up for. And yet, it had to be possible for him to retrace his steps and rebuild the bridge between him and his son.

Quinn was a carpenter, after all. He knew how to build anything, even a rickety, falling-apart bridge. And he would rebuild this one, no matter what it took. The fight for Sean’s time and attention generated its own list of obstacles, but Quinn had ordered the first round of obstacle-climbing tools online:

1. Cool guy furniture.

2. Flat-screen TV.

3. Premium cable and internet.

4. Xbox game system.

5. Paddleboards (secondhand).

Quinn knew of only one way to close the distance between him and Sean that compounded daily—worse than credit-card debt—because of his ex-wife Melissa’s subtle sabotage.

He must become the best weekend dad he could afford to be.

* * *

“Got you another one,” Abby announced above the sound of the screen door slapping shut behind her. “Saw her run into the culvert when I took the trash up to the road.”

Reva came into the kitchen, dressed in Birkenstocks and a tie-dyed hippie dress, her prematurely silver hair secured with an enormous jeweled barrette. “Oh my Lord.” She set her suitcase by the sliding glass doors and reached for the kitten. “Just this one? No stragglers?”

“She’s the only one I saw, but I’ll keep a lookout in case there are others.”

Reva held the kitten like a curled-up hedgehog between her palms. Her magic touch calmed the kitten, who immediately started purring. Reva closed her eyes, a slight frown line between her arched brows. “She’s the only one.” Reva opened her hazel-green eyes, her gaze soft-focused. “But kitten season has begun, and folks’ll start dropping off puppies next. Are you sure you can handle this place by yourself all summer?”

No, not at all. Abby had only recently mastered the art of getting out of bed every morning. But Reva deserved this break, this chance to follow her dreams after years of helping everyone but herself. “Yes, of course I can handle it.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Don’t you need to leave soon?”

“No hurry. My friend Heather will pick me up after she drops her kids off at school, so rush hour will be over by the time we get into the city. And the New Orleans airport is small enough that I can get there thirty minutes before departure and still have plenty of time. It’s all good.”

Abby gave Reva a sideways look, but didn’t say anything. Abby knew her aunt was excited about her upcoming adventure, but equally afraid of reaching for a long-postponed dream she wasn’t sure she’d be able to achieve. She might be stalling, just a little.

“What can I do to help you and your suitcase get out the door?”

“Would you get a big wire crate from storage and set it up for this baby?”

“Sure.”

Cradling the purring kitten, Reva followed Abby through the laundry room to the storage closet. “Litter box is in the bottom cabinet, cubby for her to hide in is on the top shelf.”

Abby hefted the folded wire crate. “Where should I put it?”

Reva closed her eyes again, doing her animal communication thing. “Not a big fan of dogs—or other cats, either. Wants to be an only cat.” Reva smiled and stroked the kitten’s head. “You may have to adjust your expectations, little one, just like everyone else in the world.”

Not exactly an answer, but Abby knew Reva would get around to it, and she did. “She’ll need a quiet place away from the crowd for the first few days. Let’s put the crate on top of the laundry room table.”

While Abby set up the crate, Reva gave instructions. “Take her to the vet ASAP; she’s wormy and needs antibiotics for this road rash. You can use one of the small travel crates for that. But other than the vet visit, keep her in here until next week, Wednesday at the earliest. Then you can move her crate to my worktable in the den. That’ll get her used to all the activity around here. When she’s had all her kitten shots, you can let her out into the general population.”

Abby put a soothing hand on her aunt’s arm. “I’ll remember.” She knew that Reva secretly thought no one else could manage the farm adequately—with good reason. This place was a writhing octopus of responsibilities. Critters to feed, stalls to clean, and two more weeks of school field trips to host before summer break. Even in summer, there would be random birthday parties and scout groups every now and then. No wonder Reva was having a hard time letting go; hence all the detailed instructions on how to handle the newest addition to the farm’s family. “I promise I’ll take good care of everything.”

Reva gave a yes-but nod