Hmm. Come to think of it, I’ll be the one dealing with her for the next couple of hours. Maybe I should’ve gotten her water,I think as I belatedly come to realize my footsteps are slowing. It’s not because I’m reluctant to return to Clodagh with all this junk, but more like my brain is trying to make sense of something. Of what I’m seeing as, through the crowds, I spot my niece talking to a woman. Short and slight in stature, especially hunkered low in front of Clodagh, she seems familiar somehow. Maybe it’s the coat she’s wearing.Emerald green.Or maybe it’s the way she flicks her dark hair over her shoulder.
Mila still has hold of Clo’s hand, seemingly part of the conversation. But it’s the woman who has my attention, everything around me seeming to shift into slow motion. Objects and people around me blur, my vision tunneled and focused. Though I seeheras clear as day, and my anticipation dials high as I wait for her to turn.
“Watch it, mister!”
I come back to my surroundings as a group of kids is herded across my path. I momentarily lose sight of Clo and ... I pick up the pace.
“Maltesers!” Clodagh reaches for the packet balanced in the crook of my arm.
“Who was that?” I ask as my gaze sweeps the space for her. “The woman you were just talking to?”
“The one in the green coat?” Mila asks. “No idea. She stopped to talk to Clodagh when she heard her accent.”
“She picked up my wothe when I dropped it.” Clodagh pulls a bottle of Sprite from my hand. “She’s ’merican too.”
“Did she say where she was from?”
Clo shakes her head. Then shakes the bottle.
“She was perfectly nice,” Mila puts in. “And I didn’t take my eyes off—”
“Course you didn’t.” I don’t mean to be curt, but I can’t throw off this prickling sensation. It’s like fire ants are crawling all over me, like if I don’t find the answer, they’ll start to bite. “I just thought I recognized her.” Or I hoped. “It’s fine,” I add, plastering a smile across my face.
“The lady was buying tickets to another show,” Clo says, passing her soda back, impatient for it to be opened.
“Was she?” I loop my fingers around the top.
Clodagh nods. “She just moved to London and said hearing me talk reminded her of ’merica.”
“That’s nice, darlin’.” I begin to twist the bottle top, though the violent-sounding hiss makes me tighten it again.
“I told her we were going to seeAladdinand that you had gone to buy me a thoda.”
“That I had?” I ask quickly.
“Her uncle,” Mila answers, looking at me strangely. Can’t say I blame her.
“Are you gonna open that?” Clo taps the bottom of the plastic bottle.
“This?” I hold it up as though I’m not even sure what it is, and Clo nods. “Not just yet.” I make to slot it into my pocket before realizing this stupid frock coat doesn’t have any pockets. “Maybe when we get to our seats. Speaking of”—I glance Mila’s way—“they’re going to deliver the rest to us in there.”
“Thank you, Matt. That’s so kind of you.”
“I told the lady they don’t have a popcorn machine here.”
“Popcorn?”
“Yes.” Clodagh frowns. “Are you not listening to me?”
“Of course I am. You said they don’t have popcorn here.”
“Yeah. I told her I love popcorn, but the lady’s favorite thnack is thomething else they don’t got here.”
“Too bad,” I answer, careful not to repeat my mistake.
“She likes zeppole, and I said I like it too. That my daddy sometimes buys me it from a truck when we visit him at work. That’s a good memory I have,” Clodagh says a little sadly. “She said she likes it because of good memories too. Zeppole reminds her of country fairs, that’s what the lady said. She has a boy’s name. But she was a lady, not a man.”
“What kind of boy’s name, Clo?”
