by Ann McMan
She nodded.
He lowered his papers to the table and looked at her with a wounded expression. “But who will I get to help me with this project?”
Celine smiled at him. He sounded exactly the way he did when he was seven years old, and she’d had to tell him that he couldn’t come over to play with Barbies because Maddie had the mumps.
“You have an excellent resource right at your fingertips.”
“Who?”
Celine raised an eyebrow.
“Maddie?”
Celine nodded.
“Fer-get-it. No way. Nuh uh. Not in this life.”
“Why not?”
“With all due respect . . . are you nuts? I might as well ask that snake-handling preacher.” He paused to consider what he’d just said. “On the other hand . . . with his big hair and tasseled loafers, even he would be likelier to help me out than she would.”
Celine shook her head. “David, you underestimate her.”
“I don’t think so. As soon as Henry entered her life, she morphed into some kind of twisted, Goody Proctor clone.”
“She just wants to be a good parent.”
“She’s already an exceptional parent. Somebody just needs to tell her that she doesn’t have to turn this joint into a mini-version of Jonestown to do it.”
Celine gave him a sad smile. “Well, her tenure as a doting parent is probably going to be short-lived.”
David looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“I went to see James Lawrence last week. He wants his son back.”
Her words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
“Did you tell Maddie this?”
“I didn’t have to,” Celine said, in a quiet voice. “She already knows.”
HENRY STOOD NEXT to the split rail fence behind the barn, feeding plugs of wild garlic to Before. He’d collected a pretty good mound of the stinky bulbs, and had them piled up in an old, white paint bucket.
Pete came trotting over at one point to see what he was up to, but as soon as he got within a foot of Henry’s stash, he turned up his nose and headed back to the porch. The late afternoon sun was hitting the front of the house now, and Pete seemed anxious to return his favorite spot atop an old rug on the glider. He had a great view of the pond from there, and he could be quick to respond if any unwelcome critters showed up for a drink.
Maddie explained that even when it looked like Pete was napping, he was really still on the job, watching over them all.
Henry knew that Gramma C. would be unhappy with how his hands smelled. They were pretty stinky right now. When he rubbed his nose a minute ago, the odor was so strong it nearly made his eyes water.
Maddie told him that it wasn’t good to feed garlic or onions to Before. But when Henry asked her why, Maddie just looked out across the pasture and said that Joe Baxter probably wouldn’t want it. Henry didn’t understand why Mr. Baxter wouldn’t want his cows to eat something they liked so much. At least, Before really seemed to enjoy it. She’d already eaten almost half the garlic bulbs in his bucket.
She liked Starlight peppermints, too. And Maddie let him keep a bag of the red-and-white striped hard candies in an old coffee can in the barn. He thought it might be nice to give a few of those to Before after she finished her garlic.
She sure was taking her time. As she chomped away, long, hollow stalks from the plants stuck out from both sides of her mouth. She looked just like one of those old men who were always sitting around in the back booth at Aunt Bea’s. Only her whiskers were stained green, instead of yellow from too much coffee and cigarettes.
Daddy smoked, too. And he had a beard now, but his was dark, so you couldn’t see any stains on it. But maybe that was just because of the computer picture. Henry got to see him every week on the big screen in Maddie’s office, and it was just like watching a TV show. There were always other people walking around behind him and lots of bright lights making big white spots on the screen.
He hadn’t seen Daddy’s new leg yet, but Daddy said it was working okay, and he was getting used to walking around with it. He said that in another week, he’d be well enough for Henry to come and see him at the hospital.
Then it wouldn’t be very long until he could come home.
Henry was excited about that. There were so many things he wanted to show his daddy, and he couldn’t wait for him to meet Pete and Before. Now that Daddy was out of the army, Henry was sure that he would want to stay on the farm with Maddie and Syd, too. They could all live together here. They even had one more empty bedroom upstairs. And he knew that Daddy would love Uncle David and Uncle Michael as much as he did.
Henry liked this time of day. It was starting to stay light longer, and he could be outside for a while now after supper—as long as he had his homework done. Syd always made sure of that. And she always knew if he tried to sneak outside before it was finished. Uncle David said she had eyes in the back of her head. Henry wasn’t positive about what that meant, but he knew it had something to do with how you could never get away with anything. He knew better than to try, but Uncle David seemed to think that he could get away with things if he was really careful and didn’t leave tracks.
Like that time Astrid ate all of those hard-boiled eggs that Uncle Michael had sitting out for a big batch of potato salad he was going to make. Astrid had a big accident on the porch right after that, and Uncle David gave her a rear-end bath in the kitchen sink because it had a sprayer he could use to rinse off all the soap. He made Henry promise not to tell Syd, and he didn’t, either. But she figured it out when she tried to use the sink later that night, and the water wouldn’t drain out. She found clumps of hair and . . . other stuff . . . in the drain. He had never seen her get that mad before. But even then, she didn’t yell at him.
But Uncle David never tried to wash Astrid in the kitchen sink again, either.
Before was down to the last few clumps of garlic in his bucket. Henry was about to go to the barn for the can of peppermint candies when he heard the kitchen door open and close. He looked around the corner of the building and saw Uncle David headed his way. Henry guessed that meant that Uncle David had finished his own homework.
All day, Uncle David had been shut up in Maddie’s study, working on some kind of special project. He said it was something he was doing to help raise money for the sad woman who owned the red Camaro before it got broken up in the tornado. Henry just hoped this project didn’t mean that he would lose his own part of the famous car. He loved his steering wheel. And even though he wasn’t allowed to bring it inside the house, he went out behind the barn and dusted it off every day. He couldn’t wait to show it to his daddy. His daddy knew everything about fixing cars, and Henry was positive that someday his daddy would find a way to hook his steering wheel up to another car that would go really fast.
As long as Uncle David didn’t try to do anything else with it first.
Henry didn’t want to be selfish, but he didn’t want to lose his steering wheel, either.
Even though Maddie didn’t really like it all that much.
Uncle David was walking right toward him now, and he was carrying two cups of something.
“Hey, sport?” he called out. “Want some lemonade?”
Gramma C. made great lemonade. It was way sweeter than Syd’s, which always made his face pucker up when he drank it.
He wasn’t allowed to have sodas.
Henry put his bucket down and reached out to take the cup from Uncle David.
“Did you finish your homework?” he asked.
Uncle David looked confused. then he seemed to understand what Henry was asking about. “Yes, I did. Your gramma helped me figure some things out.”
“She’s really smart,” Henry agreed. “Just like Maddie.”
Uncle David made a face when he looked down at Henry’s bucket.
“What are you feeding her?” he asked, gesturing at Before.
“Garlic plants,” Henry said. “She really likes
them.”
Uncle David waved a hand back and forth in front of his face. “Apparently.”
“Astrid likes them, too.”
Uncle David looked at him with a worried expression, and Henry giggled. Then Uncle David messed up his hair. Henry ducked and tried not to spill his lemonade.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” Uncle David asked.
Henry just laughed.
“You’re just like your . . . just like Maddie,” he said.
Henry didn’t mind that one bit. He hoped he’d grow up to be tall like Maddie, too.
Uncle David looked at Before, who had finished her garlic and was now licking her lips with her fat cow tongue. She belched. It didn’t smell very good.
Uncle David scrunched up his face and waved his hand back and forth some more. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Do you wanna help me feed her some peppermints?” Henry asked.
“Believe me when I tell you this, Henry,” he said. “No amount of peppermint will help her now.”
“But she really likes them.”
Uncle David nodded. “I know, sport. And Astrid likes hard-boiled eggs. But you don’t see me feeding those to her, do you?”
Henry thought about Syd and the kitchen sink.
“No.”
“Come on inside,” he said. “Let’s see if we can’t get you . . . fumigated, before Maddie and Syd get back from Charlotte.”
Henry was excited about that. Well. Not the cleaning up part. But it would be fun when they got home.
Uncle Michael was going to make pizzas, and they were all going to watch baseball. Henry loved baseball, and so did Maddie and Syd. Maddie was a Phillies fan, and Syd liked the Orioles. Uncle David said they were perfect for each other because both of their teams sucked. Syd just stuck out her tongue at him, and Maddie told him that he didn’t have the character it took to back a losing team. Uncle David just sighed and said it was lucky for them that all those players looked so good in white pants.
The sound of a car horn made them both jump and turn around.
Syd’s Volvo was coming up the lane. Pete saw it, too, and he jumped off the glider and started galloping toward the car. Syd smiled and waved at them from the passenger window.
Henry handed his empty lemonade cup to Uncle David and took off, running as fast as he could to try and beat Pete to the car.
MICHAEL WAS GETTING ready to put the first of their two pizzas into the oven.
Tonight, he’d made one with sundried tomatoes, garlic, and vegetarian sausage, and another with fresh basil, goat cheese, and crispy prosciutto. Fortunately for all of them, Henry wasn’t fussy when it came to pizza—if it was baked with enough sauce and cheese, he’d eat just about any kind of topping.
Syd, Maddie, Henry, and Celine were all in the front parlor, watching the Yankees get their butts smacked by the Orioles.
David wandered back to the kitchen to get another glass of wine. He told Michael that the game was an abomination, and it was too painful for him to keep watching.
“I didn’t know you were such a Yankees fan,” Michael said.
David shot him a withering gaze.
“I hate baseball with a passion, and you know that.”
“Then what’s so painful to watch?” Michael slid both pizzas into the wall oven and set the timer.
David gave a dramatic sigh. “They’re playing in Baltimore, so Jeter is wearing his gray uniform, which does nothing to showcase his . . . attributes.”
Michael shook his head. “However will you bear the disappointment?”
“Beats me. He really needs to take that road uni up a bit in the crotch.” David held up the bottle of Meandro. “This stuff is pretty tasty. How many more bottles of it do we have?”
“You’ll have to ask Maddie. She brought that back from Charlotte.”
“Really?” David looked more closely at the label on the bottle of wine. “It must be a good one, then.” He picked up his glass and filled it to the rim. “How many minutes until the pizza is ready?”
Michael glanced at the timer. “About twelve.”
“Well . . .” David leaned against the center island. “I guess I can hang out here and keep you company then.” He took a big swallow of the wine.
“I appreciate the condescension.”
“Always do the least you can do.”
“And while we’re on that subject,” Michael said. “Why did you take all those vases back to Gladys? We’re just going to need to borrow them again.”
Next week was the grand re-opening of the Riverside Inn, and they were hosting a huge open house to celebrate. Everyone was invited. Nadine was helping Michael prepare the food, and David was in charge of planning a ceremony to commemorate the inn’s—and the town’s—return to near normalcy. It had been a long haul, but now it was time to celebrate how far they all had come.
David shrugged. “I needed an excuse to go and check on her. And if we have to borrow them again, it gives me another reason to go out there. Besides,” he picked up a stray bit of cheese and popped it into his mouth, “Gladys is helping me out with something special.”
That couldn’t be good news.
“You and Gladys are collaborating on something?” Michael asked.
“Yes, Doubting Thomas. Is that so hard to imagine?”
“David.” Michael sighed. “A cure for cancer is hard to imagine. Oprah without a Wacoal is hard to imagine. You colluding with Gladys on anything is impossible to imagine.”
David gave him the finger.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Will you go and grab that big serving tray and bring it over here so we can carry everything up to the parlor?”
David took another big swig from his wine glass and topped it off again before setting it down. “Don’t touch this.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Michael held up both hands. “I heard your backwash all the way over here.”
David turned toward the big sideboard that dominated the back wall of the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh my god!”
“What is it?” Michael looked up from the utensil drawer.
“You have to come over here and see this. It’s just so precious.”
“What is?”
David pointed toward the corner of the room, where Astrid reposed on her “kitchen” bed. This model was upholstered in tan cashmere with chocolate piping and ornamented with an embossed gold crown.
Michael walked over to take a closer look.
Astrid was asleep with her head propped up on her curled front paws, and her multiple chins spilled over the sides of her legs like a furry waterfall.
“She looks like an angel,” David whispered.
“She looks like Winston Churchill after a three-day bender,” Michael replied.
David frowned at him. “Where is my cell phone?” He was patting the pockets of his pants. “I want to take a picture of her.”
Michael turned back toward the island. “How should I know?”
“Then where is your cell phone?”
Michael shrugged. “Probably upstairs on the dresser.”
David sighed and looked around the kitchen. “I’ll use Cinderella’s instead.” He tiptoed over to a table beside the porch door and picked up Maddie’s cell phone. He walked around and took several photos of the snoring dog from multiple vantage points.
“These will make wonderful holiday cards,” he said.
“Sure they will—once you Photoshop out that puddle of drool.”
David stood up and walked to where Michael stood. “You’re always so critical of any ideas I have.” He held up the phone. “Just look at these images.” He scrolled through them. “Any one of these would make . . .”
He stared at the phone with his jaw hanging open.
Michael looked up at him. “What?”
David was still staring down at Maddie’s phone.
“What?” Michael asked again. When David still didn’t reply, he sighed and grabbed the phone. “Wh
at on earth is the matter with you?” He looked at the photo. “Oh. My. Loving. God.”
David grabbed it back. “Let’s see if there are any more.” He quickly scrolled through Maddie’s photo album. There were half-a-dozen photos of a blonde-haired drag queen wearing a ludicrous pink body suit and black bustier.
“I so do not believe I’m seeing this,” David murmured as he flipped back and forth through the images.
Michael chuckled. “Well. I guess we know where the girls spent their night on the town.”