EPILOGUE
“AIEEEEEE!” I LEAPT on the bed, tripped over a pile of clean laundry, and landed face-first in a pillow.
Joe’s footsteps thundered up the stairs, the new stairs he’d spent two weeks building. “What’s wrong?”
“Vár brought me another present. A rat this time.” I pointed at the wardrobe in the far corner, another of Joe’s projects. “It ran under there.”
Yes, I know what I said about no more cats, but when we bought the dilapidated ex-farm in the country five months ago, she’d been living in one of the rickety outbuildings. A skinny tabby, I’d named her after the Norse goddess of contract, which seemed appropriate given how we ended up with the property, and she’d soon worked out where the bowls of food were in the main house. She was sweet as anything apart from her penchant for
