Chapter 10

Lucas

Over the weekend, you would think that Maggie’s sudden spells of chipper, high-strung nervousness would wane.

After all, there isn’t half as much for her to do. But still, something is off. We play Hide and Seek with Madison. Charlie is uninterested, and a little offended, even. The phone rings, and Maggie jolts out of her skin, but it’s only a pollster. Madison wants to watch The Little Mermaid and turns the television on. Maggie, who is dusting in the hallway, pokes her head around the corner to check the screen.

“Do you want to watch The Little Mermaid with us, Maggie?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“I want to dust the whole place,” she says, “and I don’t like The Little Mermaid anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” Maggie doesn’t look like a classical Feministicus Americanus, but looks can be deceiving, I’ve heard. “Because she’s a princess and she gives up her voice and abandons her people and all that?”

Maggie rolls her eyes and smiles, shaking out her distracting hair. “Because it’s completely improbable,” she answers. “The mermaid just happens to meet the prince immediately after getting her new legs? He’s a prince! He’s very busy.”

“I think this one is mostly a figurehead,” I say with a grin.

Maggie grins back at me and literally twirls away, looking thrilled with her duster in hand. She looks like a lovesick princess, too, I want to tell her, but I don’t want to encourage what’s flowering between us. I don’t want to get to know her, I remind myself. I don’t want to find the place where she hides all her weird thoughts.

There’s an abrupt knock at the door and I stand, swaggering through the foyer. I sweep by Maggie and almost don’t notice that crazy glint in her eyes. But I register it and hesitate. Her lips are drawn and cold. Her eyes are fixed on some invisible point, filled with dread. She clutches the duster, but she stops moving.

“Are you OK, Maggie?” I ask her, trying not to scoff at how dramatic her expression is.

Maggie swallows and says, “You know, I’m actually not, because I meant to dust the TV first, because it’s such a hotbed of mite activity, and I’m going to do that now or it’ll haunt me forever, excuse me.” Seeming dazed, she shuffles back down the hall and disappears into the den where Madison is.

I turn from her and back to the insistent, perfunctory knock.

“What?” I snap, throwing the front door wide open.

The man glaring back at me looks like me, but a few years younger: James Gray, all of thirty-four and still has no idea what he wants to do with his life. Work for me? Hell no. Not fun enough for him. Right now, he’s modeling. But he’s thinking about journalism, I think. Or did he want to give culinary school another try?

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” James admonishes, still beaming. He steps across the threshold and hollers for Charlie, who comes galloping out of his room with no hesitation. It’s more energy than I have seen from him in months. “Hey, man.” He draws Charlie into a deep hug and pats his back. Madison comes skittering out of the den and leaps into his arms. James pitches her over his shoulders and she squeals with delight.

Maggie pokes her head out of the den and smiles meekly. “Hello there,” she offers in her husky little voice.

James whirls and literally drops Madison, and I have to lunge forward and catch her behind his back. I hoist her up into my arms.

“Watch it, dipshit,” I snap at James.

“Yeah, Uncle Dipshit,” Madison parrots. I smile down at her, my sour mood lightened.

“I’m James,” he says, ignoring us both to step forward and give Maggie an awkwardly long handshake. “I’m your boss’s better-looking, younger brother. Part-time model. I like boating and wine and rubbing suntan lotion on girls who might be prone to sunburn. I’m an Aries, but don’t freak out. I’m one of the sensitive ones.”

Maggie snorts, then shakes her head. “I’m Maggie. Maggie Marshall.”

“That rings a bell. Shit, I heard something about a Marshall the other day. What was it?” He taps his bottom lip, then sweeps his index finger into the air. “Ah, any relation to Sofia Marshall? I heard about her on the radio.”

“I don’t think so,” Maggie breathes.

Who is Sofia Marshall?

I’m about to ask who the hell he’s talking about when Madison belts out, “Uncle James draws the best zombies!” She squirms from my arms, bolting for the kitchen.

“Come here, Uncle James,” she yells over her shoulder. “We got new green chalks!”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be dry enough for chalks outside anytime soon, Mad Cow,” James yells back, breaking off from the foyer and following her into the kitchen. “You want to try inside?”

“Yes!” Madison shrills.

“How long are you going to be here?” Charlie whines, shuffling down the hall after them. “Because you said you’d help me with the last level of Amnesia and that was, like, weeks ago!”

“We shall play and beat Amnesia, my dear boy.” James’s voice waxes and wanes from the kitchen.

“I’m going to head upstairs and gather the laundry, get a jump on Madison’s outfits for next week, maybe,” Maggie says, drifting toward the staircase.

I almost insist that she spend more time with James, but then I remember that she’s not really part of the family. She’s an employee and can spend her free time however she likes, so I wave goodbye to her and go to hang out with my brother, who lives on the other side of the mountain and doesn’t visit every week by a long shot.

After Charlie has been satisfied by completing the final boss fight on Amnesia, and Maggie is upstairs, helping Madison with her bedtime routine, James shrugs on his coat and says he’d better get going if he wants to be home before dark.

“It’s already pitch black out there, boy,” I tell him, slapping his back and dragging him close for a quick, hard hug. “Better get going. Drive safe, OK?”

“Hey, man, before I go,” James says, glancing upstairs and then back to me, lowering his voice further. “Are you sure about this new nanny? Did you check her out before you let her in?”

I scoff openly. “You know me. I made her pee in a cup and everything.”

“OK. She does seem perfectly nice. I worry about the kids, after Astrid and Charlie and all that.”

“I ran her social,” I explain tersely. “She’s a clean twenty-two-year-old who just got her degree from Oberlin. Child psych. With old lady neighbor references.”

“All right, all right, if she’s got old lady neighbor references.” James puts his hands up in surrender and laughs, shaking his head. “And if Rachel picked her, she must be on the straight and narrow.”

We say goodbye and embrace again. We agree that we’ll see each other on Thanksgiving, and I open the front door. Bitter black night howls outside the porch, and I close the door a little, telling James that he can stay in the guest room, if he wants to.

“Hell yes,” he barks loudly. Then he lowers his voice, “That’s the new nanny’s room now, isn’t it?”

I glower. “The other guest room,” I clarify. “So, you don’t trust her enough to be around my kids, but you’ll still sleep with her.”

“I’m a skeptical man, which means that I only believe in the things that I can touch and feel,” he tells me with a proud little smirk. “Give me one night with her and I’ll check her out. I’ll make sure everything is… on the up and up, as they say.”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” I grumble, now ushering him out into that hellscape.

“I’m FBI!” James cries proudly, pivoting in the door frame. I slam it as he adds, “Female Body Inspector!”

I turn from the closed door and Maggie stands on the stairs, peering at me with amusement crinkling her large gray eyes. “I wanted to let you know that Madison wants you to read her the bedtime story tonight.”

“Of course.”

I step past Maggie on the stairs and she adds, in a warm, flirtatious voice, “And thank you for not letting your brother inspect my body.”

I’m reminded of how deeply I inspected her body only a few days ago and nod stiffly, refusing to turn around and look at her.

“No problem,” I croak. “Good night, Maggie.”

One of us has to be strong.