The cast was already causing problems.
He kept his pace slow, checking out the manicured lawns and attractive homes on either side of the Wayne house. It was a newer neighborhood compared to his, but it had a nice, family feel to it. He could hear children’s laughter and he noticed that a few people had gotten an early start on decorating for the holiday.
He could imagine Hugo growing up here. Everything about it made him feel welcome.
Until he knocked on the door.
After his introduction and the first three minutes of silence that followed, he wondered why his cousin hadn’t prepared him for this possibility. Seamus was the father of some fairly precocious children, but he’d never experienced anything like it before.
This young man—who looked like he might be ten or eleven, at most—would break lesser men if Solomon set him loose in the interrogation room. All he’d have to do was stare at them the way he was staring right now, with the perfect combination of suspicion and apathy.
They’d spill all their secrets. Possibly cry.
A younger boy slipped under “The Interrogator’s” arm and joined the staring competition. Luckily, he didn’t feel the need to add to the silent treatment. “Are you here for the party?”
“I am,” Solomon said, relieved. “I was invited.”
Nothing. “By Bronte. Is she here?”
The older boy finally blinked and shook his head, his smirk revealing a telling set of dimples. “There’s no party here. You must be at the wrong house.”
Before he could respond, the younger boy did it for him. “You can’t lie to Thor, Lang. Aunt Bronte said someone was coming for the birthday party.”
“She meant Uncle Thor, not Avenger Thor, Barry.”
“She told Daddy he had long hair. Uncle Thor doesn’t have hardly any hair, and he’s already here.”
Solomon smiled. “I think she meant me too, Barry. My name is Solomon, so you can ask her if you want. She invited me to Hugo’s party yesterday, when I was getting this put on.” He wiggled the fingers poking out of his cast, drawing the injury to their attention. “You should have seen my arm before they wrapped it up. It was just hanging there like all the bones had been ripped out.”
“Eww,” they said together, their eyes glowing with interest.
“What happened to it?” Lang asked, still making no move to let him in. “And why isn’t it signed yet? Don’t you have any friends?”
“Did you drop your hammer on it?” The little one added hopefully.
“No hammer. And it is signed.” He shifted to show them the inside of his arm where Penny had drawn a pink heart and her name. “Only one at the moment, but maybe somebody inside could help with that. I broke it when my shower exploded and threw me across the room.”
Yeah, now they were interested, Solomon thought with satisfaction. He had five younger brothers worth of experience at this. He should have thought of it before. Anything gross or containing explosions was always fascinating at that age.
“It blew up?”
“How’s a shower just explode?”
A woman’s voice drifted toward them, moving closer in the dimly lit entryway. “Why are you answering the door, Langston? Who are you talk…Oh.” A woman in her twenties, wearing a red wrap-around dress that tied at her hip, blinked up at him with a pleased smile. She was stunning. And the warmth in her light brown eyes reminded him of Hugo. She had to be one of his sisters.
“Solomon Finn, I hardly recognized you.” She patted the two boys on their heads and shook her own. “Why are you giving Mr. Finn a hard time? Aunt Bronte told you he was coming, and you know he used to work with your Uncle Hugo.”
“Thor’s related to Penny and Wes? Little Sean too?” Barry asked, eyeing him with a new level of respect.
“That’s right, and Jake. So why don’t we let the poor man in?”
Lang’s face transformed in an instant, leaving a handsome, smiling young man and no evidence that The Interrogator had ever been there.
This one could run the world, he thought with silent admiration.
“Sorry, Mr. Finn. Come on, Barry.” He grabbed his brother’s hand and disappeared into the house as the woman stood back to wave him in.
“Thank you. I had no idea my cousin’s children were the references I needed to get through the door.” He’d have to remember to thank them.
Her laugh was lovely, almost musical as she took the bag he’d been holding and slipped her arm through his. “Don’t get a complex. Lang is exactly like my brother Emerson was at his age. You should have seen him when I started dating. You’d think they were guarding Fort Knox the way they act around strangers.”
“They’re protective and they have good instincts. Nothing wrong with that.”
Her smile grew and she squeezed his arm. “I’m Austen, by the way. And you’re very polite. Most of the family is gathered in the kitchen, but I’ll be giving you the grand tour while I find out what you use to get your hair looking that good.”