nodded. “Looking good. Some mouse with a cold neck is going to love that scarf.”
She gave a little giggle, the sound almost like the tinkle of the wind chimes on Ursula’s deck. “I think I’ll keep going until it’s a pot holder.”
Kimmik repositioned himself on the rug and laid his head on top of Sam’s foot. The sun had shifted far to the northwest, peeping through the small upper windows along the west wall to paint diagonal stripes across the room. Sam leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A stomachful of moose chili, a good dog at his feet and the sound of soft laughter as Ursula and Dana put their heads together over their project—tonight, Sam was content.
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