“I should have said it different. Will you drive the speed limit so that you don’t cause road rage or get hit from behind?”
He was serious, but I just shook my head. There was no need to rush. I had guessed that my phone would tell another outrageous fib about how long it would take to get to their location, so I had padded out my schedule with an extra hour of driving time.
“There’s rain in the forecast and the temperature’s going to drop, so the road could get slick.” He really did seem worried. “I wish I could come with you.”
“It won’t get near freezing until after I’m back,” I assured him, because I had checked as well. “I’ll be fine.” But he stood at the door watching, and also frowning.
The trip south was ok, a lot longer than my phone had claimed (as I’d anticipated) but there wasn’t too much traffic and no one tailgated. My parents were already at the meeting place when I arrived because, according to my mom, their neighbor had gone much too fast. “I feel better with you behind the wheel, Cammie,” she told me. I drove even more carefully than before so it did take us slightly longer to get home, but that was ok. We did it very safely.
Silas texted several times as we made our way back north but, of course, I couldn’t look while I was driving. When I approached the house, I realized why he’d been trying to contact me: there was a large, maroon SUV taking up the entire driveway because one of our guests had already arrived. Three hours early.
“I knew you’d need my help,” Octavia announced as we all walked in. I decided not to answer as Lyra ran to hug my parents and Silas also came out of the kitchen, glaring. It wasn’t directed at his sister or anyone in my family. “I’m the second-in-command in the Whitaker Enterprises legal office,” she introduced herself to my parents.
“No, that’s not correct. Mom, Daddy, this is Octavia,” I said, and both my parents nodded. They had heard about her.
For this visit, they would be sleeping in my bedroom, and part of the deal was that Silas would have to help my dad upstairs. He did that now, and Lyra carried a bag and held my mom’s hand. I watched them, smiling, before I sniffed the air and my expression changed.
“I hope that I’m not getting a whiff of herring,” I announced. I was.
But the other good smells of Thanksgiving were enough to mask most of that, and the strength of Octavia’s personality was also somewhat diluted by the presence of other guests. Mrs. Alford arrived from across the street and she and my coworker seemed to have a lot to talk about—they were both very interested in crime and undesirable elements secretly running our city, and although no one mentioned names, I held my breath in case they started ripping down Silas. That was not allowed in this house. My mom and dad, wrapped up well against the falling temperatures, went to watch Boris and Lyra play baseball in the damp, grey backyard, and Silas and I were busy in the kitchen finalizing the meal.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “Octavia is usually a little early to meetings but I had no idea it would extend this far. Was she bothering you?”
He looked over at me and I understood that the answer was yes.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, he cast his eyes upwards toward the ceiling far above us. I was glad that for a house of this age, someone had decided to build those so high. Maybe the first owner had been as big as Silas.
“She waltzed in here with that dish of smelly cheese and fish and she told me that she was your boss, so she was going to override you about what time the dinner would start and what we would eat. It’s ok,” he told me. “Maybe it’s karma. I was such a beast of a kid and now it could be coming back to me a little, in the form of Octavia. No, scratch that. I was a beast as a kid, as a teenager, and also for most of my twenties.”
“Until Lyra came along.”
“Until the day that I found out that I had a sister and that they were going to hand her over to the state,” he agreed. “Then I cleaned up my act.” He glanced through the window into the back. “Your mom must have wrapped a scarf around Ly’s head and now Boris is getting one, too. I’m going to call them in. It’s too cold for your parents.” When he returned, he helped me find a bowl big enough to mix the salad for which I’d been endlessly chopping vegetables. “Octavia is now explaining southern cooking to your mom,” he told me. “That should go great.”
“My mother has a lot of patience and my dad can turn off his hearing aids, the lucky guy. Taste the dressing. I mean, the stuffing.” He took my hand as I held up the little spoon and guided it to his mouth.
“That’s good,” he approved. “Maybe it needs something sweet? Or sour?”
I reached for the salt and pepper instead.
“When did your dad start to lose his hearing?” Silas asked me.
“It was before I came along,” I said. “I’m not really sure.”
“It started before you were born?”
“Maybe. I know that he noticed a deficit when I came to live with them, because my voice was high and he realized that he couldn’t hear me very well,” I explained. “Try it now.” I held up another spoon but he didn’t take the bite.
“What are you talking about? You didn’t always live with them? They’re not your parents?”
“They are my parents, but they adopted me. Try this.” He did take the sample but didn’t seem to notice the taste.
“You never said that you were adopted. I had no idea.”
“It’s not very important to me. Didn’t you notice how much older my parents are, though?” I asked.
“Yeah, but…” He looked toward the living room. “What are they yelling about?”
“Silas!” Lyra ran through the kitchen door. “You have to come quick. I think the other lady and Mrs. Alford are going to fight!”
