Rant of Ravens Read Free Page B

sea level to over seventy-five hundred feet as Rachel’s fingers clenched the wheel in a death grip.
    And now, she was alone in the house with a psycho bird. “Aunt Miriam? Where are you?”
    This time someone answered. “She’s outside.”
    Rachel tracked the voice to the kitchen, half afraid she’d find another talking bird. Instead, a woman about her own age stood at the counter, arranging cheese and meat slices on an oversized platter. Appliances gleamed from granite countertops, and a stainless steel oven in the corner filled the room with warm, stuffy air.
    “I was beginning to think there was no one home except for the parakeet,” Rachel said. “What’s with that pesky bird, anyway?”
    “Rachel Wilder!” the woman exclaimed, setting down a turkey slice. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she extended her hand. Her yellow hair was in a thick braid, and she wore a brightly colored flannel shirt that sparked roses in her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
    Rachel glanced at the turkey, thought of salmonella, then shook the woman’s hand. “Stanhope,” she corrected. “My name is Rachel Stanhope. And you are…?”
    The woman studied her for a moment, then refocused her attention on the platter. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
    Rachel shook her head. She hadn’t been in Elk Park in over four years, and didn’t know anyone here except Aunt Miriam and Gertie. And Rachel refused to believe that her stepcousin—a plump, short, dark-haired woman—had grown into this tall, thin blond. “Should I?”
    “I’m Lark.”
    It took a moment for the information to register. “Lark Drummond?”
    The woman nodded.
    “I don’t believe it!” Rachel hugged her. Lark had been one of Rachel’s childhood playmates. Every summer she had stayed with her family at the Drummond Hotel on the north edge of town. A local landmark, the hotel had been built in the early 1900s by one of their ancestors, James Drummond. Rumor was he’d sold the hotel in the 1920s for so much money that none of his family ever had to work again.
    Lark tilted her head. “You’ve gotten taller. Still, the family resemblance between you and Miriam’s amazing.”
    Rachel fingered her hair. “It’s the curse of the Wilder women.”
    “That’s probably why Perky was bugging you,” Lark said, offering Rachel a cheese slice. “He loves red hair. He used to drive Miriam crazy. Since her hair’s faded some, he leaves her alone.”
    “I take it he’s her bird?”
    “Actually, he belonged to William. Or, rather, belonged to a friend of William’s. The guy moved out of town, and the day he left, he showed up with the bird. Dropped him off in a wire cage, and took off.”
    “I can’t say that I blame him.”
    Lark laughed, and shoved the platter toward Rachel. “Help yourself. And don’t mind me. I’m just helping Miriam get things set up for later this afternoon.”
    “What’s the occasion?” Rachel asked, hoping nothing had been planned in honor of her arrival. All she really wanted to do right now was flake out on a couch somewhere and relax.
    “Miriam hosts the weekly EPOCH meeting.”
    “That’s right. I forgot.”
    EPOCH, an acronym for the Elk Park Ornithological Chapter, was the local birdwatchers’ club. Miriam had mentioned their Monday meetings when Rachel had called her back about staying at Bird Haven.
    The two of them had spent nearly an hour hammering out the terms of the arrangement. Rachel would live at the ranch for the summer, keep an eye on things, and host the weekly EPOCH meetings in Miriam’s absence. It was a free ride all around. It got Rachel out of New York City and bought her some much-needed time to figure out what to do about her mess of a life. And how much trouble could a group of blue-haired birdwatchers be?
    In return, Miriam got a reliable house sitter and an EPOCH baby-sitter.
    Rachel’s biggest problem had been convincing Jack to let her telecommute from Colorado. He had balked at the