stood in the doorway. I waved them over.
I’d already asked for a high chair for Justin, and as Gwen got him settled, Maria and Zack argued about what kind of pizza to get. Maria didn’t like anything spicy; Zack didn’t like anything that remotely resembled a vegetable. We settled on a large plain cheese pizza for the kids and a small one with artichoke hearts and black olives for Gwen and me. Sodas all around—no caffeine for the kids, though. “They’ve had enough stimulation for one day,” Gwen said.
She produced three small boxes of crayons, and the kids got busy drawing pictures on the backs of their paper place-mats. She watched them for a moment, then smiled at me. “I should’ve been a Boy Scout,” she said. “With kids, my motto has become ‘Be prepared.’ ”
She sat back in her chair, blew out her cheeks, and smiled at me. “Hey, I like your necklace.” She motioned at the amulet. “You never wear jewelry.”
“Thanks. It was a gift from a friend.”
We chatted about normal stuff, Gwen doing most of the talking: how the kids were doing in school, Maria’s soccer games—this was her first year in the Youth Soccer League—neighborhood gossip, Nick’s hopes for a promotion at work. When the pizzas came, she chose a skinny slice from the plain and cut it into small pieces for Justin, who immediately started smearing tomato sauce all over his face. Zack wouldn’t let his mom cut up his pizza for him; after one slice, his face wasn’t much cleaner than his baby brother’s.
“So what have you guys been doing all morning?” I asked. “You left awfully early—I tried to call around eight, but you were already gone.”
Gwen’s eyes slid away from mine. “Oh, we—”
“We went to the hospital an’ saw a doctor!” Zack shouted. “We got stuck with needles this big”—he held his hands about ten inches apart—“an’ it hurt!”
“Zachary.” Gwen’s voice held a warning tone.
Maria whacked her brother under the table. “Shut up, dummy! Mom said we’re not supposed to tell,” she said in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard two tables over.
Gwen smiled in a tight-lipped way that said she didn’t want to talk about it. Fine with me. I was more than happy to avoid the details of the kids’ medical charts.
Then it dawned on me. Oh, no. “Gwen, you didn’t.”
“I don’t want to discuss this now, Vicky. Not in front of the kids.”
“Sheila Gravett is not interested in helping you. I don’t care what lies she told you.” My voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. “The woman has no ethics. You know how those werewolf experiments turned out. What’s next—a Cerddorion clone?”
“What does that mean?” asked Maria, eyes wide.
I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Okay, Gwen was right. I shouldn’t be scaring the kids with tales of medical abuse. But talking about it was one thing—actually taking them to Gravett, letting her poke and prod them, was another. I glared at Gwen.
“It doesn’t mean anything, honey,” I said, smoothing a strand of Maria’s blonde hair behind her ear. “I just got carried away. I don’t like doctors.” I wrinkled my nose to show my distaste.
“Me either!” proclaimed Zack. “ ’Specially not the kind with needles.”
“She just drew some blood samples, Vicky. That’s all she needed. I doubt we’ll ever hear from her again.”
I wasn’t so sure. Gravett was greedy and ambitious. She didn’t care if her research caused harm. And she’d lied to a mother about her intentions regarding her kids. If Gravett would stoop that low, she was capable of anything. Gwen had cooperated this far, and I’d bet she’d have trouble getting rid of Gravett in the future. We’d have to talk about it, but not now.
Searching for a topic that would get the kids’ minds on something else, I asked about their Halloween plans.
“Mom won’t let us watch the parade!” Zack’s brow furrowed with the injustice of it all.
“Don’t you want to go home so you can go trick-or-treating? You’ll get better loot that way.”
“Trick-or-treat was last night. Tonight’s some stupid Halloween party at church. It’ll prob’ly be like Sunday school with costumes.”
“Don’t say ‘stupid,’ ” Gwen admonished.
“They’ll have a haunted house,” Maria said.
“So what? Bobby told me the Boston parade is gonna have
“Not this year, Zack,” I said. “Zombies aren’t allowed in the parade. They have to stay in their own part of town. Anyway, zombies aren’t all that scary—they’re a lot like regular people.”
“Yeah, except their skin is rotting and their noses are falling off and they got blood in their eyeballs!”
Not much I could say to that. It was a pretty accurate description.
Maria pointed outside at the plaza. “Look!” she said.
Zack turned so fast he must’ve given himself whiplash. “What? You mean that guy selling Halloween balloons?”
“No, I saw—”
“Look, look!” Zack shouted. “Somebody’s doin’ juggling! Can we go watch, Mom? Pleeeeeease?”
“Shh. Indoor voice, Zack.” She turned to look outside. “If he’s still there after we’ve finished eating, we can go.”
“No, now. I want to go
Justin, bouncing up and down in his seat, echoed, “Now! Now!”
No indoor voices from either kid. They’d been good all through the meal. Let them have some fun. “We’re pretty much done anyway, Gwen. You take the kids over there. I’ll get the bill and come join you.”
“Thanks,” she said, standing. “Bathroom first, kids. We’ve got sticky faces to wash.” With all three of them in tow, she disappeared in the back of the restaurant.
THE STREET PERFORMER WAS GOOD. BY THE TIME I GOT there, he was balancing on stilts, juggling half a dozen balls, and keeping up a patter that made the audience laugh. I didn’t see Gwen and the kids at first, so I wandered around until I spotted my sister, who held Justin up on her shoulders. Zack had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. When the juggler asked for a volunteer, he ran out into the performance area, and the juggler laughed and told him he needed someone a little bigger. Zack puffed out his chest and yelled in his loudest voice, “I’m big!” The juggler pointed to a burly six-foot man, who stepped forward. Zack smacked himself in the forehead and yelled, “But not that big!” He was getting more laughs than the juggler. So the juggler told him to wait and he’d have a job for him. After the trick—which involved climbing up on the big guy’s shoulders, juggling some dangerous- looking flaming torches, then doing a backflip to the ground—he gave Zack a hat and told him to make sure everyone put something green in it. Zack swaggered around the edges of the crowd yelling, “Put something green in. That means money! No frogs and no spinach. I want dollar bills—lots of dollar bills!”
I edged over to Gwen. “That young man has a future in sales.”
She smiled, keeping an eye on him while she swung Justin down from her shoulders and perched him on her hip.
“Where’s Maria?” I asked.
“She’s right over there.” She tilted her head to the right, then yelled, “Zachary Evan Santini, you give the man his money!”
I looked to the right but didn’t see Maria. Zack came running over, a dollar grasped in his fist. “Look what the man gave me for helpin’ him! He said I collected more money than he got all day!” His eyes shone. “Mom, where can I learn how to juggle?”
“We’ll talk about it when we get home. Where’s your sister?”
“How am I supposed to know? I was in the act!” He turned to me, waving his dollar and beaming. “Aunt
