Page 26

When I woke up, it was still dark outside. Patrick and Molly were in the kitchen, the low, deep murmur of his voice, punctuated by her high-pitched giggle pulling me down the hall. Hearing it makes me nervous. I’ve been doing my best to keep her out of the way. Patrick and Cari have just gotten engaged. I’m painfully aware that having her little sister and her four-year-old niece underfoot is the last thing he wants.
Stepping into the kitchen, I prepare to whisk her away while peppering him with profuse apologies and promises to keep Moll out of his way from now on. What I see stops me short and renders me pretty much speechless.
“Watch for the bubbles, okay?” Patrick says to Molly. “When you see the bubbles, they’re ready to flip.” He hovering over her while she stands on a stepstool in front of the stove, her long blonde hair pulled up in a tragic excuse for a ponytail, an apron folded over her nightgown. She’s got a spatula in her hand and she’s staring at the griddle like her life depends on it.
He’s teaching her how to make pancakes.
She jerks her head up to look at him standing above her. “Flip?”
He gives her an encouraging nod. “Yup,” he says, helping her slide and maneuver the spatula under the pancake. “One. Two. Three. Flip.” They lift and turn together, Molly letting out a frustrated sigh when the pancake lands lopsided, half of it sliding off the griddle.
“Sorry.” She aims another gaze at him, this one glum and defeated.
“For what?” Patrick reaches up and gives her disastrous ponytail a playful tug. “You’re doing great.”
“Yeah but—”
“Molly.” I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep standing here, watching him be nice to her. I have to say something.
“Hi, Mom.” She looks away from Patrick and aims one of her sunny smiles in my direction. “I’m makin’ pancakes.”
“I see that,” I say, careful to keep my tone light. “What did I tell you about bothering Uncle Patrick?”
Her smile winks out and I want to kick myself for being such a mom. “Not to.” She looks up at Patrick again, suddenly unsure of what they’re doing and whether or not she’s breaking the rules. She looks back at me, her frown in full force. “But he said—”
“You’re not bothering me, Molly.” Even though he’s talking her, he says it right at me before aiming his good-natured grin in her direction. “Why don’t you go get dressed while I finish the pancakes.”
I expect her to throw a tantrum. Molly doesn’t take well to being told what to do, especially when she has other ideas about what she’d rather be doing. Bracing for a blow-up, I can only watch in awe as she passes Patrick the spatula and hops off her stool to shoot past me and down the hall in a mad rush to do as he says.
“Are you a wizard?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Not that I know of,” he tells me, lifting the lopsided pancake off the griddle to add it to the stack. “I’m a novelty,” he says, reaching up to pull a plate from the rack above the coffee pot. “I suspect it’ll wear off after a few weeks. She’ll be back to being stubborn in no time at all.”
“You seem to know a lot about kids for someone who doesn’t have any.” I eye him suspiciously, suddenly convinced he has a secret family stashed away somewhere.
He cocks his head and shrugs. “I do run the largest non-profit for kids in Boston.” If he hears the suspicion in my tone, he doesn’t show it. “Two or three?” His hand hovers over the stack of pancakes.
“Four.” I’m starving.
Laughing again, he stabs the requested number of cakes with a fork to transfer them onto the empty plate. “No bacon,” he tells me, slide the plate across the counter to park it in front of one of the stools. “We haven’t graduated to fried meats yet.”
“I’ll live.” Sliding onto the stool I watch while he retrieves the butter and syrup, pushing them in my direction. As soon as I’m settled, he reached up to pull a coffee mug from the rack next to the plates.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he says, his tone conversational while he lifts the coffee pot and fills the mug.
“What?” I drop the fork in my hand, the clatter of it sharp and loud against my ears. “No.” I shake my head at his back, scrambling for cover. “I like you fine. You’ve been great and I’m so thankful for your letting me and Molly move in. I just—”
“Look.” He turns toward me to set the mug in front of me. “It’s just you and me here—so let’s be honest with each other.”
Honest.
Right.
Here it comes.
Jerkus Erectus.
He’s Mr. Perfect for my sister and Mr. Rogers for Molly. For me, he’s going to let his true colors show. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. I’ve been waiting for this for days now and so has he. An opportunity, out of earshot of my sister and my parents, for him to tell me that Molly and I are a burden he isn’t willing to bear for long. That no matter what face he shows Cari or Molly, he doesn’t want us here. We aren’t welcome.