Risky Biscuits by Mary Lee Ashford

Author:Mary Lee Ashford [Ashford, Mary Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781516105069
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2019-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Ernest and I were enjoying a leisurely coffee and a toasted bagel. Actually, I was enjoying the bagel and coffee. Ernest had already wiped out a bowl of kitty kibble. He had situated himself on my lap for a cuddle while I watched the morning news and munched on my very tasty breakfast.

Suddenly the front door shuddered with several loud bangs. Ernest and I both jumped as if we’d been shot. My cinnamon raisin bagel went airborne, flying out of my hand. Ernest skittered across the room and under the coffee table, leaving a cloud of fur behind. I hurried to the door to find out who, at this time of the morning, could possibly be making so much noise.

Throwing it open, I nearly passed out at the sight of the knife-wielding apparition who blocked my way. I took a step back and stifled the scream about to burst from my mouth.

When my heart stopped pounding in my ears and my eyes focused, I realized it was Mrs. Pickett.

Her gray hair covered by a flowered scarf, she wore her standard pink chenille bathrobe, and black clunky boots that looked as if they were intended for a snowstorm. She held a wicked-looking blade aloft like some fierce Viking granny.

“You scared me,” I said, sharper than I’d intended.

She eyed me but didn’t move from her Viking pose.

“What are you doing with that knife?” I asked, backing up.

“Pouring stuff on the weeds doesn’t work,” she declared, waving the steel blade in my face.

I backed up a little more. “Uh-huh.”

“You gotta cut them out. Roots and all.” Her bathrobe clad arms sliced back and forth with the blade and then she held it toward me again.

I reached out and gingerly took it between two fingers.

Apparently satisfied with having imparted sufficient weed wisdom, she turned and left.

I stood staring at her pink chenille covered back as she clomped her retreat across my side yard to her house.

Well, for cryin’ in a bucket.

Dixie was right, the woman was crazy. I closed the door and carried the weed knife to the kitchen and put it in the sink.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I coaxed Ernest from under the coffee table and retrieved my bagel from where it had rolled under my chair. It no longer looked appetizing—I didn’t think all those specks were raisins. More like dust bunnies and cat hair. I dropped it in the trash and headed upstairs to get dressed for the day.

I could hardly wait to share this latest episode in the “Won’t You Be My Crazy Neighbor” show with Dixie.

* * * *

I’d just walked in the Sugar and Spice office when Greer called.

“How are you this morning?” I asked, putting my bag down on the floor and dropping into the chair at my desk.

“Properly caffeinated,” she answered. “How about you?”

“Working on it,” I answered with a smile.

“I had a cup before we got together for coffee. Then once there I kept chatting and Nellie kept pouring. Now I’m extra wired.

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