The rest of the day had gone fairly well, all things considering. Charlie sucked it up and went back to work with credible calmness, although the constant presence of Royce by her side and his promise to rejoin her later that evening certainly helped with that. She swept the shed (Royce's job, but he was too smart to point that out when he noticed the ferocity with which she swept), cleaned up all the files that had been laying out across the desk, and even managed to finish those prescriptions the Doc wanted a little after lunch.
Of course, when she went to hand them in, Doc took one look at her and promptly ordered her home. When she tried to argue, he quickly shushed her with a hand over her mouth, claiming that womanly problems were something best discussed with a lady doctor... or a grocery store clerk... but NOT him.
She had considered correcting him, but she realized that admitting the truth would probably force him to immediately change his decision and keep her under house arrest in the clinic until things with Alexander Crowne were straightened out. So, she let him believe what he wanted- being kept under house arrest would interfere with her plans for meatloaf and King siblings this evening.
So, with a light warning to go easy on Royce, Charlie left a full three hours earlier than usual, feeling a little elated despite the ever-present dull anxiety. She virtually skipped on home, promptly realized that the cats ate the meat she had left out on the counter to thaw, and skipped back to the grocery store to buy some more. A sale on pre-made desserts made her happier, so she came home with three pounds of ground beef, cat litter, and two $4 apple pies. If she were "paying them for their services" as Royce had put it, she might as well offer generous tips to keep them coming back. Or, ya know, just one coming back.
I'm being ridiculously loopy, Charlie thought as she loaded the loaf of seasoned meat mixture into the oven. Not that she didn't know why- being overly happy was better than being creeped out by the dastardly dumpster dude. She needed to calm down. Royce and Rosemary were expected in another hour or so, and if either saw her like that... well, Royce would likely worry while Rosemary would think she's crazy. Man, where are those stupid cats when you need them? A quick cuddle would put her in order.
Unbidden, memories of washing down her wolf came flooding back, and she smiled a bit. Okay, cuddling with him would be nice, too.
Rappa rappa rappa!
"Now who in the world could that be?" she wondered aloud, glancing back at the clock to make sure. Yeah, it was barely five. She had told the Kings to be here at 6. It wasn't... Alexander Crowne, was it?
Steeling herself against her suddenly tripled fear, Charlie edged toward the door and peeked through the peep hole... then, startled, promptly lost her fear and flung the door open.