Butterflies fluttered through my stomach. “That would be nice.”After our respective showers, Austin using one in a spare bedroom and opting to wear his somewhat dirty clothes instead of the purple house sweats, we landed back downstairs. Niamh sat in the TV room with my dad, her feet up and a beer in her hand. Neither of them spoke, just stared at the blaring TV.
I noticed one of the dolls sitting on a chair in the corner, the baby face turned down, its eyes much too lifelike for my taste, given the dolls in this house actually did come to life.
“What is that thing doing there?” I pointed.
My dad struggled to swivel in his chair, trying to see what I was talking about. Niamh, who now had the flexibility of a much younger woman, easily turned and glanced at the offending doll.
“Your mammy brought it down.” Niamh took a sip of her beer, unperturbed.
“Why? What was she doing in the doll room?” I demanded.
“She thought you had a love child and went to check it out,” my dad said, equally as unperturbed.
“A…what?” I stared in disbelief.
“You might have a real rat problem, Jessie,” my dad said, grabbing the remote and putting the TV on mute. “There was some awfully big thumps from above. That’s the second floor—you shouldn’t have that kind of noise coming from the second floor.”
“Woulda been better off with that love child instead of rats, eh, Jessie?” Niamh asked, laughter infusing her eyes.
“Ah well, I don’t know. Rats are easier to get rid of. Though…” My dad swiveled again, this time to look at me. “We haven’t gotten one call from Jimmy, did your mom tell you? She’s called him a few times, sure enough, but that kid just does not want to pick up the phone. He’s worse than you. Have you heard from him?”
“He’s away from home for the first time and he has a new girlfriend. He’s busy.” I also knew that if he had a hard enough time picking up the phone to call his mother, he wouldn’t spend much time thinking about his grandparents. Eighteen-year-old boys didn’t seem to think about family until they needed it, or at least mine didn’t. I missed him something awful, but I also didn’t want to cramp his style. Not yet. Not until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d also need to figure out how to explain my new life. Given how it was going with the parents, I’d need to think a little harder about explanations when he finally came here. “He’s hoping to come out for Mother’s Day.”
My dad grunted and reached for the remote. Our talk was apparently done.
In the kitchen, Ulric and Cedric sat at the island in front of a plate loaded with cheese, salami, and crackers. Each had a drink—Ulric with a beer and Cedric with orange juice. My mother stood at the sink, her hands submerged in the suds foaming up out of the basin. An empty dish rack sat in front of Jasper, who was wiping a plate with a towel before moving to put it away.
The oven door lay open with Mr. Tom peering into it. “Honestly, Martha, you don’t need to do that. You can just sit down. I’ll take care of them in a minute.”
“Don’t be silly. I just wish you’d let me help more. You have your hands full catering to all these people!”
“I assure you, it is nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hey.” I stopped by the island, Austin beside me. Ulric lifted his drink in salute.
“Oh hey, honey.” My mom turned with a smile, pulling a yellow rubber glove from the glistening foam. “I hear the woods expedition went well. Your father says there are a lot of flowers out back. I think I’ll check those out tomorrow. Maybe get some pointers from Edgar.”
My mother was the worst gardener in history, or maybe second only to me. Edgar would likely make it sound easy, especially given he had a magical elixir that actually did make it easy, and if he encouraged her, she’d probably end up mass-murdering a bunch of innocent flowers. It would be a travesty.
“Did Dad mention anything else, other than the flowers?”
She thought for a moment. “No. He said the weather’s nice, but I knew that.”
I chewed on my lip. “Nothing about…seeing anything weird?”
She tilted her head. “Like what?”
“Like…animals…in the woods?”
“No. Why?”
“We have a problem with something eating the flowers,” Ulric said, peeling the label on his beer.
“Oh yes.” She scoffed loudly. “They are constantly after my roses! I had to put wire fencing around them.”
I let it go. Clearly my dad hadn’t said anything, and there were other extreme matters to attend to. “Why’d you bring down a doll, Mom?”
“The dolls! You didn’t tell me you had so many dolls! I didn’t remember you having that many dolls when you were married to”—she put a gloved hand to the side of her mouth—“you know who.”