Her luck continued to hold. Quinn was nowhere to be found. Molly headed up to her tree fort, ready to study up on evergreen cones—pine, fir, and otherwise. She climbed up quickly, noticing the smattering of cones clustered around the base of the tree. She sat cross-legged, trying to focus on her Google search on Fraser firs. A little guilt crept in. Quinn wasn’t paying her to study about cones, just to gather them. But Molly had always been a student of whatever she was working on. In the long run, she felt it made her better at whatever job she was tackling. She read on:
To grow evergreen from seed, gather large brown or slightly green cones. Cones should be closed. An open cone has probably already released its seed. She also noted that only female Frasers produced cones.
She tried to read more but found herself worrying about her own circumstances instead. She had a few hundred dollars in her pocket until next payday, but was it practical to spend any money on a hotel or renting a room when she was going to have to pay off an engine repair?
She found herself looking out over the beautiful view instead. Everything looked so different in the trees. The world looked so big. Bigger than it looked on the ground. And it didn’t look anywhere near as scary from forty feet in the air. Everything just looked perfect. She relaxed as she took in the world below her. Her heartbeat slowed.
She wished she could stay here forever.
The thought hit her so suddenly, her phone almost toppled through a crack in the lean-to’s flooring.
Of course! She and Galileo could stay here until she could figure things out.
She took out a pen and wrote on her hand. Her fingers trembled with excitement.
Imagination
Creativity
Resourceful
As she scrambled down the makeshift ladder, she tried to convince herself that this was a bad idea. She got as far as admitting it wasn’t a sensible idea. There was no water, no electricity, there were holes in the roof and floor, there was no furniture. But for every argument against it, she had an answer. She’d take some of her cash and renew her membership at the gym, where she could shower. She’d charge her phone in the tree farm’s office and in her car. Everybody did that! As far as electricity, she’d have to be careful about light anyway. Somebody noticing a bright spot in the trees after dark would be a sure giveaway. She was used to sitting in the lean-to for hours and never noticed the lack of furniture—and she had the blow-up pool float in the trunk of her…
She stopped climbing and froze. All her clothes and the pool float were in the trunk of her car at Altro’s A-Plus. Could she stop and pick up her things without causing suspicion? She started down the ladder again. She’d have to risk it. The thought of living in the tree made her heart soar. And she was sure living there would be the best possible inspiration for her thesis.
She jumped in her loaner car and headed to Altro’s.
She played over what she would say when she got there. Albert would probably say, “Hey, Molly. Forget something?” and she could launch right in to needing to get stuff out of her trunk. It would be ultra-casual.
Molly was happy to see the garage was still open. She waved to Albert as she pulled into the garage.
“Hey, Molly,” Albert said.
So far so good.
“Couldn’t stay away?” he teased.
Molly sighed. Why couldn’t people just stick to her script?
“Hey, Albert,” Molly said.
She could hear her voice shaking. She thought about a movie she’d just seen. A woman was going to break into a museum and steal a valuable jewel. She was cool as fresh hotel sheets, charming the curators and guards. Why couldn’t Molly be like that? She plunged ahead with her own lines.
“I need to get some stuff out of my trunk.”
“Knock yourself out,” Albert said, returning to the underbelly of a Fiat. “Key is in it.”
Molly loaded her belongings into the loaner and headed to the gym. In ten minutes, she had her renewed membership card in hand.
Everything was going smoothly. It was as if the universe was agreeing with her that this tree-fort thing was a great idea.
Now to convince Galileo.
Chapter 15
“Bite me,” Molly finally said to Galileo.
She’d spent a half hour trying to coax the African Grey into the traveling cage. Molly’s hope would soar as he started walking to his perch. She would extend her forearm, like an old-fashioned gentleman offering a lady his arm for a promenade. Galileo would cock his head to one side, hesitating as if deciding whether to accept her invitation. He would then turn his back on Molly, heading nonchalantly back into his big cage, where he would hang upside down and taunt her with a maniacal pirate’s laugh.
She’d given up and packed the few final things that needed to go with them into the loaner car. The thought of her precious tree house model packed in the car while she negotiated with Galileo tied her stomach in knots. She needed to get Galileo into the cage. She didn’t want to navigate the tree fort’s ladder at night, much less move in a bird, a cage, and her model.
Mr. Detman knocked on the open front door. He tiptoed in and looked mournfully at Molly.
“We’re sure going to miss you around here,” he said.
“Thanks, Mr. Detman. We’ll miss you too.”
“I see you’re ready to go.”
“Almost,” Molly said, trying to be polite but in no mood for small talk. “But if I don’t get Galileo into his traveling cage, we might not get out of here tonight.”
Molly had outfitted the travel cage with his favorite toys and a few treats. But Galileo stood firm in his upside-down posture. Mr. Detman walked over to Galileo and studied him.
“He’s a fine bird. If he doesn’t want to leave, he can always stay with me. I’m sure Romeo and Lancelot would love a new brother.”
Molly saw Galileo’s head snap around.
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, speaking very clearly. “Maybe he would like to stay here.”
Galileo hopped into the traveling cage without another complaint.
The sun was splashing around in the sky as Molly drove to the tree farm. She was grateful for the remaining couple hours of daylight in which to get settled. She couldn’t remember if there was a gate and was relieved to see the road to the larger evergreens was wide open. She headed to the base of the tree fort. Standing at the base of the tree, looking up the ladder, she’d wished she’d thought of this great scheme a few weeks ago. Getting Galileo up the ladder was going to be tricky. She would have shelled out enough money to buy a new travel carrier that converted to a backpack. She put his cage on the ground so he could watch her prepare their new home. He amused himself by imitating all the bird and insect sounds around them as Molly availed herself of the pulley.
She climbed up and down the ladder several times getting all her other possessions in place. She’d hoist a load with the pulley and then fasten the rope at the base of the tree before climbing to the landing. Once she made sure her footing was secure, she’d lean out, grab the parcel hanging in midair, and, without looking down, pull it into the tree fort. Once she had almost everything inside, she inflated the pool float, put her bags of clothes and food in the lean-to, set up a lantern for emergencies, and put Galileo’s traveling perch together. She climbed down the ladder. She had only to get her tree house model and Galileo into the lean-to and she’d be all set.
Knowing she’d have to send the model up to the tree fort with the pulley, Molly had packed the tiny tree house carefully in a large box, then carefully wrapped the box in sturdy rope, knotted expertly at the top. She slid a substantial carabineer through the knot. She attached the carabineer to the pulley, tested the strength of her connection, and started to pull. It was surprisingly heavy.
“Be careful!” Galileo instructed from his cage—a sentence he’d picked up watch
ing the Animal Galaxy Network.
“I am,” Molly hissed, realizing she sounded like a pouty teenager arguing with an overbearing parent.
“Bite me.”
She ignored the parrot and focused on the precious box inching its way into the rapidly darkening sky. She could feel her palms starting to sweat but couldn’t let go of the rope to wipe them dry. Maybe it was fatigue, but the model seemed to be getting heavier as it neared the fort. Her muscles strained as she hauled on the pulley ropes, one hand after another. The box was above her now. She needed only to guide it into the fort.
A gust of warm summer air suddenly blasted through the trees. Molly could feel the wind grab the box containing her precious project. The box, suspending in midair, bent to the whim and will of the air coursing around it. The box swung back and forth above her. The pulley creaked in protest. Molly could think of nothing to do but to try to hang on as the wind pulled at the box.
“Be careful,” Galileo said.
Molly could feel the rope slipping through her tired fingers. For a fleeting moment, she pictured the box crashing to the ground. All her work, the sacrifices, the student loans—all for nothing. How would she explain this to Professor Cambridge? The thought of his disapproving sneer gave her a burst of energy. She wrapped the rope around her hands and forced herself to the ground, bending in a yoga child’s pose against the wind. She realized if she lost control now, the box might come crashing down on her. Could it knock her out? Could it kill her? She was so tired of everything. In her exhaustion, she wondered if maybe she could just let go of the rope. She wouldn’t have to face the uncertain future after all. She closed her eyes and hesitantly started to loosen her grip, letting the rope burn her hands.
Through the wind whistling in her ears, she made out the faint strains of “The Female Highwayman.” She didn’t know whether her father’s voice was coming to her through Galileo or her heart, but she knew he was telling her something.
He was saying she couldn’t give up. She had to be true to her mythic heroine from long ago. She had to be tough and she had to be strong. Her father always said she could be anything she wanted to be. But he never said it was going to be easy. As she opened her eyes and sat up, pulley rope now tight around her hands, the wind died down as suddenly as it had started. She looked up at the box, which swayed gently high above the ground, like a graceful hula dancer.
She stood up. Her new resolve invigorated her as she reached out to pull the miniature tree house in its box up to the landing and tied off the rope. Once she’d climbed up the ladder and pulled the precious box safe inside, she headed back down.
One last hurdle and she’d be all set to call the tree fort home. She looked through the cage at the bird.
“Okay,” Molly said, looking him in the eye. “There is no denying that this is going to be very weird. But I can’t carry your cage up the ladder. And I’m not sending you up the pulley, so we’ve got a problem.”
“Amen, brother.”
“Yeah. Anyway, here’s what going to happen. I’m going to send the cage up by the pulley. You need to sit on my shoulder. We’ll climb up the ladder and pull the cage in. Got it?” Molly said. “And no biting.”
Galileo had a habit of biting her ear whenever she had him on her shoulder. Her father used to say it was because the bird was humiliated at having to act like an accessory. Molly found that a little sophisticated in the thinking department. She didn’t care how smart Galileo was. If Galileo bit her on the way up the ladder, she might lose her grip and crash to the ground. Molly anticipated Galileo might give her some trouble and she could not afford for him to fly off into the evergreens. Before she’d left the apartment, she’d half-clipped his wings. He couldn’t fly away but he’d have enough control so that if he fell, he could sort of glide to the ground.
She trusted Galileo to obey her. He knew when she was serious.
Molly took a deep breath and opened Galileo’s cage.
“Come on,” Molly pleaded, holding out her arm. “Please don’t mess with me.”
“Shit,” Galileo said in surrender as he flapped out of the cage and onto her arm.
Galileo climbed up Molly’s arm and settled on her shoulder. She could hear him rustling near her ear. She knew biting her would be hard for him to resist. She needed to reinforce the seriousness of the situation.
“Don’t you dare bite me,” Molly snarled at him.
“Bite me,” he rasped back.
But he behaved all the way into the tree fort.
Molly set him down on his freestanding perch. Staring accusingly at Molly, he crab-walked sideways for four steps, which took him from one end of the perch to the other. Molly looked around the lean-to. She knew what the African Grey was thinking. What delirium had led her to think this was a good idea? The floor had holes in it; the walls leaned to one side.
She convinced Galileo to get in his cage. His look said that this place was not up to his standards. It was as if he had lived at The Ritz and now was expected to make due with a one-star motel. She took a few toys out of her purse and put them in the bottom of the cage to amuse him. She flipped a sheet gently over the cage, knowing he would settle down.
“I don’t like this either,” Molly said soothingly to the covered cage. “We’ve just got to hang out here until I figure something out.”
As she crawled onto the pool float and pulled the blanket around her, she hoped she could figure something out fast.
* * * *
Bale and Thor were up before dawn, making sure the four tiny houses Bale was taking to the convention in Arkansas were all set to travel. He’d decided on the Victorian, the Little Cabin, the Mid-Century Modern with the sloped roof, and the Colonial. Taking four of the tiny houses with him left six models just sitting there on the lot, including the steampunk model that so entranced Violet.
Bale prided himself on running a one-man show, but his business was on the verge of being more than he could handle. He had part-time help, men and women who would do finishing work when he had more than one house to build at a time, and there were the drivers who went on the road with him, hauling the tiny houses to the latest convention and then returning to pick them up. He always had his eye on expansion. Maybe now was the time.
He gave each of the drivers final instructions and watched as the strange little caravan headed into the early morning light. He had his own tiny house that he and Thor traveled in—a school bus he’d outfitted with all the bells and whistles. The bus was always a conversation starter—as if being the purveyor of tiny houses wasn’t enough. He’d always get orders for school bus conversions when he was on the road.
Making sure the lot was secure, Bale whistled for Thor to hop in the bus. Patting down his jacket in search of his keys, he felt his phone go off. After more frantic patting down of jacket and pants, he found the phone but had missed the text.
It was from Violet.
Violet: Arrived safely. Geography was never my strong suit, but isn’t Tennessee on your way to Arkansas?
Bale stared at the phone. He hated to admit it but seeing Molly yesterday had set him back. Looking down at the text, he realized he was at a crossroads: either man up and tell Molly he loved her or move on. He took a deep breath, put the phone back in his pocket, and jumped in the bus.
With Thor impatiently riding shotgun, Bale sat for a few minutes deciding what to do. A left turn would take him toward town and to Molly’s apartment; a right would send him to Arkansas by way of Tennessee.
He heard a buzzing overhead and looked up to see Old Paint sailing through the sky. Bale looked at Thor.
“Think we can turn Molly’s head in this bus?” Bale said, ruffling the red thatch between Thor’s ears.
He put his indicator on, signaling a right turn away from Molly’s apartment.
In four blocks, he swung the bus around. It was now or never. He co
uld tell Molly what was in his heart and if she…
Laughed?
Ran away?
Or even worse, just felt sorry for him?
Then he could be on his way. At least he wouldn’t have to face her for a while.
Pretty sure those emotions were Molly’s only options, Bale felt himself losing his nerve. He came to a turnout and once again headed away from Cobb.
He thought about his early days, when he took the leap and started Bale’s Tiny Dreams. He smiled as he remembered coming up with the name. Yes, the houses were tiny, but his dreams were huge. Taking every ounce of nerve and every dime of savings, he’d faced financial hardship for years. But he never gave up. He always told himself “Failure changes nothing; success, everything” and lived by those words.
Wasn’t Molly worth the same risk?
As his phone vibrated, reminding him he still needed to respond to Violet, he headed back to town.
* * * *
Molly woke on the pool float but realized her hip was still asleep. The enormity of her situation came flooding back, but the pool float wasn’t comfortable enough to hide in. She peeked over at Galileo’s cage, still covered with a sheet. She knew she had to face him but knew it was going to be ugly. She also knew she deserved his wrath.
Standing up and doing a few stretches made her feel a little more human. She rummaged around in the grocery bag and broke off a few pieces of broccoli as a peace offering. Still in pajamas but wearing a pair of boots against the splintery floor, Molly pulled the sheet of the cage and gave Galileo her brightest smile.
“Who’s a good bird?” Molly crooned and waved the broccoli. “I have a treat! Who wants a treat?”
Galileo turned his back on her. He hated baby talk.
Molly knew to leave Galileo alone when he was in a mood. He could ignore her for hours, just to be sure that she got the point that he was angry with her. She opened the cage and put the broccoli down. She checked to make sure there was no way out of the lean-to and decided to leave the cage door open. Scooting the freestanding perch near the open door so he could pull himself up as he saw fit, she stared at his back.
Tiny House in the Trees Page 11