Tiny House in the Trees

by Celia Bonaduce

  Was this a sign that she should pack it in and go home? She had no home, her thesis was getting further and further behind as new ideas spiraled through her head, her professor had zero respect for her concept, she was driving a loaner and wasn’t able to pay for her car when it was ready, Bale seemed to have kicked her to the curb, and Quinn…well, Quinn confounded her at every turn.

  She took a deep breath and punched in Curly’s number.

  He answered right away.

  “Hey, Mols.” Curly’s voice reverberated through the car.

  “Is that the horse’s ass?” Galileo said in her father’s voice.

  Molly cringed. It was her own little joke that she taught Galileo to say after Curly had refused to have anything to do with the bird. Molly often regretted Galileo’s lack of understanding when it came to humor.

  “Hey, Galileo,” Curly said dryly. “You sound…status quo.”

  “Bite me,” the bird replied.

  Just what she needed—Galileo acting like a complete jerk when Molly was looking to have Curly take them in. Molly shook her shoulder and Galileo popped onto the passenger seat, apparently content with the interpersonal damage he’d inflicted.

  “I missed your call,” Molly said.

  “How are things going?”

  “They’re…going.”

  Spit it out!

  “I know you’re not graduating until December, but…”

  “But?” Molly wondered if he wanted her to come home for some reason. Maybe she wouldn’t have to admit to being in such ruin.

  “Mom and I wanted to start planning our trip for your graduation. I know I told you money is tight, but I didn’t want you to worry. We’ll make it happen.”

  “Oh.” Molly thought she might have sounded disappointed. She tried a different emphasis. “Oh! That’s really good to hear.”

  Not as good to hear as, “Come on home and forget how you’re failing miserably at life,” but she thought she carried it off.

  “So, you’re pretty sure this is going to happen, right?” Curly asked.

  “Am I pretty sure what is going to happen?”

  “Your graduation.”

  “Yes,” Molly said, sneering slightly.

  She realized she had a lot of nerve sounding like a surly teenager when she wasn’t, in fact, sure at all “this was going to happen.” Molly looked over at Galileo. She was glad he’d called Curly a horse’s ass.

  “Just making sure,” Curly said. “Because…”

  “Because what?”

  She was daring him to say she “never finished anything” or “sometimes things don’t always go as planned.”

  “Because we want to be there to support you,” he said. “It’s not every day your little sister gets a master’s. Maybe you’ll even be able to come home for Christmas afterwards.”

  “Thanks, Curly. I promise I will be graduating in December. And speaking of Christmas, did I tell you I was working on a Christmas tree farm?”

  If she was hoping this would make her sound like she had her life together, she failed miserably.

  “A Christmas tree farm?” Curly asked. “But it’s barely summer.”

  “Oh, there is a ton of stuff to do on a tree farm all year round.”

  “Like what?”

  “Right now, I’m collecting pine cones. And fir cones. It’s really very interesting.”

  “Sounds it,” Curly said in a deadened voice, clearly not finding it interesting at all. “Just don’t get distracted, okay?”

  She hung up.

  “What a complete jerk,” she said to the phone.

  “Amen, brother,” Galileo said from the passenger seat.

  After rearranging everything and getting Galileo back in his cage, Molly headed out of the tree farm. She had no idea where she was going.

  She stared at her phone. Should she call Bale? It was so weird that he left town without getting in touch with her. Maybe he just got tired of bailing her out. She’d often joked that he should have spelled his name B-A-I-L. She realized she didn’t even know where exactly he’d gone. She’d never asked. She hadn’t been much of a friend.

  Deciding not to add that particular spice to her current stew of self-loathing, Molly started to drive. It was getting late, she’d have to come up with something or spend the night in the car. Which was a great idea if you were camping, but a pretty pathetic move if you weren’t.

  Camping!

  Molly turned the car toward the campground at the edge of town, about two miles past the darkened tiny house lot.

  She could hear the gravel crunching under her tires as she pulled up to the kiosk behind two other cars. Who knew camping was so popular in Cobb? Not knowing if the campground took animals, Molly hastily threw the blanket over Galileo’s cage. When she turned back, she noticed one car had moved forward. She put the car in gear and inched ahead. Molly saw a woman in a ranger’s uniform come into view. As the woman leaned toward the driver’s window of the next car, Molly gasped. It was Helena, the bartender from Crabby’s. Molly could feel herself starting to panic. She couldn’t let Helena see her like this. No real camping gear. No supplies. Not that Helena was known to gossip.

  But there was always a first time.

  Molly slouched low in her seat and turned the car around.

  Now what?

  She decided she had no choice. She’d have to spend the money for a night in a one-star hotel. She needed to pull off the road to check her phone—she wasn’t exactly sure where the nearest, dirt-cheap hotel was. She realized she was almost in front of Bale’s Tiny Dreams. When she saw the lot, she pulled off into the wide driveway to look through her online options.

  Molly put the car in park, her headlights on the closed entrance. She smiled at the padlock across the gate. It was the brand Curly had once said was the easiest to pick in the whole world. She shook her head. Bale was so trusting. She would have to tell him about this—if she ever saw him again. She could recommend the monsters Quinn was using at Crabby’s.

  Molly looked down at her phone. She’d expected to have limited options, but it was far grimmer than she’d expected.

  She had zero options.

  She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She was so tired.

  She suddenly jolted forward in her seat as if smacked by a fly swatter.

  She got out of the car and walked to the gate. She picked up the lock and studied it. It was the easiest type of lock to pick in the whole world. She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and got to work.

  Chapter 20

  After successfully picking the lock, Molly drove into the lot, looking behind her at the road, hoping no one was driving by. She pulled the car behind the gingerbread Victorian, shut the car off, and turned out the lights. She could hardly catch her breath. Being homeless was one thing. Being a criminal was another.

  Was she a criminal? Bale certainly would understand that she was desperate, wouldn’t he? She should call him. Staring at her phone, she remembered she had no idea where he was—or what time zone he was in. And if he was with Violet, he might not want to be disturbed. She decided she’d wait on calling him. She couldn’t admit she didn’t want to take the chance he’d say she shouldn’t be there.

  Molly pulled the blanket up on Galileo’s cage and peered at him. She could see his eyes gleaming in the dark.

  “I hope you appreciate everything I’m doing for you,” Molly said.

  “Bite me,” Galileo said, with more than usual fervor.

  “I know,” Molly said. “This isn’t your fault.”

  Molly dropped the blanket and opened the car door.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Galileo didn’t bother to respond. She hoped he’d stay quiet. The last thing she needed was for him to start with his animal noises. She could
just imagine Manny hearing about it and spreading the word that a zoo must have lost several of its wild beasts.

  Using her phone as a flashlight, Molly scoped out the few tiny houses on the lot Bale had left behind. Even though she was breaking in, she had her requirements. She wanted the most private of the houses, so no one from the road could see her. She wanted a furnished model. She wanted the steps already in place, since most of Bale’s homes were built on trailers, which made the entrance over a foot off the ground

  She was about to compromise her list when she found the perfect house. It was a modern steel and wood model with skylights. One end soared higher into the sky, looking like a diminutive tower, an area she knew must be the loft. It was also tucked away behind the office and workshop, where nobody would see her—or hear her. She tried the door.

  It was open.

  She really was going to have to talk to Bale about this. He really should have a better security system. Anyone could break in.

  She looked around the unit. She remembered when Bale first built it. It had a raised kitchen on one end, with a drawer underneath that pulled out to reveal a double bed. She was so grateful she’d seen this feature in action or she’d never have known it was there! She made her way into the bathroom and discovered what she was looking for. The solar panels and the alien-looking toilet meant the tiny house had off-the-grid capabilities. She’d be able to power this house up come morning!

  In less than twenty minutes, she’d unloaded Galileo. There was a tiny pull-down table just big enough to hold the cage. It would have to do until morning.

  “Things will be better tomorrow, I promise,” she said.

  Galileo didn’t say anything. Was he angry again?

  “Say good night, please,” she said.

  “Good night, please,” he replied.

  “Always the comedian.”

  “Bite me.”

  Molly pulled the bed out from under the kitchen floor. The bed had sheets and a blanket. She fell asleep before her head hit the nonexistent pillow.

  After living in the tree and sleeping on the pool float, Molly was used to waking up on the floor. But when she awoke in the tiny house, it still took a minute for Molly to remember where she was. Looking around her, the tiny house was even more perfect than she remembered. The guilt she felt last night was replaced by calmness. Although she loved living in the tree fort, she never felt one hundred percent sure that Galileo was safe there. And the raccoon had confirmed her danger radar. At the thought of the raccoon Molly shuddered.

  Molly got up and tucked the bed back under the kitchen floor. She remembered Bale explaining the concept to her when he designed the house.

  “It’s like a Murphy bed,” he’d said. “Only instead of coming down from the wall, it slides out from a big drawer in the floor.”

  When Molly finally confessed to Bale that she’d broken into his place, she’d make sure to let him know what a great design it was. She knew she should call him immediately. She was overly tired last night and not thinking straight. Breaking in was a bad idea—and not like her at all. What would Bale think?

  She started to worry about what Bale might think. Maybe he would—quite reasonably—be angry. She checked her phone, which she’d optimistically plugged in last night, hoping for the best. The phone was fully charged. The solar panels were working and she had power. She tried to make herself punch in Bale’s number—but she couldn’t do it.

  She was so tired of all her troubles.

  And the tiny house was so perfect.

  She reached out to pull the blanket off Galileo’s cage but decided she didn’t want to hear from him just yet. He could wait another few minutes.

  She padded into the bathroom, ran the water, and flushed the toilet. Everything was working! Running water for a quick shower, Molly wondered if she should be using the towels on display. She planned on popping back into the tree fort later in the day to retrieve her all-important model. Just the thought of it being outside of her immediate control brought back the anxiety she’d been feeling over the past few weeks. She would get her miniature tree house and everything else she’d left up there, which included towels. In the meantime, if Bale found himself ready to forgive her break-in, he certainly wouldn’t begrudge her the use of a towel. She snapped it off the rack.

  Refreshed, Molly returned to check out the kitchen. For a display model, the house was thoughtfully outfitted. While there was no food, there were dishes, cups, bowls, a coffeemaker, utensils, pot and pans, and wine glasses. Molly was impressed by how well everything fit in the miniscule kitchen, but she figured that was the point. Why else have all this stuff in cupboards nobody was using? Whatever the reason, she was grateful.

  Finally ready to face Galileo, she pulled off the blanket. She knew African Greys had long memories and she didn’t for a minute think he’d forgotten the raccoon attack, but she hoped that, using his bird logic, he might conclude that she was his rescuer rather than the cause of his predicament.

  “Good morning,” Molly said brightly.

  “Feed me, wench,” Galileo said, puffing up his chest and speaking in his pirate’s voice.

  Molly laughed. He hadn’t used this expression in a while. She wondered if it was because he always got a rise out of her when he said “Bite me.” Maybe he was giving her a break.

  Not that “Feed me, wench” was going to win any prizes in the politeness department. But with Galileo you took what you could get.

  Molly was starving. She currently didn’t have any food except some carrots for Galileo. She remembered Bale had a small kitchenette inside the cavernous workshop. She gave Galileo a carrot, threw on a pair of yoga pants and a light sweatshirt, opened the door, and looked cautiously around. She hopped onto the asphalt and made herself saunter into the large building sitting square in the middle of the lot. The large barn doors were padlocked. She tried the side door. Also locked. She tried two windows in the back.

  One of them was not secure, and she crawled in.

  Molly gasped as she stood in front of the latest of Bale’s creations. It was a tiny red schoolhouse. It even had a little steeple and bell. Molly clapped at the sight of it. There didn’t seem to be any limit to Bale’s imagination. He had one amazing idea after another. Her own lack of progress on her tree house model flitted into her mind, but she shoved it back out.

  The fridge and pantry offered up dull but serviceable breakfast items. Almond milk, cereal, and tea. She pulled out a jar from the cupboard. It was something called Tangy-O—an orange powder. Molly opened the lid and sniffed. The synthetic orange smell made her eyes water. But she made a glassful and drank it while preparing a bowl of cereal. She felt incredibly at home. Once fed, she cleaned everything up. She would go to the store and buy her own supplies so she didn’t have to keep sponging off Bale’s unbeknownst hospitality.

  Molly suddenly remembered an organization specialist named Vivien bought a tiny house from Bale about a year ago. Didn’t Bale tell her Vivien had organized all his paperwork and the keys? She rummaged around the office until she found all the keys, neatly labeled and color-coded. She grabbed one marked “Front Gate” with a tangerine rubber cover, one to the back door in a startling blue, and—she was guessing—one in hot pink marked “Tower,” which she suspected was the name of the tiny house she’d chosen as her hideout. She felt the hot pink was not the right color for the industrial style of “her” house, but that was a minor quibble.

  Bale might be a slacker about keeping the lot safeguarded, but Molly had other ideas. Maybe Bale would even thank her.

  Maybe…

  She looked at her phone. Even though she’d just eaten, she might actually be able to get to work in time to have breakfast at Beamer’s with Quinn. One of the worst parts of this subterfuge was not being able to admit to Quinn what was going on with her life. She didn’t want to appear that she didn’t have
it all together. A woman casting about just to stay afloat didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would be of interest to Quinn.

  As she got to know him, it was clear he liked things uncomplicated.

  Molly walked toward the backdoor and stopped suddenly. There was a three-foot roll of chicken wire leaning against the far wall of the workshop. She had an inspiration, which, if successful, would make Galileo a very happy bird.

  She pulled a staple gun, clippers, and gloves off a cluttered workbench (it seemed Vivien could only make so much progress with Bale), grabbed a stack of newspapers, and shoved the chicken wire under one arm. Loaded down, she quietly left the workshop and made her way back toward Galileo.

  Molly tried the key in the lock of the tiny house. It fit perfectly.

  “Your human is a genius,” Molly said to Galileo as she hauled in the chicken wire and other supplies.

  “Bite me,” Galileo said through a beak full of carrot.

  Molly studied the tower vaulting into the sky atop the loft at one end of the tiny house. A ladder accessed the tower. She tried the ladder to make sure it was sturdy and well built. Of course, it was perfect. Bale was a master.

  “Watch and learn,” Molly said to the African Grey.

  Within a couple hours, Molly had closed off the loft by stapling the chicken wire over the opening. She made a door on one end. It was primitive, but it worked and could be easily removed. Climbing inside, she spread newspaper on the floor of the loft and assembled her traveling perch, which she stood near the chicken wire so Galileo could climb the wire from the floor of the loft to the perch. She stood up and spread out her arms. The loft was even bigger than Galileo’s large cage, which was now housing Romeo and Lancelot back at Mr. Detman’s.

  She climbed down the ladder, spent a few minutes begging Galileo to get on her shoulder, then took him into the loft and settled him on his perch. Tugging his cage into place without a pulley system was no easy feat, but she managed to wrestle it inside the loft. She left the door open so he could come and go at will, setting it up with fresh water and vegetables.