I shook my head, “Nope, I’ve got everything I need in my bag.”
“Great, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” and she closed the door.
I prowled around my new space. The room was small, containing a bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a dresser. It was the perfect size for Fuzzy to explore without getting into trouble.
There was a window, but the view was blocked by a big tree. I didn’t mind. Staring into the limbs of the tree made me feel a bit like I was in a treehouse.
I checked out the bathroom. It had enough room for me and would be a good place to sequester Fuzzy if needed. There was even room for his litterbox under the pedestal sink.
Thinking of Fuzzy reminded me how badly I needed a shower. I stripped and looked around for a place to put my necklace. There were hooks for towels on the back of the door, so I hung it there, then climbed into the shower. After some chugging and sputtering, the water came on steadily.
“Oh thank you,” I told the shower as the hot water poured over me. “For an old house, you sure know how to treat a girl right!”
I might have lingered in the shower, but my cell phone rang. I wrapped a towel around myself and ran to dig my phone out of my purse. A quick glance at the number told me it was the vet.
“This is Finn.”
“Hi, it’s Dr. Meriwether.”
“Changed your mind and decided to keep him after all?”
He laughed. “Nope.”
I sighed. “Okay, well, they said yes, so I can hang onto him for the weekend. How late are you open? I’m just getting out of the shower, but I can pop right back over as soon as I get dressed.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m over on Old Postal Road.”
“Post, Old Post Road. You’re in luck. I might be driving right by you, depending on which end of the road you’re on, in which case I can drop him off. What number?”
“Seriously? A vet that makes house calls?”
He laughed again and said, “Shocking, I know. And, I really do appreciate you guys going to the extra effort and keeping an eye on the little guy for the weekend, so I don’t mind making the effort. What’s the address?”
“It’s 55. It’s kind of in the middle of the woods that are by the convenience store where I found Fuzzy.”
There was a pause and when he spoke again, all the laughter had gone out of his voice. “You’re a Foster?”
Oh jeez. Not him too. I guess he hadn’t looked at the name on Fuzzy’s chart too closely. I said, “From a distant branch of the family, but yeah.”
There was a brief pause. “Okay.”
“If it’s a problem, really, I’ll just come and get him.”
“No…no, that’s fine. I’m going right by there. I’ll drop him off.”
“Uh, alright, if you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, well, just a heads up, though. The house is kind of hard to find.”
“I know where it is. I’ll come by soon.”
I thanked him again, and we hung up. I really needed to talk to Meg about whatever was going on with her and the people around here. Maybe she was in a territorial dispute with some local conservationists. Given how pretty it was here, that’d make sense.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Finn?” It was Meg. Jeez, it hadn’t even been a half hour.
I clutched my towel closer and called, “Not dressed yet!”
“Do you need anything?”
“Nope, I’m fine.”
“Okay. I’ll be back to collect you in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” It occurred to me that I might be holding up dinner, and I scrambled to dig some clothes out of my suitcase. I didn’t have anything in Meg’s league, so I just grabbed my dark-blue jeans and a knit top. Once dressed, I hung my towel and retrieved my necklace. I never went anywhere without it, but since it was a family heirloom, I felt especially proud to wear it at dinner. I took a quick peek in the mirror. I’d inherited my mom’s thick, wavy blond hair, and I kept it short so it was easy to manage. A quick finger comb, and I was good to go. I put my shoes on and headed out to find Meg.
As soon as I took one step into the hallway, the warped wooden floor tripped me. I got to see the lovely flooring up close and personal and hear how nicely the wooden acoustics amplified the thud I made.
“Ow, that looked painful,” a male voice said.
“Could be worse,” I said. When I got a look at the source of the voice, I thought, It’s worse.
Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to me that if Meg was here, her brother Doug would be, too. I glanced up at all six foot something of him and did my best not to sigh like an idiot. Son of a bitch, he’d gotten even better looking with age. What was it with their family anyway? If Meg looked like a model from a Chanel ad, Doug looked like he’d strutted off the Abercrombie and Fitch ad on the adjacent page.
Thinking of Doug half naked in an Abercrombie ad was not a good idea. I’d met him during the same summer vacation I’d met Meg. Images of me following him around like a puppy flashed through my head. Not an experience I was anxious to repeat.
Normally, the idea of crushing on your cousin would have grossed me out so much that all of Doug’s hotness would’ve been neutralized by my disgust. But in this case, we were so far removed that “cousin” was really stretching it. My mom had said our great-, great-, great-, great-something-er-others had been related back in the day. That connection was so distant that I’d asked my mom how she knew we were related at all. She’d muttered something about having had a genealogy hobby back before “an impertinent child” took up all her time. Then, she’d just shaken her head and gotten what my dad called her “give it up, I’m not gonna budge” look and informed me that we were family, no matter how far removed, and I’d be calling them cousins to be polite. The “or else” was implied.
I was trying to peel myself off the floor when my “cousin” Doug leaned down, grabbed my hand, and hoisted me up. He held onto my hand a little longer than he needed to, giving me that teasing smile I’d absolutely not been thinking of over the intervening years.
Well, maybe him being here wasn’t so bad. Maybe he had fond memories of me, too.
He asked, “And who might you be?”
Or not.
“She’s Finn,” Meg called, striding down the hallway.
“Really?” he said, giving me a slow once over.
He still hadn’t let go of my hand, so I was kind of at a loss. I gave him a brisk handshake. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Nice to see you again.” I took my hand back.
Doug slipped into big brother mode and started razzing Meg. “Did you trip her?”
I jumped to Meg’s defense. “Of course she didn’t. She wasn’t anywhere near me, you boob. You just saw her coming down the hall yourself.”
He broke off giving Meg an amused look to give me one. “Did you just call me a boob?”
“I did.”
He barked out a laugh. “You really are Finn.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I turned to Meg. “I was just coming to find you. Where’s the party?”
Chapter Eight
“Party?” said Doug. “Oh boy.”
Meg gave him a look, then turned her attention to me. “It’s really more of an intimate soiree than a big party. Feeling better? You look like you feel better.”
I barely had a chance to nod in response before Meg said, “Good,” and hooked her arm through mine. As she talked, she slowly walked me down the hallway toward the back of the house. Doug trailed after us.
“About the reunion. Help me out—I’m kind of at a loss here. After you called, I checked in with the reunion organizers, and they told me all about your family—”
“Wait, what? How do they know anything about my family?” Because that wasn’t creepy at all.
“The reunion invitations are sent out by a…there’s a family—it’s kind of like a historical society�
�they’re big into the whole Foster genealogy thing, and they keep track of the family tree. All of the family tree. Your mom was a Foster, as are you, so of course your family is on their radar. Speaking of your mom, she never mentioned the reunions to you at all?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“But you know all about the Fosters, our history…our traditions?”
I shook my head again.
Meg huffed. “My guess is they just assumed she taught you all about being a Foster from the time you were small, so they didn’t bother to give you any info on the reunion when they invited you. Ridiculous. I mean really, not everyone in the family gets the Foster lore drilled into them from birth.”
“Cretins,” said Doug.
“Lazy,” said Meg. “They dropped the ball.” She looked exasperated.
I smiled and shrugged. “Well, my mom did say we were just a tiny twig on a distant branch of the family tree—”
“Doesn’t matter. A Foster is a Foster, no matter how thin the blood. They should have reached out.” Meg sighed, shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice had softened. “And well, they said you lost your dad just recently—our side of the family really should have made an effort, offered some kind of support.” She glanced at Doug, paused a bit, then said, “We lost our mom recently, too, so I know it’s tough.” She gave my arm a little squeeze.
I felt a wave of empathy for her and squeezed her arm back, saying, “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Meg gave me a sad smile, but Doug didn’t make eye contact when I looked back at him. He just looked at the floor.
We reached the end of the hallway and stopped at a staircase at the back of the house.
Meg turned to face me, her hand on my arm. “I have the feeling that this reunion isn’t going to be what you expected. But I hope you’ll stay here the whole weekend anyway. Give us a chance to get to know you better, even if this isn’t what you had in mind…. Having family to support you is important. Especially now.”
“Of course I’ll stay, Meg.” She looked so relieved that it occurred to me she must have been really lonely. She’d said on the phone that she lived here. Thinking of her in this big old house, trying to cope with her grief, had me stepping forward and hugging her as I said, “And I really am sorry about your mom.”
She did the stiff hug with the awkward pat on the back thing, ending the hug quickly. Doug was hanging back a few feet so I didn’t try to hug him, but I sent a sympathetic look his way.
“Let’s go join the others,” she said. As we descended the stairs, she added, “Everyone is in the kitchen.”
“Oh good, is there food? I’m starving!”
Doug snickered behind me. I shot him a questioning glance over my shoulder. He said, “Meg doesn’t cook.”
“True,” said Meg. “But I can order in just fine.”
At the foot of the stairs, there was a sort of mudroom area that doubled as a laundry room. Meg pointed to the washer and dryer and said, “Finn, feel free to use these. Raid the cupboards for any laundry stuff you need.”
“Thanks so much,” I said. I’d left my nasty clothes soaking in the tub, but I really needed a proper washing machine.
Crossing the hallway, we walked past the back door and into the kitchen.
After the dimness of the rest of the house, I had to fight the urge to shrink back into the shadows like a vampire confronted with sunlight. Someone had actually used a light-colored wood in the room. Not only that, but they’d turned on the lights. Like, all the lights. The effect was super bright and in a minute or so, when I could see again, I’d probably find it cheery.
As my eyes adjusted, I scoped out the space. To my right, flanked on both sides by cupboards and counters, the sink stood under a window in the back wall. It was dark now, but during the day I bet it looked out on the woods. My mom would’ve called it a bribe window. It enticed you with a gorgeous view, and then while you were standing there, you wound up doing the dishes.
Of course there were no dishes in sight. The kitchen’s butcher block island didn’t even have a bowl of fruit on it. The room was so spotless that it reminded me of a magazine photo. With its miles of empty counter space, the kitchen was begging for someone to come on in and cook up a storm. But there wasn’t an ounce of culinary activity in sight.
My attention was drawn to a big rectangular table occupying the left side of the room. Sitting at the table was an Asian woman and a black man. To my relief, they were both dressed casually. The Asian woman had her shoulder-length hair down and wore a blouse and jeans. The black man had glasses and wore a button-down shirt and slacks. Both were on laptops, and the Asian woman was texting as well. They looked up when we walked in, and both of them stood up as we approached.
Meg said, “Well, we’re all here now. This is Finn. Finn, this is Noriko—”
“You can call me Nor.”
“And Wil.”
“You can call me Wil,” he said with a cheeky little smile. Nor rolled her eyes and grinned.
While I shook hands with them both, and we exchanged “hi’s” all around, I was thinking, This is it? Meg had said it was intimate, but this wasn’t even enough people to qualify for a decent orgy.
Meg looked at me and said, “Not what you expected, right?”
I gave her a small smile. “Not exactly, no.”
Meg looked at Nor and Wil. “Finn never learned about the reunions—she doesn’t know anything about our family.” They both looked startled, and Wil looked like he was about to say something, but Meg held up her hand. “I know you’re the history expert, Wil, but there’s no need to drown her with the full annals of the Fosters. Let’s start with the short version.” Meg turned to me. “Basically, the reunions are a, I guess you’d say it’s a ‘getting to know you’ kind of thing. The family is huge—spread out all over the world. So, you can imagine it’s hard to keep a sense of Foster family pride intact.”
I nodded and glanced at Wil and Nor, who were also nodding. They were watching Meg intently, like they were hearing this for the first time, too. Maybe they didn’t know as much about the Foster family as Meg thought they did. It made me feel a bit better to know that I wasn’t the only one out of the loop.
Meg continued. “That Foster historical council I told you about? They decided that a way to, uh, foster, connections within the family was to invite people ‘home’ to the original Foster lands and to this house that’s been in the family since, I don’t remember the year, but let’s just say it’s been here forever.”
“That’s cool of them, to make an effort to share this place. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s really beautiful,” I said.
Meg said, “We take great pains to keep it that way. Which is why we don’t do huge reunion parties. We want to share, yes. But the house is old and kind of fragile, so it’d be unwise to throw a big party and have a ton of people running around. Not to mention, that’d be counterproductive, since the idea is to actually get to know one another. So instead of one big reunion, we do a series of small gatherings.”
Ohhkay. To me, that just raised a whole bunch of questions. How often did they do this? Was it a one-and-done kind of deal, where you only got to visit once? How did they pick who got invited? It sounded kind of odd. From the look Nor was giving Meg, she thought so too, but she didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either. I just nodded.
“Your group is the last one for this round of reunions,” said Meg. “Sorry if you’re disappointed.”
My manners shouldered their way past my sinking enthusiasm, and I smiled. “No, not at all. I mean, it’s not what I expected, but I’m thinking about it, and I guess it makes sense. Big parties can definitely get out of hand.” I patted the kitchen island. “And we wouldn’t want to damage you, sweetie, now would we?”
Nor’s eyebrows shot up, and Wil looked a little alarmed. “Are you talking to the house?” he asked.
Doug laughed. “Oh man. That brings back memories. When we were kids she would talk to everyt
hing. And I mean everything—the trees, the rocks, the dishes. You still do that?” he asked with an incredulous smile.
I shrugged. “Well, yeah.” At the diner, people were used to me talking to everything like it was a person. And it was such a habit I didn’t even think about it as unusual.
Nor and Wil seemed to take it in stride, Doug seemed to think it was funny, and Meg said, “That’s…cute.”
There was an awkward pause, and my stomach decided to fill the silence by growling loudly. I rubbed my belly and said, “Well clearly, I’m hungry. What’s the deal with dinner?” Food would help make this more festive. Food made everything better.
“As I said, I don’t cook,” said Meg. “But the refrigerator and pantry are fully stocked. You’re welcome to help yourself. And now that we’re all here, I’ll order some pizza. It should be here in half an hour or so.”
First there were no people, now it was fend-for-yourself food? This was the weirdest family reunion, get-together, whatever you wanted to call it, ever. Although how would I know? Maybe this is what some families did. But my parents would have passed out in shame if guests showed up, and we didn’t have something to eat and drink laid out for them. Maybe that was just a diner people thing?
Thinking of the diner had me looking around the kitchen again while Meg texted for pizza, and the others made small talk. Something about the place seemed off, and it was bugging me that I couldn’t put my finger on it. Well, there was no food, sure. And it didn’t really smell like a kitchen to me. With dawning horror, I rescanned the room. There were no appliances. There were no appliances? WHERE WAS THE COFFEEMAKER? No food was one thing. But no coffee? What kind of freaks of nature were these relatives of mine?
I was about to ask Meg, as calmly as possible, if there was a coffeemaker hiding somewhere, when knocking at the front door derailed me.
A House for Keeping Page 4