Page 38 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Kip was feeling more than a little self-conscious the next morning when he waded through the rustling wreckage of what must have been the straw bale version of a pillow fight. Loose and fluffed straw was hip deep in some places.

The young crossers had decamped, bound for the breakfast that Reinier and Nonny had started in the kitchen, but Ash perched on an intact and upturned bale, one wing overspreading the golden nest where Tami slept with Biddie in her arms.

“Looks like the kids had a blast.”

“The stories were great. I’d never heard most of them.”

“Guess I kinda missed out.” Not that he had any regrets. Not a one.

Ash was studying him curiously. Kip hoped his tail wasn’t doing anything suspicious. His best friend could always tell when he was tiptoeing along the edges of the truth.

With a teensy quirk of a smile, Ash angled his chin toward the opposite corner of the loft. “There’ll be other chances. Kaga will be joining the enclave.”

“Oh, yeah?”

That was news. Or was it? Kip actually had to think for several moments. When was the last time he and Ash talked about more than paperclip counts and bulk orders of floor wax? Lately, all Kip could think about was Jiro. Some best friend he was.

“Ash,” called Kaga, who was watching the sunrise out the big upper-story double doors. “You need to see this.”

There was awe in his tone.

Kip’s tail definitely developed a guilty twitch as he trailed after. He hoped that the warming light would cover for him, making his blush less obvious.

Under the pale blue of the morning sky, Red Gate Farm’s acres were a froth of pink. Because the entire orchard had exploded into full bloom. Overnight.

Ash leaned way out, taking his time getting a gander. That knowing little quirk was back, but all he said was, “How about that.”