“I can’t leave the porch unfinished.”
“Listen, honey, everyone deserves a lunch break.Besides, that porch looks better than it has since the builders handed the keys to Finn two years ago.I’m making pulled pork sandwiches.You don’t want to miss that.”
I can’t help but chuckle.Now I know where Jasmine got that expression.
I drop the sponge back in the bucket, slip on my shoes, and follow Phyllis to her house.On the way, she tells me that she moved in with Jamie when her sister-in-law Stella died after a short battle with cancer.The boys were aged fifteen all the way down to eight.
“And I didn’t change a thing in here,” she says, opening the door and letting me in before her.“It’s a time capsule.An ode to Stella Roberts MacLaine, God rest her soul.That woman was a saint.”
The house is well-worn and well-loved.It’s probably at least a hundred years old and built like a grand old ranch house, made of beautiful wood, massive rafters, and rough-hewn furniture.Unlike Finn’s house, which seems like it was decorated professionally before he moved in, his father’s home evolved over years, decades, and even generations.
I follow Phyllis to the kitchen.Finn’s father, Jamie, is eating a sandwich at the kitchen table while reading a thin local newspaper called the Sweetbriar Daily Dust Devil.He looks up and smiles at me.
“To what do I owe this honor?”he asks.“To have such beauty in my house is a real pleasure.”
“This is Emma, and she’s visiting with me, not you, Jamie,” Phyllis says.“We’ve got women’s stuff to talk about.Finish up and go outside to smoke your pipe.”
“I’ll have you know, Phyllis, that I quit smoking a pipe over thirty years ago.You know that Stella made me quit when she got pregnant with Cal.”
Phyllis levels her gaze at me, including me in the exasperation she feels for her brother-in-law.“You quit smokinginthe house, Jamie.You’ve been smoking your pipeoutsideevery day since Cal was a bean in his mother’s belly.”
“I beg your pardon.”Jamie places his hand on his heart and bats his eyelashes.“Madam, you wound me.”
CHAPTER 27
Emma
Phyllis opens a kitchen drawer and pulls out a pipe and a tobacco pouch.“You hide this nonsense inmykitchen.You don’t even bother hiding it where I won’t find it.”
Jamie winks at me.“There’s no place to hide it where she won’t find it.Phyllis has got her finger in everything in this house.”
Phyllis hands him the pipe and tobacco.“That’s because I clean everything in this house.Now, unless you want my finger in your eye, go on and git.We girls want to gab.”
He stands, leaving his plate and newspaper on the table.“I’ll alert the eleven o’clock news that some girls want to gab.No one’s gonna believe it!”
He laughs, and Phyllis joins him.They have a brother-sister relationship that I’ve only seen in television shows.They tease each other, but it’s obvious they’re close and care for one another.
I never saw that among the relatives of my foster parents.Not once.There was always a lot of competition for scarce resources among the adults, a lot of stored-up anger, and a whole lot of trauma.
And fear.There was always so much fear.And all the kids picked it up, like a bad cold.
Finn’s father bends to give me a polite bow.“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Emma.Welcome to Yosemite Ranch.”And with that, he gives one violet eye a wink.
There’s a whole lot of charm left in the older man.
“Thank you, Mr.MacLaine.”
“You call me Jamie, all right?”
Once Jamie leaves, I try to help Phyllis clear off the table, but she won’t let me.She insists that I take a load off, gesturing to one of the old oak chairs at the table.
She hands me a tall glass of iced tea to sip while she makes lunch, and after only a minute, I understand that she’s asked me over here to grill me.She wants information, everything about me.She asks where I’m from, where I was born, where I went to school, and anything and everything else.
Whatever research she did on me before I was hired isn’t enough for her, apparently.She wants the juice.She’s looking for the nitty-gritty.
And every once in a while, she glances over her shoulder and gives me that look, the one she gave me when she was showing me around Finn’s house.It’s an intense examination of me, my face, my eyes, and my hair.It’s part puzzlement and part sadness.I have no idea why she looks at me like that.
I don’t take offense, though, since she’s responsible for me being here and all the good things that come with it.Besides, the questions are fairly easy to answer.I’m from Nevada.I’m an orphan, and I’m only allowed to see an abridged version of my birth certificate, which means I have no other information.
