She stopped talking when she saw me, her blue eyes, lashes thick with mascara, widening. I put my glass down on the counter, thinking I’d overstepped by helping myself.
“Oh, my God,” she said softly, putting a hand to her chest. “You look just like... Waverly?”
Her voice broke on the word, and I saw now she was pale, like she literally had seen a ghost. “No,” I said quickly. “I’m Emma. Her daughter.”
“Emma?” she repeated.
“Saylor,” Gordon offered. “That’s her other name.”
The woman moved her hand to her mouth, still staring at me. “I’m sorry,” she managed finally. “I just... I just didn’t expect you here.”
“It was kind of last-minute,” I told her. “My dad was leaving the country and I didn’t have any other place—”
Before I could finish, she had crossed the short distance between us and was pulling me into probably the tightest hug I had ever experienced. It felt like she was squeezing the breath right out of me.
“Oh, my God,” she said again. Over her shoulder, Gordonobserved our embrace, chewing a thumbnail. “You’re her spitting image—I saw you there and it was like she was back for a second.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Now, finally, she pulled away, and I saw tears in her eyes. They were so blue, like Mimi’s. Like my mom’s. And mine. “Do you even remember me?”
I paused, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “I—”
“Celeste,” she told me, putting her hand back on her chest. “I’m your aunt. Do you remember? And Gordon there, she’s your cousin.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at Gordon again, then back to her. “Right. Hi.”
Celeste blinked, a tear running down her face. “Oh, God, you must think I’m a total psycho, look at me.”
“You’re fine,” I said as she reached over to a roll of paper towels and ripped one off, dabbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry you weren’t warned.”
“Well, that’s Mama for you,” she said. She blew her nose with a honk. “We’ve only talked on the phone three times today already. Are you hungry? I was just about to make Gordon something.”
“Oh,” I told her, “you don’t have to do that. I can just—”
“Sit,” Celeste said, gesturing to the table. She handed me my water. “Now, let me find those tortillas...”
I went to a chair, doing as I was told as she opened the fridge and began taking things out. A moment later, Gordon joined me, bringing a thick paperback book along with her.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“Oh, Lord,” Celeste groaned. “Don’t get her started about those damn gorillas.”
“They arechimpanzees,” Gordon said. From the annoyance in her voice, it was clear this was a common exchange.
“Can I see?” I asked, nodding at the book. She pushed it toward me and I flipped it over.The Allies, Gathering Two: Justice Begins, it said in thick raised print on the cover. The illustration was of, yes, a chimpanzee, but with very human features, staring into a red-and-yellow-streaked setting sun. “Oh, the Allies series. I remember these. There are, like, a million of them.”
“Twenty in the first gathering, fourteen so far in the second,” Gordon replied. “And that’s not counting all the extra editions and compilations, plus the manga and graphic novels.”
“It’s like she’s speaking another language,” Celeste added from the stove, where she was now heating up a frying pan. “I gave up trying to follow years ago.”
Gordon, unfazed, flipped the book back over and opened it to a bent-down page, then started to read. After a moment, she reached up, twirling a piece of hair around one finger.
“She’s gone,” Celeste told me, tossing a tortilla into the frying pan. “Gets lost when she reads. Thank God for it. I give her a hard time, but I was never good in school. She is.”
“What grade is she in?”
“Starting fifth in the fall. She’s in accelerated readingand math,” she replied, sounding proud. “Clearly not my child, but I will take some of the credit.”
