“You must be Marty’s kids,” Charles continued, adjusting the thick-rimmed glasses on his nose. “Of course you must. Who elsewould you be? You’ve really got the whole place buzzing. I guess we all figured we’d never get the chance to meet you.”
“So did we,” Nora said, trying to keep the pain from her voice.
“Oh, Charles. You’re back.” Patty reappeared in the hallway. “I thought you were gone another day or two.” She turned to the twins. “Charles is usually the one in charge of the town’s supply runs. We get most of our produce, meat, and dairy from Uncle Vic’s farm down the road, but this time of year there’s not much growing, and we like the odd treat once in a while.”
“So I get the monthly road trip assignment,” said Charles.
“Usually it’s just to one of the bigger towns nearby,” said Patty. “But there’ve been some supply chain issues, and they don’t send much out this far into the middle of nowhere anyway, so sometimes he needs to make the trek to a city. Then he’ll usually stay the night, sometimes two if there’s anything interesting going on in town. I figured he might miss you kids altogether.”
“Thank goodness I came back early,” said Charles.
He and his sister exchanged smiles. Then Patty put a hand on each of the twins’ shoulders and started ushering them in the direction of the voices.
“Well, you’ve met two of us birdbrains. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest and we’ll get some food in those bellies of yours. You both must be starving.”
They followed Patty through the living room and into a dining room bustling with more people than Nora knew what to do with. And most of them had her eyes. Or dimple. Or Charlie’s crooked smile.
As soon as they entered, the room stilled. Every eye in the house fell on them, forks lowering, heads shaking in disbelief. Awoman at the far end of the table dropped the serving spoon into the dish she was holding and shoved it into the lap of the person she was serving as soon as she spotted the twins. She rushed over, wiping her palms on an apple-patterned apron, and immediately pulled Nora into her arms. She smelled like homemade pastries and fresh mint. And then she stopped smelling of anything at all, because she was squeezing so tight Nora couldn’t manage another breath. On average, a human can survive up to six minutes without oxygen, only four before brain damage sets in. Nora counted down from ten and gave the woman’s back a quick pat, signaling the end of the hug. She decided that would be a sufficient length for both displaying affection and retaining vital cognitive function.
When Nora pulled away, she finally got her first good look at the woman. She only came up to Nora’s nose and, at only five foot four herself, Nora saw that as something of a biological feat. The woman was older than she’d appeared from far away, her skin falling like melted wax down her neck, but her dark eyes were sharp and her physical health was evident from the remaining gentle throb where she’d just been pried off of Nora’s ribs.
“Apologies, I’m not usually so forward. Only, you really do look just like him.” The woman’s voice was less emotive than her words, but a shallow pool of tears formed a rim under her eyes. Then she turned to Charlie. “You, not so much.”
Patty slung an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Kids, meet your grandmother Ruby.”
“Holy shit,” said Charlie.
“You sure sound like him, though.” A tear escaped Ruby’s watery eyes and skidded down her cheek. She quickly swatted it away and regained her composure. “Please, come in, let’s get yousomething to eat. Everyone?” She turned back to the overflowing table. “Meet my grandchildren.”
* * *
Nora had tried and failed twice to get some salt. She was seated between Charles and Charlie—a Chuck sandwich, as Charlie had unfortunately decided to call it—and they were both too engrossed in other conversations to pass her one of the little shakers that sat at either end of the table. Charlie’s side had a set of kissing pigs, Charles’s a pair of cardinals with chipped ceramic wings. Nora didn’t have a preference between them but felt a little bad for the damaged cardinals and had hoped out of pity to give them something to do.
Ruby sat at the far head of the table, a tiny matriarch on her wooden throne, while her husband, a tall man with broad shoulders and thick gray hair, helmed the other end. This, Nora learned after her asphyxiating first encounter with Ruby, was Richard. The twins’ grandfather, if you wanted to get technical about it, which Nora always did. He was what she imagined her father would have looked like if he’d been allowed to grow old: strong featured, clear-eyed, and still physically imposing despite a personality that was anything but. Nora immediately decided she liked him. Of all the unexpected family she met that day, he was the most familiar, the most like home.
Then there were the others. So many others. Ruby had two brothers, Vic and Vince, who were her equals in small stature, while Richard had a sister, Dorothy, who also happened to be Vic’s wife. They had five kids, whose names Nora could barely remember. One of them—Hannah? Anna? Alana? Or maybe itwas Christine—was married to a man they all called Pickles for reasons Nora had yet to suss out, and their son was the closest to the twins in age, his face offering an estimate of late thirties. None of the others had partners or children, but the high median age at the table didn’t stop the lunch from being a rambunctious one. Everyone talked over everyone else, but in a way that showed enthusiasm rather than disinterest. Dishes floated around the table, passed from hand to hand, like this was a dance they’d rehearsed for years. Nora had never been a part of anything like it. But shewasa part of it, albeit quietly and without salt, and that warmed her along with Ruby’s gourmet mac and cheese.
“And what do you do?” The question came from one of Dorothy and Vic’s children, and it was aimed directly at her.
“I’m an administrative coordinator,” Nora said without hesitation. A job title like hers was bland enough that it rarely led to follow-up questions, and on two separate occasions led to a hearty yawn.
“Ah,” came the reply. “Well, we’re farm folk, us lot. Except for Pickles. He manages the shop. Not much for manual labor, Pickles.”
“You’re all farmers?”
“Oh, just my family,” said Vic. “Though we recruit the others for extra hands from time to time.”
Nora couldn’t fathom a life that revolved around unpredictable livestock, rusty tools, and heavy machinery. One of Nora’s early cases involving one of those riding lawn mowers farmers use to traverse their acres of land had quickly dispelled any romantic notions she’d had about a quiet pastoral life.
“Most of us are retired,” Patty chimed in. “No one reallyneeds much money out here; the only things we pay for are what we buy from town. The rest we provide for ourselves. Plus there isn’t much that needs doing in a place so self-contained.”
“Sounds like a dream,” said Charlie.
“It can get a little monotonous at times. I think that’s one of the reasons your dad wanted to move away. To find some new opportunities.”
“Well, we don’t have to talk about that now.” Ruby patted at her lips with her napkin. “Besides, what opportunity could be better than being with family? I’m just so overjoyed you’re both here.”
“We’re happy to be here too,” Nora said, and meant it. For once she felt a sense of calm, of ease. S.C.Y.T.H.E. and even Charlie’s potential death shifted to the back of her mind for the first time since she came across his file at the office the previous morning. In that moment it was like those worries were somewhere far away from this house, somewhere beyond the border of Virgo Bay.
