She what?
“We finally got that sorted, she’s fine,” Mom continued. “I’m actually calling about the gum stuck in her hair. The cousins chewed it to look like barrettes. They did a good job, too, and Fiona was happy to be their model. I wanted to be sure she doesn’t have a problem with mayonnaise before I put it on her scalp. Annie said it’s fine, but she’s ten. The jar doesn’t say it has gluten. The google had several opinions. Dad suggested I call to be sure there’s nothing in it she can’t have in her hair. That’s all. We’ll get it settled, and you can go back to your da—whatever you’re doing on your night off from responsibility with your…whatever he is.”
“Mayonnaise is fine,” Emmaline said, frowning. “Why don’t I head over?”
She’d have to forgo her tiramisu to ensure her daughter still had a full head of hair come the morning. But that was parenting, in a nutshell.
Ethan was already standing as Emmaline snatched her purse.
She adjusted the cell against her cheek. “Do not let her eat a button battery or laundry soap or magnets…”
“Oh no, no, no,” Mom said. “Bask in the bliss of your utter freedom from any obligations. Just…needed to know about the mayonnaise. You think Miracle Whip works better?” There was some rustling in the background. “Oh, or I found that makeup remover with the mineral oil that makes me break out. I can use that. I bet that will work.”
Phone still held to her ear, Emmaline looked at Ethan. “Fiona’s got gum stuck in her hair.”
“Oh, the google came through!” Mom declared. “Miracle Whip is just fine. We’ll try that before the makeup remover. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ve got it all under control. She’s having a Popsicle while we sort the details.”
“Don’t let her eat the Popsicle stick,” Emmaline said, pressing her fingertips against her temple.
“Why would she eat a Popsicle stick?” Mompf-shawed.“I swear you make no sense sometimes.” A muffled sound came across the line. “Jim, you don’t need cheese; we’re not fixing sandwiches.”
Mom hung up, and Emmaline stared at her phone. Then she glanced to Ethan, who waited patiently. She licked her lips.
“Should we head over?” he asked.
“I think we should go and just do a well-check. Make sure the Miracle Whip works, you know?” Because even though she trusted her parents, she really should put eyes on her kid. Just for everyone’s sakes.
“I have no idea what that means,” he replied.
“I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Ethan scooted them out of the restaurant, lickity split. He didn’t ask questions after she relayed the issue and her parents’ address. The GPS did the heavy lifting while she ranted about why her family couldn’t at least pretend to be normal for an evening.
She’d made it nearly through all of her bullet points when he parked the sedan right out front of the house.
No police or ambulances. That was reassuring. They already had the firefighter with her dad in the house, and the nurse with her mom.
She didn’t hurry to the door, but she didn’t lollygag, either. Ethan stayed right at her side.
This was her childhood home, so there was no need to ring the bell or anything. She pushed right on in. “Fiona?”
“Well, that was sure quick,” Mom said, emerging from the kitchen with a half-full jar of Miracle Whip, white goop all over her hand, and a bag of frozen peas. “Hi, Ethan. Good to see you again. Annie’s just the sweetest. She fits right in with the kids.” Mom beamed at him and, yes, she totally checked him out. Head to toe. Then she grinned as though she approved of every morsel of him.
“Fiona’s doing much better,” Mom went on. “I shouldn’t have worried you. It’s just a sprain. She just really took us for a loop when she went ass over teakettle like that at the piano. I swear that girl got all your genes and none of Tony’s. I forgot what it’s like to have a mini version of you in the house. One second she’s twinkle, twinkling with her tootsies and the next she’s splayed on the tiles.” Mom was moving to the backyard. Emmaline followed, Ethan staying right at her back.
“I thought it was the gum?” Emmaline asked.
“Oh, we’re soaking that with this.” She held up the jar as she walked. “I think we’re close.”
“But she’s got a sprain, too?” Emmaline confirmed. No one said anything about a sprain on the call.
“You know, I told your dad he needed to put carpet in that room. The tile’s just not good for kids. But he’s”—Mom whispered the next part—“getting to it.” She continued right on to the patio. “I swear I don’t know how many grandkids we have to break before he”—She whispered again— “gets to it.” She turned to Ethan. “Can I get you anything? I’m sorry I interrupted your special time together.”
Ethan stared at her wide-eyed. As one would do when entering the energy field of her parents’ home for the first time.
“I’ll go ahead and grab you a Fresca. Emmaline? Do you want one, too?” Mom asked.
But Emmaline had her eyes on her girl, and that was all that mattered. She strode right there with purpose.
