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Authors: Delphine Dryden
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returned with the toy and his tail held high.
“Who is that?” Tess demanded.
“Wabash,” Mikey said with a grin that probably felled high-school girls at twenty paces. “He’s our new mascot.”
“He’s your brother’s folly, Teresa,” said Uncle Stuart.
“You never let me and Lindy have a dog. We begged you, and you never let us have one. And now he gets one? So unfair!”
“Tess, you sound like a twelve-year-old,” Allison pointed out. “Here, boy!”
The animal galumphed over to Allison, his fur flopping with each step, and sat politely while she knelt to pet him.
“He’s gorgeous, Mikey . And he’s so well behaved. Where did you get him?”
“Golden Retriever rescue group in Indianapolis. He only stays with me because the coach’s little girl is allergic. He’ll be coming to all the games this year.” He ran a hand fondly through the dog’s thick ruff and Wabash looked up at him with obvious devotion.
“Totally unfair,” Tess insisted, but stooped down and let the dog lick her face.
Allison continued inside to fetch the marinade, dumping her backpack on a chair. The familiar smells of the kitchen greeted her, along with a flash of a memory of her mother standing at the kitchen sink, smiling out the window as her father passed by with the lawnmower. The kitchen always took her right back to the year she was sixteen, as though time had stopped in this one room. Even now, thirteen years later, Allison always expected to walk in and see her mother in the kitchen, as she had every day after school while her mother still lived. Sometimes it still made Allison cry, that horrible moment of memory and realization. After her mother’s death, she had started entering the house by the front door after school. She didn’t realize why until years later.
Coming to herself and shaking off the moment of melancholy that the kitchen time warp so often caused, Allison left the room quickly. Saucepan and brush in hand, she returned to the yard.
The tradition was that the family would eat outside at the picnic table then proceed in as many cars as necessary to the first home game. Most of the town would be there. Allison tried to get herself into the mood as she devoured her steak, but was still feeling a little detached. When she heard her cell phone bleep, telling her she had received a text, she jumped at the harsh electronic noise that seemed so out of keeping with the picket-fence surroundings.
It was a short text, and she wasn’t surprised to see it was from Seth.
Seth Brantley: Hey princess, did you bring your laptop?
She smiled and looked around. Nobody was paying any attention; they were all still eating and chatting. With an eagerness she found a little disconcerting, she thumbed the buttons and composed a reply.
Me: Yep. It’s shackled to my wrist, you didn’t notice?
Seth Brantley: Your dad have a decent connection?
Me: Yes, why?
Seth Brantley: Marielle bailed on us again. For a hot date.
Me: The nerve!
Seth Brantley: I know, right? Can you come raiding again?
She tapped her fingers thoughtfully over the keys, debating. She had her laptop, she even had her headphones and microphone in her computer bag, and she could easily devise a good reason for needing to return to her father’s house before ten. But was it a good idea to let herself be tempted into a repeat of the post-raid activities they had enjoyed last Friday?
“Who are you texting?” Tess asked, looking over her shoulder. Allison automatically covered the screen with her hand, blushing as she did so. “Is it Professor Love?”
“Stop!”
“What’s his name again? Seth?”
“Yes, it’s Seth. His name is Seth, and that’s who I’m texting, and would you please shut up now?” Allison spoke in a muffled hiss from the corner of her mouth, hoping against hope that her father hadn’t heard. Her hope was dashed a moment later.
“Professor Love? Allison, something you want to tell us?”
“No, Daddy. Tess is
“Who is that?” Tess demanded.
“Wabash,” Mikey said with a grin that probably felled high-school girls at twenty paces. “He’s our new mascot.”
“He’s your brother’s folly, Teresa,” said Uncle Stuart.
“You never let me and Lindy have a dog. We begged you, and you never let us have one. And now he gets one? So unfair!”
“Tess, you sound like a twelve-year-old,” Allison pointed out. “Here, boy!”
The animal galumphed over to Allison, his fur flopping with each step, and sat politely while she knelt to pet him.
“He’s gorgeous, Mikey . And he’s so well behaved. Where did you get him?”
“Golden Retriever rescue group in Indianapolis. He only stays with me because the coach’s little girl is allergic. He’ll be coming to all the games this year.” He ran a hand fondly through the dog’s thick ruff and Wabash looked up at him with obvious devotion.
“Totally unfair,” Tess insisted, but stooped down and let the dog lick her face.
Allison continued inside to fetch the marinade, dumping her backpack on a chair. The familiar smells of the kitchen greeted her, along with a flash of a memory of her mother standing at the kitchen sink, smiling out the window as her father passed by with the lawnmower. The kitchen always took her right back to the year she was sixteen, as though time had stopped in this one room. Even now, thirteen years later, Allison always expected to walk in and see her mother in the kitchen, as she had every day after school while her mother still lived. Sometimes it still made Allison cry, that horrible moment of memory and realization. After her mother’s death, she had started entering the house by the front door after school. She didn’t realize why until years later.
Coming to herself and shaking off the moment of melancholy that the kitchen time warp so often caused, Allison left the room quickly. Saucepan and brush in hand, she returned to the yard.
The tradition was that the family would eat outside at the picnic table then proceed in as many cars as necessary to the first home game. Most of the town would be there. Allison tried to get herself into the mood as she devoured her steak, but was still feeling a little detached. When she heard her cell phone bleep, telling her she had received a text, she jumped at the harsh electronic noise that seemed so out of keeping with the picket-fence surroundings.
It was a short text, and she wasn’t surprised to see it was from Seth.
Seth Brantley: Hey princess, did you bring your laptop?
She smiled and looked around. Nobody was paying any attention; they were all still eating and chatting. With an eagerness she found a little disconcerting, she thumbed the buttons and composed a reply.
Me: Yep. It’s shackled to my wrist, you didn’t notice?
Seth Brantley: Your dad have a decent connection?
Me: Yes, why?
Seth Brantley: Marielle bailed on us again. For a hot date.
Me: The nerve!
Seth Brantley: I know, right? Can you come raiding again?
She tapped her fingers thoughtfully over the keys, debating. She had her laptop, she even had her headphones and microphone in her computer bag, and she could easily devise a good reason for needing to return to her father’s house before ten. But was it a good idea to let herself be tempted into a repeat of the post-raid activities they had enjoyed last Friday?
“Who are you texting?” Tess asked, looking over her shoulder. Allison automatically covered the screen with her hand, blushing as she did so. “Is it Professor Love?”
“Stop!”
“What’s his name again? Seth?”
“Yes, it’s Seth. His name is Seth, and that’s who I’m texting, and would you please shut up now?” Allison spoke in a muffled hiss from the corner of her mouth, hoping against hope that her father hadn’t heard. Her hope was dashed a moment later.
“Professor Love? Allison, something you want to tell us?”
“No, Daddy. Tess is
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