By nine-thirty, I was tired, grumpy, and seriously considering leveling the house with a boulder just to complete the theme. I flopped heavily onto the couch, unleashing a cloud of feathers from the rent cushions in the process. The feathers swirled around me, sticking to my hair and clothes. “I think it might just be easier to move,” I groused as I watched Skippy bark and pounce on those that floated to the ground. Nigel plucked a feather from my hair. “You need dinner,” he said. “You always get cranky when you have an empty stomach. Just sit here and relax while I go get us something.” He removed a few more feathers from my person before kissing the top of my head and disappearing into the kitchen. I closed my eyes rather than look at the mess around me. I must have dozed off because it seemed that only a few moments later Nigel had returned. “Here we are,” he said. “Dinner is served.” Opening my eyes, I looked at the tray on the coffee table in front of me and blinked in confusion.
