She perks up, but then quickly recovers, remembering she’s too cool for pancakes.
“You probably already know about Independence Day,” I say.
“I think so, but why don’t you tell me, anyway.”
“It’s like Canada Day but for the United States.”
“Oh, lovely!” she says.
“I’m kind of missing home today and was hoping you’d help me celebrate.”
“Okay,” she answers, suddenly seeming very much like the Olive that left here on Friday. “What kind of pancakes?”
“Buttermilk with blueberries and cream.” I hold out my hand and she takes it, then I help pull her up.
“I suppose I can fast another day.”
As we make our way to the kitchen, I say, “Yeah, or not, because you’re basically perfect the way you are.”
* * *
By late morning, Olive is Olive again. Gone is the tiny teenager, and in her place is the little artist I’ve come to know and like. She’s dressed now in some bright blue shorts and a unicorn T-shirt, and is currently sitting on a blanket under the oak tree, drawing in her sketchbook. I am outside, trimming a hedge (and by trimming, I mean doing a total hatchet job because I have no idea what I’m doing). I pause to adjust the Velcro closure of my glove and see Walt, who is sitting alone, meowing at her and looking forlorn.
Olive looks up at him and her face crumples. “Poor boy. Maybe I should go sit with him.”
“Your dad said he wanted you to stay in the shade for a while. Besides, maybe Walt will finally get sick of sitting there alone and he’ll come to you.”
“I hope so because he’s breaking my freaking heart.”
Oh, I see there are still remnants of her cousin left. “What are you drawing?"
She smiles, then quickly stands and hurries over to me with her sketchbook. "These are the mermaids that live in the lake. See?"
I tug my gardening gloves off my hands and take the pad from her. "Oh, wow. This is excellent. Incredibly detailed."
"Thanks. This one is Arietta. She's a princess, and these are her sisters. There are seven of them. This little one is my baby brother, Malcolm, and that's my mom holding him.”
I look at the largest mermaid on the page. She has the floppy ponytail that Olive told me about. "She reminds me of you, very beautiful."
She smiles, looking slightly embarrassed. “Thanks, Abby.”
“And this is Isaac,” she says pointing to a merman with glasses and short, gray hair. “I hope you don’t mind, I copied that from the photo in your office.”
I swallow my emotions. “I don’t mind a bit. It looks just like him.”
She points to three people standing on the shore on the far right of the picture. “That’s you, me, and my dad. We’re saying hello to the merfolk.”
I stare at her version of me. One of my arms is much longer than the other one, but otherwise, she’s managed to capture me. She’s in between Liam and me, and we’re each holding one of her hands. I look closer at Liam. He has blue eyes but his head is perfectly round and white. “Did you forget to add your dad’s hair?”
Shaking her head, she says, “That was when he was bald. I drew him that way because I like the feel of his smooth head.”
“Bald? Really? You mean he shaved his head?”
She shrugs. “I guess so.”
“But why? He has such nice thick hair.”
Olive looks up at me, blinking quickly in a surprisingly astute way. “Do you like my dad, like a boyfriend?”
