“Bring it on.”
Chapter 18
Charlie watched his father roll his shoulders and smooth his hair before reaching for the knob.
A young woman stepped across the threshold, pale-eyed and light-haired.I prefer dark hair,Charlie thought, apropos of nothing.
“Welcome!” His dad’s voice was many decibels too loud for indoors. “Charlie has been counting down the minutes!”
He frowned at his father before remembering to smile. The new arrival blinked back at him with no discernible emotion.
Charlie’s dad cleared his throat. It was almost certainly a cue, but that kind of pressure had never helped Charlie find his words.
“Why don’t you step into the living room?” Charlie’s father urged their guest. “I need to have a quick word with my son.”
She gave the pair of them another cool look before drifting out of sight.
“I don’t know what that was, but I need you to make an effort with Emma,” his father said when the two of them were alone. “Are you listening, son?”
“Yes,” Charlie fibbed. “You said Emma—oh no!” His brain abruptly woke up. “She got out again?” The poor thing must be terrified with all these strangers in the house. He needed to check her usual hiding places. Charlie started to pull away, but his father tugged him back.
“NotthatEmma.” His smile was tight. “Emma Koenig. Daughter of Philip Koenig,” he added, when Charlie didn’t respond. “CEO of Koenig Industries.”
“That’s nice,” Charlie ventured, not sure what else to say. He should have known his dad wasn’t talking about Emma the corn snake. Mr. Pike barely tolerated it when Charlie brought up reptiles of any kind, so he was hardly likely to introduce the subject. “I guess she won’t want a frozen mouse.”
“Please don’t offer Emma Koenig a mouse. Or mention rodents at all.” With a visible effort, he left it at that, though Charlie could tell his father was dying to list all the topics that absolutely should not come up in conversation. It boiled down to the same message:Can you be normal for once, Charlie?
Jean would have known he was joking. Speaking of irrelevant information. Charlie nodded a silent promise to say as little as possible.
“We need to put our best foot forward with the Koenigs,” his father continued, keeping his voice low. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Charlie raked his teeth over his bottom lip, stalling. “Maybe?”
“Priority numero uno for you this weekend is getting to know Emma. Shouldn’t be too much of a hardship. Can’t imagine you had many opportunities to socialize with pretty girls out there in the jungle.”
“What do you think scientists look like?” Charlie asked, genuinely curious.
“My point is that it would be a big help if you could at least try to charm Emma,” his father said on a sigh. “Like you did with that singer.”
Because that turned out so well. Charlie kept the thought to himself, not that his father would have listened. “Maybe I should stay here by the door. Take people’s coats.”
“It’s summertime. And your mother has it handled. You’re with me.”
He knew his dad had always wanted a son who was a carbon copy of himself, but since Charlie didn’t have a showman mode,he didn’t bother to mimic his father’s ear-to-ear grin as he followed him to the living room. Once there, they headed straight for the banquette where Human Emma had settled.
She would make a very convincing ghost, Charlie thought, now that he’d gotten a better look at her. Even her hair was the color of the floaty bits you had to peel off an ear of corn. The only thing missing was a long white dress—and getting her to put down the apparently riveting book she was reading. Charlie had to squint to make out the title under the illustration of a shrieking green creature, lips moving as he puzzled it out.The Ego and the Mechanisms of Defenceby Anna Freud. Huh. That made him think of Jean’s friend, who studied psychology—
Except that wasn’t right. She was a reporter, not a grad student.
“Smile,” his father hissed. Charlie gave it his best shot, letting it drop when she didn’t look up.
Mr. Pike cleared his throat. “Emma, you remember Charlie?”
She peered at him over the spine of her book. “From the hallway? Yes.” Her voice was so soft, Charlie had to strain to make out the words.
“The two of you actually met years ago, at a conference in Salzburg. You ate pretzels together. I’m sure Charlie has fond memories.”
“Uh,” Charlie started to say, breaking off when his father glared a warning. “That sounds… well.” He swallowed, uncomfortable with an outright lie. “I do like pretzels. The soft kind, anyway.”
