Lovebirds

by Lisa Moreau

  Gretchen crossed her arms over her beaded, black dress. “I’ll stand.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Emily took a deep breath, excitement bubbling inside her like a caldron. “I’m going to Ojai. There’s—”

  “Ojai? Why? When?”

  “Remember last year when I told you about the flock of gray-headed lovebirds supposedly spotted in Pasadena? And the year before that in Orange County?”

  “No. Oh wait…those Moroccan things?”

  “Madagascar.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Well, Fran claims the birds are in…get this…Ojai!”

  “Who the hell is Fran?”

  “She owns a fig farm or something. That’s not the point.” Emily paused. She wasn’t explaining this very well. “I’ll start from the beginning. There’s an aviary in San Diego where they care for exotic species that have been hurt or maimed. Two years ago, during a fire there, several of the birds escaped.”

  “I remember when that happened. It was sad. They said the ones who flew away didn’t survive.”

  “Exactly! Except maybe the Madagascar lovebirds not only survived but thrived.” Emily swept her arms out. “For the past two years, the birds have supposedly been sighted in Southern California, but no one’s ever photographed them.”

  “What’s so special about lovebirds? You can go to Petco and buy all you want.” Gretchen rested her fists on her hips.

  “These aren’t like the African ones we saw on the Discovery Channel, Gretch. These are rare birds found only on Madagascar. There’s never been a sighting in the wild in the US. This story is legendary in the birding world. Every birder in the West has been trying to track them down. If this is true—”

  “Wait a second.” Gretchen held up a hand. “What do you mean if? You’re not even sure these birds are in Ojai?”

  “Well, I can’t be one hundred percent certain until I see them myself. But if it’s true, this will be the only flock of Madagascar lovebirds in the wild within nine thousand miles of here.” Emily placed her hands on Gretchen’s shoulders and looked directly at her. “If I can find and photograph the lovebirds, this story would save The Tweet.”

  Gretchen glared, pursed her lips, and paced—as much as one could do so in a living room filled with birding equipment. After a full minute she stopped and faced Emily head-on.

  “I thought you agreed to shut down the magazine.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I know, but this is a huge exposé.”

  “Yeah, yeah…I get it.” Gretchen waved her hands. “Gray-bodied Moroccan lovebirds.”

  “That’s gray-headed Madagascar.”

  “Am I supposed to plan our wedding all by myself while you’re traipsing God knows where? And we’re supposed to be at your parents’ right now announcing our engagement.”

  Crap. That’s what Emily had forgotten.

  “You could come with me. We can plan the wedding from Ojai.” Emily took Gretchen’s hand.

  “I can’t take off right now. This is a busy time of the year. How long will you be gone?” Gretchen sat on the sofa, looking deflated.

  “I’m not sure. Listen, let’s do FaceTime right now with our folks.”

  “You want to announce our engagement via video?” Gretchen looked horrified.

  “I have so much to do before I leave tomorrow. I don’t have time to drive to Beverly Hills right now.” Emily grabbed her cell phone and sat beside Gretchen. “It’ll be fine. I’ll text Dad and tell him to get everyone together in front of the computer.”

  Within minutes Emily and Gretchen saw four heads scrunched together on the screen, everyone talking at once.

  “Why aren’t you here?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why is your condo so messy?”

  And on and on.

  “Everyone. Can I have your attention, please?” Emily attempted to speak over the barrage of voices, without much success.

  Emily drew her head back when her mother’s Botoxed cherry-red lips filled the screen.

  “Are you sick?” the lips asked. “You haven’t been swimming in a lake, have you? You could have one of those brain-eating amoebas.”

  Emily sighed. “No, Mom. My brain is fine. And could you back up? All we see is your mouth.”

  Emily’s father must have taken control of the laptop because everyone’s faces reappeared.

  “Gretchen, why are you on this video thingie?” Gretchen’s mother drew her eyebrows together.

  “We have an announcement to make, Mom,” Gretchen said. “We were going to do this in person, but Emily is going to Ojai tomorrow.”

  Christ. That started a whole other line of questioning.

  “Why Ojai?”

  “Can you pick up some oranges?”

  “Did you know your father won a golf tournament there in 1972?”

  There was only one way to shut them up.

  “We’re getting married!” Emily shouted.

  Gretchen shot Emily a dirty look while everyone else froze for five full seconds. Suddenly, the parents shrieked at ear-splitting volumes and congratulated each other. After all, they were the ones who’d gotten Emily and Gretchen together. The fathers were doctors at the same hospital, and after some intervening from the mothers, Emily and Gretchen were set up on a blind date. It had been decided, probably even before they’d met, that they would marry. It was “meant to be,” as Emily’s mother always said.

  Gretchen squinted. “What’s Dad doing?”

  Gretchen’s father was in the background talking on his cell phone.

  “He’s making arrangements with the country club,” Gretchen’s mom said.

  “Isn’t that something we’re supposed to do?” Emily whispered to Gretchen.

  “Might as well let him do it. He has connections.”

  Gretchen’s father slipped his phone into his pocket and yelled, “The club is reserved for October fifteenth.”

  The moms squealed and clasped their hands together.

  “You mean October of next year, right?” Emily asked.

  “This year,” the two moms said in unison.

  “That’s four months away! We can’t plan a wedding that fast.”

  “The wedding consultant makes all the arrangements, silly,” Emily’s mom said. “We’ll get Patrice. She’s fabulous.”

  “I’m already on it.” Gretchen’s mother pressed a button on her cell phone.

  Geez. Did she have the woman’s number on speed dial? How long had they been anticipating this wedding?

  Emily peered at Gretchen. “October seems so…soon. Don’t you think?”

  “If everything can be planned by then, why wait?”

  Unfortunately, Emily didn’t have a good response, at least not one that didn’t sound callous.

  “Sweetheart.” Emily’s mother’s lips filled the screen again. “Does this video thing add ten pounds, because you’re looking a little weighty.” She whispered that last part, like that’d help soften the blow. “Don’t ignore your inner fatty unless you want to look like a balloon in your wedding photos.”

  Emily’s mom was a die-hard fitness freak and Pilates instructor. Ever since Emily could remember, her mother had monitored her food intake and daily exercise. In their household, sugar was a four-letter word, so much so that when Emily was a kid she’d frequently misspell it on tests by writing suga. Her mom had many annoying sayings, like “diet like a beast, look like a beauty” and “sweat plus sacrifice equals success.” The inner fatty, as her mom called it, was the part of Emily that’d allowed her to gain almost fifty pounds by the time she’d graduated high school.

  “My weight is within normal range,” Emily said, not even trying to hide her irritation.

  “It’s best to be under target, dear. That way, if you’re bloated you’ll still be at your goal. I just want you to be healthy.”

  Emily suspected her mother’s concern had little to do with health but more about outward appearances.r />
  “Why are you going to Ojai?” Emily’s father asked.

  Emily could have hugged him for changing the subject.

  “I’m going to track down a birding story.” Emily smiled.

  “I thought you were shutting down that magazine.”

  Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have hugged him after all.

  Gretchen’s mother chimed in. “Isn’t the two-year deadline here yet?”

  “This is a major story, Mom,” Gretchen said. “It’s rare Moroccan―”

  “Madagascar lovebirds,” Emily said.

  “If this story doesn’t pan out, Emily will close the magazine for good and go back to her marketing position.” Gretchen turned and looked directly at Emily. “Right?”

  She felt like someone had turned up the heat two hundred degrees. Five pairs of unblinking eyes focused on her. They weren’t going to let up, and she had made a promise.

  “Yes,” Emily said. “If I don’t get the story, I’ll close The Tweet.”

  A hard lump formed in her throat, so big she couldn’t swallow without considerable pain. She had to find those lovebirds. Her future depended on it.

  Chapter Five

  Two’s a Crowd

  Emily opened her sunroof and breathed in the scent of citrus as she drove down a shady, orange tree–lined road. Ojai was even more picturesque than Jill had described. When she turned a curve she was greeted with a breathtaking sight: mountains, which towered at least five thousand feet, surrounded green, rolling hills of perfectly manicured crops as far as she could see. This would be the perfect spot for a wedding, not that Gretchen or their parents would go for it. They required something more extravagant. By the time they’d finished the video chat, the entire ceremony had been planned. Every time Emily had opened her mouth to make a suggestion, someone cut her off. Eventually, she just gave up and sat there like a tree stump.

  Emily was still shell-shocked about getting hitched so quickly. She was content, though, with the idea of marrying Gretchen. She felt comfortable having her future mapped out. The unknown could be risky. Look at The Tweet. It was dive-bombing faster than a magpie.

  Emily adjusted her Bluetooth headset and called Cole. “Hey, have you heard from Fran?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Text me her address. I’m driving right now and can’t write it down.”

  “I don’t exactly have it.”

  “Why not?”

  “She said to meet her at Bud’s Burrito ’n Bait Shop at seven.”

  “Why there?”

  “I’m not sure. Em, she’s kinda difficult.”

  Why did everyone have it in for Fran? She couldn’t be that bad. “I’ve dealt with challenging people before.” After all, look who Emily’s parents were.

  “Can you get me the number of the aviary in San Diego?” Emily asked.

  “You’re not gonna tell them about the lovebirds, are you?”

  “Of course not. No one knows about this but you, me, and Fran. Let’s keep it that way.”

  Emily heard typing, which probably meant Cole was googling the place.

  “I got it,” he said. “Want me to patch you through?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks, Cole.”

  After a few rings, a man answered. “Littleton Aviary.”

  “Hi. My name is Emily Wellington and I own The Tweet magazine.”

  “Hmm. I don’t believe I’ve heard of it. But we do subscribe to For The Birds.”

  Emily gritted her teeth so hard she was sure she’d cracked a molar. “I was wondering if Mr. Littleton was available.”

  “Speaking. What can I do for you?”

  “Oh. Great. I’m interested in finding out more about the fire that happened a few years back.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I was specifically looking for information about the Madagascar lovebirds that escaped that night.”

  Mr. Littleton released a deep, baritone laugh that seemed to last forever. “I wish I had a dime for every birder who’s called about that. Don’t tell me you’re looking for them, too?”

  “No. Not exactly.” Emily was a terrible liar, but she wasn’t about to tell him there’d been another sighting. “Do you think the rumors may be true? Could the lovebirds have survived?”

  “Not unless you believe in miracles. I had those birds since they were young. They’d never even lived in the wild. Sadly, I don’t see how they would have survived, especially not for this long.”

  “What was wrong with them? Why were they at the aviary?”

  “Probably an animal attack. They had scars on their throats and heads. Had some wing damage, too.”

  “So as far as you know, the sightings have never been verified?”

  “Nope, and I don’t expect they ever will be. This rumor has gotten blown way out of proportion. Kinda like Bigfoot.” Mr. Littleton released a hearty laugh.

  “Thanks for your time,” Emily said and disconnected. She didn’t want to get discouraged, but maybe Fran, and everyone else, was mistaken. No. Emily had to trust her instincts, and every cell in her body believed that the Madagascar lovebirds were in Ojai.

  Emily slowed when the speed limit dropped to thirty-five at the city limits. She wasn’t one to break rules, not in driving or anything else. She took in the surroundings as she rolled through town. It looked like a quaint place, with gift shops, vegan cafés, and used bookstores. Emily leaned forward, amazed at what she saw a block ahead. Hundreds, or maybe even thousands, of women crammed into a park filled with tents and music stages. Obviously, this was where the Ojai Women’s Festival was being held. Emily closed the sunroof in an attempt to mute the noise and slammed on her brakes when a group of partygoers stumbled into the street. They had on bikini tops and the shortest shorts she’d ever seen. Emily wouldn’t have the guts to wear something like that in the privacy of her own home, much less in public. She shook her head and continued down the highway, glad when she’d passed the madness.

  A couple of miles out of town, she turned down Reeves Road, which was a charming, winding path that led straight to the cabin…or at least, she thought it was the cabin. A beat-up car was parked in the driveway, and Jill had said it wasn’t fancy, but from the outside the two-story structure looked amazing. No Little House on the Prairie log cabin here. She parked and eyed the number on the porch railing. Yep, this was the right place.

  Emily opened the door, stretched her legs, and took a deep breath. The air was fresh, earthy. The cabin bordered a lush green sycamore and pine forest. Hopefully she wouldn’t be in Ojai long, but she couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful setting. She grabbed her binoculars and peered up at a black cottonwood, almost sixty feet tall. Perched on a branch was an American kestrel with a russet-colored back and double black stripes on its white face. When Emily heard the distinctive whistle of a black phoebe, she scanned the tree until his little black head and white belly were in view. She mentally thanked him for the warm welcome.

  Emily could have stood there all day bird-watching, but she wanted to unpack and head into town to meet Fran. After she grabbed her suitcases and walked up the steps onto the porch, she saw a huge potted plant in a purple container, which was where Jill had said the key was located. Great. Just Emily’s luck it looked like it weighed a hundred pounds. She strained to tilt the plant and peered down but didn’t see anything underneath. She grabbed both sides of the tub and lifted, almost knocking her back out in the process. Still no key. Emily was sure that’s where Jill had said it was hidden.

  What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t break in. She wouldn’t even know how to break in. Maybe if she jiggled the door handle it’d magically open. She put her hand on the knob and twisted, shocked to find it unlocked. A mixture of immense relief and concern filled her. It didn’t matter how low the Ojai crime rate was. Not locking your door wasn’t safe.

  When Emily stepped through the doorway, she dropped her bags and glanced around the semidarkened room. After her eyes adjusted, s
he saw a big-screen TV mounted on the wall, leather couch and chairs, fireplace, and gorgeous hardwood floors. A spiral staircase wound to the second floor, which was probably where the bedroom was located. She inched through the living room and into a dining area that featured a massive, very expensive-looking chandelier hanging over a glossy walnut table. Wow. Emily would have to upgrade the description of this from cabin to mini-mansion. She pushed open the saloon-style swinging doors into the kitchen, which was well stocked with an impressive array of shiny appliances Emily had no idea how to use. The only thing she knew how to make were Pop-Tarts, and even then she usually burned them.

  Goose bumps suddenly appeared on her arms, and a prickly sensation ran up and down her spine. An unsettling sensation rested in the pit of her stomach, along with the uncanny feeling that she wasn’t alone. Weird. Being in a strange place was doing things to her imagination. She shook off the odd sensation and opened the refrigerator, which was completely empty except for a carton of almond milk that had probably expired months ago. Grocery shopping would be high on her priority list. Emily shut the door and shivered again, with an even stronger awareness that someone else was in the cabin.

  “Hello? Is anybody here?”

  Real smart, Emily. It’s not like a burglar would respond. Basically, all she’d done was give him a heads-up so he could reload his pistol. She walked around the island in the middle of the kitchen and stopped, her breath catching in her throat. A glass filled with a disgusting green liquid sat next to a blender. She placed her hand on the cup. It was still cold, which meant someone had recently prepared the concoction. Oh my God, she wasn’t alone. A vagrant or thief or murderer must have broken in. That’s why the door had been unlocked. Emily needed to scram, and fast, so she could call for help.

  “Crap,” Emily whispered when she heard a noise, which sounded like someone running down the stairs. Frantically, she scanned the surroundings for a weapon. She’d never be able to lift the espresso machine, which looked like it weighed as much as the potted plant. Where were all the sharp knives? Or even a frying pan or spatula, something she could throw at the guy. As the footsteps grew louder, Emily’s heart almost beat out of her chest. It sounded like they were headed straight for the kitchen. Emily’s eye caught her sparkling, humongous ring. She could poke his eye out. Surely Gretchen would forgive her for any damage done if it saved her life. Emily snagged the revolting avocado-colored drink and squatted behind the island. She was shaking so much she had to hold it with both hands to keep it from sloshing everywhere.