Jillian’s face turned scarlet.
“Not those kind of jeans, dumbo,” Zoey said.
“Don’t call your sister names,” I said. “When you were her age, you didn’t know one type of jean from the other, either.”
“Zoey, can you explain the difference?” Jillian asked.
“Well, one kind is what you wear, and the other is something inside you, like blood.”
Sophie screwed up her face. “How does it get inside you?”
“Every living thing has a set of instructions for what it’s going to look like, and these instructions are called genes,” Jillian explained. “But they’re spelled differently from the pant kind.”
The answer seemed to satisfy Sophie, and the conversation returned to the animals. The girls ran upstairs to get their stuffed animals and reenact the Global Wildlife experience.
I felt strangely awkward alone with Jillian. “Sounds like you had a great time. I hope they weren’t too much of a handful.”
“Not at all. You know I love spending time with the girls.” She paused. “It’s a shame you couldn’t go with us.”
“Yeah, well... I had to catch up on some work from taking yesterday off.”
“I heard you helped Miss Adelaide find some information she needed.”
“Yes.”
She cocked her head and looked at me, apparently expecting me to give her more information. When I didn’t, she gave a forced-looking smile. “Well, it was nice of you to help out.”
“And it was good of you to take the girls to Global Wildlife.” This conversation was weirdly formal. I’d felt increasingly uncomfortable around her lately.
“The girls asked if I’d make dinner for them tonight,” Jillian said. “They wanted carrot salad and broccoli—probably the result of watching the animals eat. It’s rare when they’re willing to eat such healthy food, so I told them I’d fix it.”
Ah, hell. I’d planned to just order a pizza and chill with the girls—Hope was going to work on the mural at the coffee shop tonight—but now it seemed I was stuck with Jillian.
I looked at her, and she skittishly cut her eyes away in a way that made me think of a domestic abuse victim. It made me feel horrible.
“Great,” I forced myself to say.
A smile bloomed on her face. For just a second she resembled Christine, and then the similarity was gone. “Well, then, I guess I’ll get started. We picked up groceries on the way home.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I should offer to help. I’m sure that’s what she wanted, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I, uh, want to spend some time with the girls, so I’m going upstairs.”
“Sure.” She smiled brightly. I noticed she was wearing freshly applied lipstick. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
The girls invited Jillian to stay for dinner, and I saw no way out of it without being flat-out rude. I focused on the girls and talked almost exclusively to them throughout the meal. Jillian sat at the end of the table, where Christine used to sit. I don’t know if it wasbecause of Hope or what, but I felt even more awkward than usual and couldn’t wait for her to leave.
After dinner, I pushed back my chair. “I’ll handle cleanup,” I told Jillian. “You’ve pulled more than enough aunt duty today.”
Just then Zoey sidled up, holding her stomach. “I want go to bed,” she said in a thin voice. “Can you tuck me in, Aunt Jillian?”
Jillian felt her forehead. “Oh, dear—I hope you’re not coming down with something. There’s a terrible stomach bug going around.”
“Can you stay the night?” Zoey asked.
My stomach suddenly wasn’t feeling so hot, either, but it wasn’t because of a bug.
“I’d be happy to, but...” Jillian darted a glance at me. “It’s up to your father.”
“Pleeease, Daddy,” Zoey pleaded. Her eyes filled with tears. “I miss my mommy, and I’d feel better if Aunt Jillian were here.”
