“Look,” Tara said, elbowing me. “There’s old Georgie.”
I looked up to see that Annie had come back in with her dad, George Whitaker. He must have been driven over to the pool. She was helping him over toward the bleachers. It was slippery on the pool deck, and I saw his foot slide out from under him a little, pulling him down on Annie (who was all of 5’2”). I felt bad about my earlier interaction with her. She was totally clueless, but in a good-hearted way. Anyway, I couldn’t watch an old man slip and break his hip.
“Hi,” I called as I approached. “Can I give you a hand?”
They stopped. Annie looked up and smiled gratefully. George Whitaker just looked.
“I’m Emily,” I said, uncomfortable under his gaze. “We met outside the pool the other day.”
“Yes, I remember.” His voice was deep, and sounded vaguely like Luke’s. Thirty or forty years ago, George Whitaker had probably been as handsome as his son. Now he just looked mean.
It was like we were in a staring contest. No one made a move.
“Um, well, ok, if you don’t need any help, I’ll head back to the bleachers,” I told them.
Annie opened her mouth to speak but Mr. Whitaker shook his head. “No, we don’t need your help.”
It was so awkward. I nodded stupidly, then turned and found my seat back on the bleachers.
“What’s up with him?” I whispered to Tara.
“The Whitakers are all assholes.” She looked at me sideways. “Most of them.”
∞
I got home from the NGS on Wednesday afternoon in a pouring rainstorm. Tara had taken Darby and Charlie to the movies. “I need a nap,” she had told me. “This movie should do it.” I got Cassie some tea, and twisted the wire hanger antenna on the TV until I had a channel kind of coming in. Unfortunately, it was a curling match, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I had her settled on the couch with a blanket tucked around her when the doorbell rang.
“Emily!” she said, sitting up straight. “Don’t let anyone see me like this!”
“I’ll take him through the kitchen,” I soothed her.
I opened the back door and beckoned Jason through the rain. He ran up on the porch, shaking like a dog. “Thanks for coming!” I told him. “Come on downstairs and check out the beast.”
We came down the basement steps and I flipped on the light.
“This is just like my grandma’s house,” he said, staring around in the half-darkness.
“It’s exactly like my grandma’s house,” I joked.
“Isn’t this her house?” He stared at me.
Never mind. I pointed him to the back corner. “Here’s the water heater.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one so old,” Jason whistled, and studied the dusty appliance.
My heart sank. “Do you think you can fix it?”
“Won’t know until I take a look.” He plunked down his tool bag and pulled out a flashlight.
“Emmy!” I heard from upstairs.
“That’s my sister,” I explained. “Holler if you need me.”
Cassie needed help to the bathroom, then decided that we should paint our toenails, which meant that I would paint our toenails.
“You’re so sloppy!” she chastised.
“Stop wiggling your dumb foot!” I retorted.
