“This kid!” says Uncle Carl. “He thinks I have the neck of a basset hound!”
Birdie puts his hair up into a bun. “I can fix it. Patrick wouldn’t let us come over here, so I had to use someone as a model.”
Uncle Carl lies back on the couch with his arms stretched out and his eyes closed. “So you pick a dog!”
I have to steer him back to normal. “Uncle Carl, what can we do for the landing party besides a cake? Maybe party balloons? Ones with hearts or something?”
He doesn’t move. “Glow sticks. In the brown bag. My buddy who works at the Shasta Dam gave them to me.”
“Glow sticks?” Birdie says.
“I don’t know,” groans Uncle Carl. “I saw this thing on the TV where someone spelled out ‘I LOVE YOU’ on the beach with them. But I don’t even know how many we have. Maybe there’s not enough to do that.” He flaps his arms around. “Don’t ask me. I obviously don’t know what a good idea is!”
“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s a great idea. It’s a sunset balloon ride, right? Don’t worry. I’ll count them.”
I dump the glow sticks onto the floor. There are two different kinds and most of them are individually wrapped.
“And mark my words, Mr. Bird,” says Uncle Carl, sitting up. “I’m going to talk to that goat about your new clothes. It’s ridiculous. Shows you what a clam knows about style!”
I say, “And you have to change out of those before Patrick comes back, okay, Birdie?”
“I will.” He rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry about the kid,” Uncle Carl says, lying back down. “He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. And he can do that here.”
Birdie smiles as he leans over his sewing. It almost feels like we are back here for good.
No amount of pizza or homemade bread and cheese can replace Birdie being able to be himself. It just can’t.
The phone goes off and I jump. Uncle Carl lets it go to voicemail, but no one leaves a message.
I inspect the two different kinds of glow sticks. One package says SAFETY LIGHT STICK 12 HOUR ORANGE GLOW and the other says 6" GREEN LIGHT STICK.
Uncle Carl gets up and paces around again. He’s decided he’s going to report the animal collector/thief to the police in San Francisco and Sacramento because surely the thief would have to go to a big city to sell her.
But then he lies back down and says he can’t face making another phone call today. He closes his eyes and tells Birdie to wake him up when he needs a human neck.
I was going to finish counting the rest of the glow stick packages, but instead shove the two in my hand into my pocket and say, “I’m going to go get some quesadillas for us to eat. That will pep us up.” Plus I need some air to clear my head because my mind is starting to ask the question I don’t want it to ask: What happens if Rosie says no?
When I get down to the Quesadilla Ship, there’s a long line of people, including a group of seven who are all dressed with green hats that say Lisa & Fargo Get Hitched.
“Can you lend me a hand, love?” Rosie asks. “There’s this whole Lisa and Fargo group going to the balloons, and I need that block of cheese grated.”
I feel this surge of hope because hot-air balloons and getting hitched! It’s something that people do! Hot-air balloons are romantic!
Rosie’s phone rings and she sighs and picks up, the whole time flinging cheese and onion and tortillas around. “Okay, okay, but where is Linda, Mum? The nurse. Linda. Where is she?” She sighs again. “Right now? Okay.”
She hangs up. “I need to go. My mum needs me. But look at this queue.” She looks over at the line. There are probably almost twenty people out there. “I can’t afford to lose these customers,” she says. “Especially with me having to close up while I’m in England. How did I become a one-woman show?”
That’s when I see it: the answer.
This will be the thing that makes her realize Uncle Carl is the one. Maybe he won’t need a ring at all.
“What about Uncle Carl?” I say. “I bet me and Uncle Carl could do these orders. We’ve both helped you before.”
“I don’t know, love.” She plates three more quesadillas and adds sour cream and salsa. “It’s a lot, running this joint. Even for a short while.”
“But you have all the recipes posted up and I’ve made a ton of quesadillas and also Uncle Carl has helped you before. I even remember how to do the money.”
Her cell phone starts to ring again. She looks at it and then puts it back in her pocket. “Okay,” she says. “But only if he’s okay with it.”
There’s a quesadilla almost burning.
She nods up toward Uncle Carl’s apartment. “Go on, then. Go get him.”
I smile, hop out of the Quesadilla Ship, and run upstairs.
“Rosie needs help,” I say as soon as I go through the door.
Uncle Carl jumps up before I can even explain. Birdie shrieks about messing up the bow tie, which is back around Uncle Carl’s neck. I tell them about the long line of people and Rosie needing to go to her mom.
Uncle Carl doesn’t hesitate. “Sorry, Mr. Bird. But my Rosie needs me.”
“That’s okay. I want to brainstorm anyway. It’s time for my muse to visit.” He closes his eyes and holds his hands to his temples. I give him a look because where does he come up with these things? But Uncle Carl is calling to me from the doorway.
We run down to the truck and see Rosie frantically flipping quesadillas. “You sure you can do this? I won’t be long,” she says.
“We can do it, Rosie!” I say, stepping inside the truck.
Uncle Carl glances anxiously at the people in line and starts looking unsure. But again I get a burst
