Free Revived Spirits by Julia Watts Page B

Liv’s capris. Chewsticks! His chin quivered and worked itself up and down as he tried to explain to her how much he loved chewsticks.
    “Is that you, Liv, dear? Come on through to the kitchen.” Mrs. Havard’s cheery voice drifted through the reception room. Liv made her way past the grand pianos with Baxter in the lead. She pushed the door open, entered the kitchen, and scanned the room for attack birds.
    McGinty glowed like an evil jewel in the sunbeam that shone on his perch. Liv would have felt better if he’d been in a cage. It took him a full minute to give her a stony stare, one eye at a time. He chose not to fly over and bite her head.
    Mrs. Havard said, “Oh, so you’ve decided to be friendly today—good boy!”
    The macaw lowered his head—a submissive-looking gesture. Liv had never petted a parrot before. She stepped forward and stroked his wing feathers. McGinty leaned into the stroking and closed his eyes as if in rapture.
    Encouraged, she reached for the top of his head. McGinty opened his sharp beak wide and cut an eye toward Mrs. Havard, who was occupied filling glasses with orange juice. The beak moved closer, and Liv jumped when Mrs. Havard brought down her palm on the tile countertop with a thwack. “Don’t you dare, you beast! I’m sure she’s delicious, but she’s our guest. That’s a fine way to repay her attention, you rogue!”
    She spread a piece of toast with Marmite and placed it on a dish with the words, “Spoiled Bird” painted on the side. “Come get your treat, you naughty boy!” It didn’t seem like much of a dressing-down for someone who’d just tried to dismember an innocent bystander.
    Mrs. Havard pointed to her eyes and back at McGinty, then turned to the stove to deal with a whistling tea kettle. A jump and a wing flap landed McGinty at the end of the counter, where he leaned over as if to pick up his toast. Keeping one bright eye on Mrs. Havard’s back, he opened his mouth and stretched toward Liv. Liv broke eye contact and held up her hands, palms forward. McGinty, clearly pleased, took his toast and returned to his perch.
    Mr. Havard, in a business suit, burst into the kitchen, grabbed a stainless steel travel mug from the dish rack, and tipped it toward Liv in greeting. “Morning, my dear Liv! Sorry I can’t stay and enjoy your playing, but there’s only just time to swallow some juice and fill up with Earl Grey.” He poured tea into the travel mug, added sugar and milk, and held it out with a straight arm. McGinty swooped over, wrapped his toes around Mr. Havard’s wrist and dipped his beak into the steaming liquid. Liv tried not to stare.
    Mr. Havard shook the bird off his arm and made his way toward the hallway. “The Bechstein’s my favorite, but we paid more for the Steinway, so there you have it. Take your pick.”
    He gave Mrs. Havard a quick kiss. “Er, Frederica’s. . . in a mood.” He picked up a briefcase and was gone. Baxter roused himself to see his master to the front door and Mrs. Havard glanced toward the bedrooms. She sighed, poured another glass of juice, and headed down the hall.
    Liv could hear their voices—Mrs. Havard’s soothing tones, answered by rapid staccato bursts from Frederica. She returned to the kitchen, gave McGinty a kiss on the beak and Baxter a pat, then pulled a sweater from a wall peg. She took her violin case and shoulder bag from a kitchen chair.
    “Well, dear, I’m off to a rehearsal and Frederica’s got a French lesson, so we’ll leave you and the animals to it. Just lock the door on your way out if we’re not back when you finish.” She gave a cheerful wave, a striking contrast to the pouty look Frederica shot Liv as she stomped into the kitchen and slammed down her empty juice glass.
    Liv resisted the urge to return the look and simply said, “Thanks.” McGinty eyed Liv. His owners were barely out the door before Liv was in the reception room with the door closed, Baxter by her side.
    She chose the