The three of us turned shocked faces toward each other. We sat there for a moment in frozen silence, then wordlessly got out of the car.
“Ah, there you are,” said Dad, walking up to us. “Come on in.” As though he hadn’t noticed our stunned expressions, he kept going up his path, then climbed his front steps and pushed open his front door.
The three of us looked at each other again, then followed. We were still silent. Still processing.
And I was thinking about that movie where aliens took over the bodies of humans.
When we got inside, Asher was the first to speak. “Dad,” he said carefully. “What were you doing next door?”
Our father flopped onto his living room couch and stretched out his legs. “Fixing a broken facet.”
“What?” I managed to ask. Not the most eloquent of questions, but then again, the fact I could form a word at all was cause for self-congratulation.
“I heard Trixie making a ruckus, and went to see what was wrong. Water was gushing from a broken faucet, and I could fix it. So I did.”
“You fixed her faucet,” I repeated dumbly. “You helped her?”
Asher turned his gaze to me. “See?” he murmured so quietly, only I could hear. “People can change.” He was clearly trying to make a point about Nat and me, but I had no idea who he thought might change.
“Does that mean your war’s over?” Iola asked Dad. “Are you and Trixie friends?”
Dad smirked. Lifting one arm, he extended his clenched fist toward us. Then he opened it. He was holding two long plastic bolts and wing nuts.
“What are they?” I asked.
“The bolts that held on Trixie’s toilet seat. Next time she sits on it, she’ll go flying.”
Asher let out a pained-sounding sigh. “You fixed her faucet, then sabotaged her toilet?”
“Fixing her faucet was the ruse that got me into her house.” Dad chuckled. “Clever, huh?”
“He still fixed the faucet,” Asher muttered. “It’s progress.”
I nodded dumbly, silently agreeing.
Just a few weeks ago, Dad would probably only have set foot in Trixie’s house with a can of gasoline in one hand and a lit match in the other. But since Mason was now happily shacked up with Carlotta, Trixie’s daughter, the entire family had been trying to get Dad and Trixie to end their feud. Judging by the way they constantly tormented each other, I’d thought it would be impossible.
But maybe our efforts hadn’t been in vein. Could they finally be calling a truce?
A piercing scream came from next door. Then a door slammed and Trixie shouted.
“Edward Lennox, you obnoxious swine-fiddler! Give my bolts back!”
“Which bolts?” Dad bellowed back from the couch, almost deafening me. “The bolts on your neck that hold on your head?”
“You know which bolts!”
Asher plucked them from Dad’s hand. “I’ve got this.” With a long-suffering sigh, he headed outside.
Iola’s eyes were dancing with amusement. “You’re so bad,” she scolded Dad, settling next to him on the couch. “I’m glad you’re not my enemy.”
I sighed. “Please don’t encourage him.”
“You have to admit, it was a good prank.”
I gave my head a resigned shake, but didn’t contradict her. Iola had lost her parents when she was young, so no wonder she enjoyed Dad’s antics.
“Did you see that prank they pulled on the late night comedy show last Tuesday?” Iola asked Dad. “It was—”
“Merpeople,” interrupted Dad.
“Merpeople?” repeated Iola with a questioning frown.
I groaned, knowing what was coming.
“That show is run by mermen and mermaids.” Dad said. “Their tails only appear when they get wet. That’s why they don’t drink water on set. Spilling it would give their secret away.”
After Dad retired from his job, he’d drifted for a few years, grumpy and unhappy. Now he had a purpose, and putting together an alternate view of the world seemed to absorb him. I tried to think of his complicated web of conspiracy theories about merpeople, mind control, secret societies, and alien invasions as being good for keeping his mind active, like doing a jigsaw puzzle.
“I have a magazine you should read,” Dad told Iola, getting up to select one from his bookcase.
She read the cover as he handed it to her. “The scale of the merpeople infiltration. Ha. Scales. That’s funny.” When he gave her a puzzled look she said, “Because fish have…?” She shook her head. “Never mind. The article sounds fascinating.”
I had to hand it to Iola, she wasn’t mocking Dad like most people would. Her tone was kind, and so was the smile she gave him.
In fact, she reminded me of how Nat took care of Mack, indulging his quirks and trying her best to make him happy.
In comparing Nat to Mom, I’d been unfair. While my mother had no idea what love really was, Natalie’s love for her father was constant and real.
If only she’d been able to feel the same way about me.
Chapter Fourteen
Kade
At six o’clock on Saturday morning, I turned up at the café for Mona’s interview. Nat was already there, nervously cleaning the already spotless kitchen.
She was wearing a dress that hugged her breasts and waist, and flared from her hips into a wide skirt. Her hair was loose on her shoulders and she’d put a shiny gloss on her lips.
She was breathtaking.
“Hey.” I couldn’t have kept the grin off my face if I’d tried.
“Hi.” She looked a little pale.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m nervous. I’ve been watching Mona for years. Never thought I’d be on her show.”
“You don’t have to do the interview. It’s not too late to tell her I’m doing it alone.”
“No, it’s okay.” She gave me a wan smile, fiddling with my mother’s ring on her finger. “It’s free publicity for the café, and I’m going to mention it’s for sale.”
The throaty roar of a car engine came from outside.
“Sounds like my agent has arrived.”
We went out to see Billy pulling his lanky body out of his flashy red Ferrari. He greeted me with a wide grin, then his gaze went to Nat and turned appreciative.
“You must be Natalie.” He
