I laughed. “It’s like when we were kids, and you didn’t want to get your dress dirty.”
Doug snickered. Meg gave him an unperturbed smile and said to me, “One is never too young to have good style. Or to want to travel, apparently. Even as a kid, you were so excited to see new places—you’d have thought that little vacation we were on was in Paris or something, you were so excited. It’s really wonderful that you’re finally getting to travel now.”
I was grinning so hard my face hurt. “I know, right? I’ve never been anywhere, well except that vacation, and now here, so I’ve got this huge list of places I’m dying to see, and now I’m finally going to start checking stuff off the list! And, I get to earn a degree at the same time.”
“Well, I may be biased, but I highly recommend academia,” Wil said, adding, “I’m a history professor.”
“Oh! That sounds fun,” I said. “Is that why you’re such an expert on the Foster family’s history?”
“Actually, it was my passion for the Foster history that got me interested in history in general. Now I’m a bit of a menace with the random historical trivia,” he said, his mouth quirking up at the corner. He flicked a glance at Meg then looked back at me, “Don’t worry though, I won’t launch into a history lecture, I promise.”
“You know, Finn,” Meg said, “when you talk to the council rep tomorrow, make sure to mention your plans.”
“That’s right,” said Wil. “The family has a scholarship program.”
“Wow, cool, thanks,” I said.
Nor stood up. “I’m going to heat some water for tea. Anyone else want some?”
“Would you mind boiling the water in a pot instead of a kettle? After you make your tea, I can use the leftover water to make Fuzzy a bottle,” I said.
“No problem.” Nor got some water going on the stove, and while Meg was talking to Wil about his job, I puttered around making Fuzzy his bottle. Nor went into the pantry, and I followed her, hoping I would find—
“Oh thank the coffee bean fairies! Coffee!” I said.
Nor smiled. “I found the tea in here earlier this afternoon. I think they’re stocked up on the essentials, despite the sparse appearance.”
“That must mean there’s a coffeemaker around here somewhere.”
“Probably…this house, it has all sorts of unexpected stuff.”
Meg appeared in the doorway. “Find what you need?”
Nor held up the box of tea, “Yes.”
“Is there a coffeemaker somewhere?” I asked, shaking the coffee can at Meg.
“The appliances are under the kitchen island. It should be in there.”
“Great!”
Meg stepped to the side so we could leave the pantry. “After you.”
I put the coffee back and went back to the stove to check the water. I looked behind me for Nor and caught Meg glaring at her. Was Nor drinking Meg’s private stash of tea? Nor gave her a blank look, went to get a mug, and came to stand next to me. The water was boiling, so I poured some for her, then put the pot on a cool burner and set Fuzzy’s bottle to soak.
“Does anyone want more pizza?” I asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“I’m going to feed Fuzzy, but I can help with the dishes when I get back,” I said.
“It’s taken care of,” said Meg.
“I’m on dish duty,” said Doug. When I raised my eyebrows, he laughed and said, “She bribed me.”
Meg stood, and so did Wil and Doug. “Well, thank you all for a lovely dinner. Wil, Nor, I know you both have work you need to do.” She turned to me. “Nor has an overseas conference call,” she looked at Nor, “starting soon, right?” At Nor’s nod, she turned back to me. “Wil is on a tight deadline for the papers he’s grading. And of course, Doug and I will be attending to the last minute arrangements for the weekend. So you get a chance to rest up, Finn. There’s no TV in your room, but the house has Wi-Fi if you need it. The password is Foster.” Meg folded her hands in front of her and stood there waiting.
I hid my surprise by fiddling with Fuzzy’s bottle, testing to see if it was warm enough. Given her earlier weird overprotectiveness of the house, it didn’t surprise me all that much that Meg was basically sending us all to our rooms. But this early and before even offering dessert? I’d just been in the pantry so I knew damn well that there were cookies and chocolate in there. Not to mention that my plans to make some after-dinner coffee when I was finished feeding Fuzzy just got canceled. I supposed I could always sneak back down and get some later if I was desperate.
With her back turned to Meg, Nor sent me a look that I couldn’t quite read. It looked kind of like sympathy, but it seemed like I should be feeling bad for her, not the other way around. At least I got to spend my night playing with a kitten—she was about to be stuck on a conference call. Ick.
Nor finished making her tea, then she and Wil grabbed their stuff.
Fuzzy’s bottle was warm enough, so I put his formula canister in the fridge, grabbed my messenger bag, and prepared to leave, too. Everyone else was kind of milling about, and I wasn’t sure what we were waiting for. It turned out we were waiting for Marshal Meg to dismiss us.
“Alright, see you all in the morning,” said Meg. “Breakfast is at nine.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand, and Wil and Nor headed out. I followed them up the back stairs, and Meg took up the rear.
“What happens tomorrow?” I asked.
“The council rep arrives at breakfast,” Meg said. “We’ll be spending the day with her.”
Well, that was as clear as mud, but I decided to let it go. I was more worried about feeding Fuzzy while his bottle was warm enough than dragging details out of Meg.
Nor and Wil had rooms down the hall from me, nearer the back stairs. They stood in the hallway with Meg, watching as I walked to my room. I felt the itch between my shoulder blades that meant they were staring at me, and it made me both self-conscious and irritated. I suddenly couldn’t wait to get away from them all.
As I opened my door, I gave them a little wave. “‘Night guys. See you tomorrow morning,” I said, then shut the door on the lot of them.
Chapter Twelve
Fuzzy was curled up on my pillow. He picked his head up and started purring as I approached him.
“Hey Houdini, how’d you get out of the bathroom?” The bathroom door was wide open. I did a quick survey and was relieved to find the bathroom was claw-mark free, and the litterbox had been used.
I walked back to the bed. “Good job, Fuzzy. Thanks for not making a mess. How about something to eat?” When I pulled the bottle out of my bag, Fuzzy ratcheted his purr up to 11. I laughed. “I see that you recognize the good stuff already. Okay, let’s eat.” I climbed onto the bed, back against the headboard. To my surprise, Fuzzy climbed right into my lap. He sure didn’t behave like a feral kitten. “Hungry, huh?”
While he guzzled his bottle, I said, “Well, Doug was right—and don’t you dare tell him I said that—but that was SO not a party.” I sighed. “At least the pizza was good. Mind you, Meg didn’t bother to ask anyone what kind they wanted. And get this: she didn’t offer us anything to drink, either. Or dessert!” Fuzzy flicked a glance at me. “I know, right? Who doesn’t offer dessert?” I wiped away a drop of formula that was sliding down his chin. “At least there’s coffee. Not that she offered us any of that, either. I suppose I can go and make some on my own. But I think I’m actually gonna have to sneak, because you know what? She sent us to our rooms for the night! Like we’re five years old or something!”
Fuzzy kneaded me as he ate, and I smiled at him. “You’re the nicest thing about this reunion by far, Fuzzy. How sad is it that I’m relieved to spend the night in here with you instead of having to socialize with the people I came here to meet? It wasn’t that anyone was mean, exactly. But…I don’t know…I feel like I don’t fit in.” And then I added in a softer voice, “It makes me want to go home.” Fuzzy looked up at me. “I know, not happen
ing. But still…” I sighed again. “Anyway, thanks for listening.”
Fuzzy finished his bottle, and I leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. I put my cheery voice on and said, “Good job on the bottle. It’s great to see you eating. No offense, but you’re gonna start looking like a Shar-Pei if that skin under your armpits gets any looser—we’ve got to put some weight on you and fill you out.”
I snuck downstairs to the kitchen so I could give his bottle a good wash. When I found the kitchen was empty, I took the opportunity to quickly brew myself some after-dinner coffee to take with me back upstairs. Nor appeared while I was in there. To my surprise, she made herself some tea and lingered in the kitchen with me, until we heard Meg coming. We decided to slip back upstairs before she caught us and had a fit.
Back in my room, Fuzzy was waiting for me on my bed. “Sorry I took so long. I just ran into Nor in the kitchen.” I sighed. “I can see that she was trying to show interest in me—she even asked about my road trip here—but the more I talked with her, the more I felt like the distant cousin. Which I am, so I don’t know why it’s surprising to me that I feel that way.”
When I leaned over to pet him, Fuzzy’s focus shifted to my necklace, and he started batting at it. “Well at least you appreciate my necklace. You know, I didn’t even get one compliment on it tonight?” I let him swipe at it for another minute, but when he went to chew on it, I tucked it safely into my shirt.
I hopped off the bed and changed into my sleeping outfit of yoga pants and a t-shirt. Fuzzy helped me by attacking my clothing as I pulled it out of my suitcase. I washed up for bed—trying to floss with Fuzzy in the room was a special experience—then I pulled a shoelace out of one of my sneakers, and we played with that for a while. By the time Fuzzy was tuckered out, I was too, so I climbed into bed early and called it a night. Fuzzy clambered onto the pillow and formed himself into a vibrating cat hat. As his purr lulled me, I wrapped my hand around my necklace.
It was round and thick, the weight somehow comforting. The surface had a five-petal star-shaped flower etched into it. Each petal was concave. It reminded me of the star you saw when you cut an apple sideways—the one with the little divots that held the apple seeds—especially since on the pendant, the concave petal that was the top arm in the star shape had a seed glued in it. When I was little, I liked to sit on my mom’s lap and run my fingers over the bump of the seed.
I almost never took the necklace off these days, except to bathe. Wearing it constantly was kind of the adult version of carrying a woobie around, but I didn’t care. I fell asleep clinging to my last bit of home.
By 3:30 a.m., both Fuzzy and I were wide awake. He needed another bottle, and my internal alarm clock was set to somewhere between “Morning Talk-Show Host” and “Time to Make the Donuts.” Plus, I never slept much. Just a few consecutive hours, and I was good to go. I usually got a lot done in the wee hours of the morning. Like laundry! I realized I could do laundry while I fed Fuzzy.
I put on my shoes before I went wandering around, just in case the house decided to object to my late-night jaunt by stabbing me in the foot with another splinter. Fuzzy watched me for a moment and then trotted ahead of me to the door. “Meow,” he said, pawing at the door.
“Tell you what, let me put the water on and grab the laundry basket I saw by the washer. You can ride in the basket when I take the laundry down. Okay?” Fuzzy sat back on his haunches, which I decided to take for agreement. I opened the door and slipped out before he could change his mind.
The hallway had the deep quiet that I associate with the middle of the night. Someone had left the hallway light on, but I didn’t hear anyone else moving around, so I assumed everyone was asleep. I was worried about the creaky floorboards waking everyone up, but I managed to make it downstairs without the house squawking at me. I got the water going, grabbed the laundry basket, and was back to my room in record time.
Fuzzy was sitting in the same spot by the door. I fetched him, his bottle, and my laundry and went downstairs. I started the wash, and returned to the kitchen with Fuzzy now riding in the empty laundry basket. In the time it took me to make his bottle, Fuzzy figured out how to get out of the basket. I snatched him up just as he was calculating whether he could jump from the table to the kitchen island.
“Not just Houdini but a daredevil as well, huh? You’re your own little variety act aren’t you?” I plunked him on my lap where he attacked his bottle.
As he ate, I surveyed the kitchen. I’d only needed to turn on the light above the stove. The lighter wood in the kitchen reflected the moonlight that was streaming in through the window over the sink, filling the kitchen with a soft glow that made the kitchen seem romantic.
While Fuzzy chugged, I started mentally remodeling the kitchen. I couldn’t help it—years of making the best of our cramped, cranky diner kitchen had turned my family into kitchen junkies. Anytime we’d seen a kitchen on TV, we’d play a game of date/marry/kill, kitchen edition. As I looked around me, I decided I’d date the stove, because old didn’t necessarily mean useless; I’d marry the kitchen island, because we’d always wanted one but never had the space for it; and I’d kill a huge chunk of the far wall and put in a bunch of windows. Seriously, what were they thinking, not having a view of the woods in here?
I shook my head. Forget them, what was I thinking? Hell, what was I doing? This wasn’t my kitchen, and I was willing to bet Meg wouldn’t want decorating advice from me. I was cuddling a critter that I was already becoming attached to and couldn’t possibly keep. And the more I thought about dinner last night, the more I had the sinking feeling that relatives or not, these weren’t my people.
I had one of those late night moments of clarity: I was in a strange kitchen, with a strange cat, surrounded by strangers, playing a mental game with dead people.
I was wrong, the moonlight wasn’t romantic, it was ghostly, and it made the kitchen seem alien.
I tried to take comfort in the sounds of the house sighing around me, tried to pretend that it was whispering in consolation and commiseration. But the house had an echoing emptiness that made it seem as lonely as I was, and it just reinforced my sense of isolation.
A loud creak had both me and Fuzzy swiveling our heads to the door.
Doug strolled into the kitchen, all tousled and sleepy. He looked at us, blinked and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. He looked like he’d been rolling around in bed. I thought, Oh no, don’t think about Doug in bed. Don’t think about Doug in bed. Too late.
“Hey, Finn.” His voice was sleep-edged, deep and slightly raspy.
“Hey. That’s some fabulous bed head you’ve got going there.”
He gave me a slow smile. “Must’ve been wrestling my sheets. What are you doing up?”
I looked down at Fuzzy and nodded at the bottle. “Feeding time. You?” I asked.
“I’m also having a snack attack.” He dropped his voice and said, “You feeling hungry, too?”
I nearly rolled my eyes. “Nope.”
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Doug asked as he walked over, opened the fridge, and surveyed its contents.
Because I’m having a private pity party, which you’re interrupting, thank you very much, I thought. I shrugged and said, “No sense in turning all the lights on when we’re just going back to bed.” As if he’d timed it, Fuzzy picked that moment to finish his bottle and start squirming. “See, there, all done,” I said, gently putting Fuzzy back in his basket with a “Stay.” To my relief, he plopped down and started grooming. I took the bottle to the sink. “I’ll just rinse this out, and we’ll be off.”
Doug closed the fridge and sauntered over behind me. I could feel his warmth radiating against my back. I ignored him and went about rinsing the bottle.
He stepped even closer, placing his arms on either side of me on the edge of the sink. He just rested his hands there, loosely, so I could easily step away if I wanted to. My heart sped up. He smelled good
, warm and sleepy and Doug-like. I closed my eyes, trying not to breathe him in, but I couldn’t help it with him all wrapped around me.
He leaned his chin on top of my head. “Feeling lonesome?” he said.
“Just tired,” I lied.
He tipped his head down so his lips were next to my ear. “I can keep you company, if you like.”
“Thanks, I’ve got Fuzzy.” His breath on my ear and in my hair made me break out in goosebumps. I shivered.
“Cold?” he whispered, his lips just barely grazing my ear, and before I could answer, he slipped his arms around me, in a loose hug.
All that warm, solid male felt really good wrapped around me. I almost went for it. I was so damn lonely. One-night stands were my relationship type of choice, and he had “booty call bandit” written all over him. In theory, I had no problem doing a Doug drive by.
Then Doug said, “Aw c’mon, Finn. We could open a bottle of wine, go find a quiet corner and stay up the rest of the night telling each other secrets, like we did when we were kids.” He paused, and I heard the grin in his voice. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
The reminder of us being kids made up my mind. We did spend one glorious night staying up till dawn and trading secrets. But in the morning, he’d told everything to Meg, and the two of them had teased me mercilessly for the rest of the vacation. And the thing was, I had the distinct feeling that he and Meg were still a team, and anything I said could and would be used against me.
“You’re sweet,” I said, patting his hand like he was a child. I pulled away and retrieved the laundry basket from the table. Miraculously, Fuzzy had stayed put. “But, I’ve got to get Fuzzy to bed.” I held Fuzzy’s basket between me and Doug like a shield. Fuzzy started bounding around the basket, burning off the energy his feeding had given him.
Doug smiled. “He doesn’t look sleepy to me.”
I snorted. “Just give him five minutes. He’ll be ready for a nap.”
Doug stepped closer. He stopped just a few inches from the basket. “Want some help getting all tucked in?”
A House for Keeping Page 6