He swallowed. “I—I—meant rooster. I stayed at that pilot’s place. There was a rooster that wouldn’t stop crowing.”
She made a face. “You must have imagined it. They only crow at the break of day.”
“Well, apparently this rooster’s circadian rhythm is out of whack.”
A reluctant laugh burst from her lips. He knew it was reluctant by the pause that followed. It looked like she was trying to hold her breath to keep the laugh in check.
A moment later, as though remembering why they didn’t like each other, she turned on her heels.
“Aunt Delilah!” Ceci shouted as they entered the living room.
A beaming Aunt Delilah held out her arms and walked right past her niece.
“I’m so glad you could come.”
He could see she was going to do the European thing and kiss him on both cheeks. So, he did likewise. But he was surprised when she pulled him back in for a third one.
“Three kisses bring good fortune,” she said, winking at him. “Which means I suspect they’ll have cleared the runways by the end of today and you should be able to fly out tomorrow. Given that’s what you want, of course.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
It’s very much what I want.
She shook her head, clicking her tongue and making a tsk-tsk sound. “Look at that eye. Poor boy.”
“Aunt Delilah,” Ceci cried. “You could have told me you invited someone tomyhouse. Pixel and I have plans.”
Aunt Delilah turned around. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” snapped Ceci.
“What are your plans, Piper?” Aunt Delilah asked.
Piper had a lost look. “Well—”
Ceci jumped in. “Right now, we’re going to make snow demons. Come on, Pixel.”
Soon thereafter, Clarke heard the front door slam.
“What are snow demons?” he asked.
“What most people refer to as snow angels.” Aunt Delilah grabbed his arm and led him to the sofa. “Ceci has such a drive to make an impression, it doesn’t really matter to her if it’s a good one or a bad one.” She invited him to sit down and then sat beside him. “Do you have a good relationship with your father?”
The question caught him off guard. He hesitated. “I guess, I mean, it’s pretty good.”
“Translation—it’s complicated. I understand. As I was saying, with Ceci even a bad impression is better than no impression at all.”
Clarke couldn’t escape the feeling she was trying to tell him something but expecting him to connect the dots. Maybe so that she could truthfully deny having told him at some point in the future, if necessary? Clearly this had something to do with Ceci’s father.
“So snow demons rather than snow angels,” he ventured.
She nodded.
“What about her mother?” he asked.
“My sister died giving birth to Cecilia.”
Clarke swallowed. “I see.”
