“Bumble Bee, can you help cook dinner as I finish up in here. Winnie is finally done with her tantrum so that I can unpack.”
Persephone raced out of the room, and I heard the back-door slam. I shook my head.
I smirked. “Not our Winifred.”
My mom glanced over her shoulder with one eyebrow high.
“You can’t even say that with a straight face.”
“Still not as bad as Persephone.” I retorted.
My mom shook her head, causing the bent strands to wobble on the top of her head.
“Your father still holds it over my head, naming her after Hades’ bride.”
“I don’t blame him. Way to pick a fitting name, by the way.”
She sighed and shook her head. I couldn’t see her, but I would’ve bet that she rolled her eyes.
“I was working on all that Ancient Grecian stories at that time.”
My mother, the romance novelist. When she was pregnant with me, it was during her first couple of contemporary stories. Persephone was during this weird ancient time period she was going through. Thank God that was a short phase. I however, didn’t mind hearing about all those ancient God and Goddess stories. Then the last couple of years has been her Victorian and Regency timeframe.
I went past my mom, grabbed a frozen pizza, then breadsticks out of the freezer, then plopped them on the counter. Walking into the other room, I opened a teal tote and moved some papers until I found the cooking sheets. Carrying them into the kitchen, I preheated the oven.
“This house doesn’t seem so bad, right?”
I glimpsed over at her as she was placing glasses into a cabinet.
“We’ve been here four hours,” I muttered.
“Well, at this point in that house in Maryland, we found that raccoon in the house.”
I bent over, laughing hard.
“Oh, my God, your screams were so loud!”
“I’m sorry when one opens the bathroom, they do not expect to find a furry friend.”
I ripped open the pizza box and placed the pizza on the pan as I continued to laugh.
“I was upstairs thinking about that watermelon room.”
She smiled. “That was funny. This house is in a nicer neighborhood. I have a room for my writing, and you don’t have to share with either of your sisters. The school is in the distance that you can ride your bike.”
I shook my head as I put the pizza in the oven.
“That bike has a lot of miles on it. I love that thing.”
“If you need a new one, we can get you a new bike.”
I shrugged. “Nope, I’m good.”
My mom turned around and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I’m an awesome chef.”
My mom threw her head back and chuckled.
“You are so talented; you should have your own television show.”
She came over and hugged me. My mom kissed the top of my head.
“Where is dad anyway?”
“Probably cursing me right now.” She said and went back to unpacking.
“Is he putting your bed together?”
She nodded. She was pulling some of her decorative mugs out and placing them next to our tall glasses.
“You’re going to be lucky if you have a bed tonight. Dad swore last time that he was going to throw that thing in the backyard and burn it.”
“I know, but he loves me.”
I rolled my eyes and threw the breadsticks into the oven as well. Almost as if on cue, I heard a loud curse from the other room. Winnie squealed and banged on one of the pots on the floor.
“I’m telling you, mom,” I started. “her first word is going to be a curse word.”
Her brown eyes cut to me.
“Don’t you jinx me.”
I laughed.
“Only with all my love.”
“Go check on your dad and make sure he’s not making firewood, please. They don’t make beds like that anymore.”
“Okay, listen for the timer.”
Walking past Winnie and the stairs, I turned into my parent’s first-floor bedroom. There were a couple of dressers spread out with some boxes on top. My dad was in jeans and a grey shirt. The word ‘Army’ was in black, block letters across his chest. As if the movers didn’t already know why they were helping us. His brown hair was a little lighter these days as it had white sprinkled in.
“Hey, dad.”
My dad crouched down near one of the legs of the bed.
“This thing might be real-wood, but it wasn’t meant to be messed with this much.”
I knew how that bed felt. One too many moves in my taste too. I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at my dad.
“Mom wanted me to check-in and make sure we weren’t having a bonfire tonight.”
Another curse escaped his lips, and he sat down.
“Is dinner almost ready?”
He was avoiding the big wooden subject in front of him.
I smiled. “Pizza is in the oven.”
He glanced over at me with a wide grin on his face. “That’s my girl.”
I laughed. “Okay, I’ll tell mom the bed survived another move.”
My dad pointed at me with the screwdriver. “Its last move.”
This time it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“This time, I mean it. They’d have to make me a millionaire to move.”
“Huh.”
“I mean it, Bumble Bee. This old body says retirement isn’t far.”
“If you retired, mom would kill you.”
He chuckled.
“Probably, but that still means the last move. Your mom won’t be moving if I’m not asking her to.”
I laughed. The loud beeps from the kitchen echoed.
“Dinner is ready.”
“I’ll be
