“Oh, our Fenella has never appreciated spirits,” her father said with a light chuckle. “She couldn't tell the difference between a fine whiskey and bathtub gin.”
Carter glanced at Fen. She was grimly sipping the Chardonnay as if a white wine fanatic was holding a gun to her head.
"You're joking, right?" Carter addressed her father. "Fen can take one sip of a mystery whiskey and identify it. I've seen her do it."
"It's true. I can. And I’ll have a whiskey too." Fen spoke abruptly and loudly. She set down the Chardonnay glass so hard that wine slopped over the rim and splashed on the table.
"Oh, Fenella." Her mother shook her head. "You're always so careless."
Her father looked at Carter in a man to man way and chuckled, inviting him in on the joke. "She's always been like this. Even when she was a little girl. You couldn't give her anything, because she’d break it."
"Or spill it," said her mother.
"Or lose it," said her father.
"Or forget about it," said her mother.
Her parents laughed as if this was a cute family joke. Fen stared down at the table like she was trying to set it on fire with her mind. She obviously didn't find the joke funny or cute in the slightest. How could her parents not notice that they were upsetting her?
Or did they notice but not care?
“Can we change the subject?” Fen snapped. “How about discussing anything but how incompetent I am?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Fenella,” said her mother. “Don’t be so sensitive.”
“It’s a joke, Fenella,” said her father. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Carter was incredibly thankful for his contact lenses, because he was sure that beneath them, his eyes were flaming red. "It’s not funny. Fen isn’t a little girl. She’s a Fortune 500 business woman. She's capable, competent, and brilliant."
Lightly, her mother said, "Oh, yes, Fenella can do great things when she sets her mind to it. But she only works at things she cares about, like her little business. If it's something she doesn't care about, like someone else's heirloom wineglass, she pays it no mind."
Carter could hardly believe his ears. Herlittlebusiness? He again looked to Fen, to see if he was somehow misinterpreting everything and her mother was only making a pun on the name of Little Bit. But Fen was still staring straight down, her face set, her cheeks bright red. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he thought she was trying not to cry.
He had a sudden vision of what it had been like for her growing up in this tasteful, expensive house with its tasteful, expensive owners. She’d told him about it, but he hadn’t realized quite how awful it must have been. In his mind’s eye, he could see her as a little girl retreating into angry silence, believing what they told her about herself.
He wasn't going to let that happen again. Not while he was there.
Bite them, bite them,growled a monster.
Fly them to a height and drop them,screeched a monster.
Roast them to a crisp,hissed a monster.
Toss them across the room,gibbered a monster.
[furious crimson]
[bloodthirsty scarlet]
[protective amber]
All excellent ideas,Carter informed his monsters. But he didn’t think Fen would appreciate him murdering her parents. Probably.
"Are you aware that Fen has ADHD?" he demanded.
“That’s a very fashionable diagnosis,” said her father. “Everyone seems to have it nowadays. It’s such a handy excuse for being forgetful and lazy. When I was a boy, people knew the value of hard work.”
“Do you have a diagnosis, Fenella?” her mother asked.
