Read Online Pall in the Family by Dawn Eastman - Free Book Online Page A

mother was up to something.
    I put my bag in the front closet and tucked my phone into my jeans pocket. Hoping to find dinner already in progress, I wandered toward the dining room. Seth sat alone at the table. The dogs were curled up together in the corner.
    Asking about his day got me a summary of the dog testimony gleaned from many hours in Aunt Vi’s company. Tuffy had not been forthcoming. He was sticking to his story about bacon. Baxter had reported that Tish had been “tense” recently. Although how he could tell the difference between tense Tish and normal Tish I had no idea. I wasn’t buying any of it. My feelings about Aunt Vi and her occupation were well known in my family but, as long as I lived here with her, I had promised to behave and keep my opinions to myself.
    Mom bustled in with dinner. My father followed with a bottle of wine, then came Vi carrying a stack of plates and a foul attitude.
    Dad sported a swoop of white hair that rose straight up out of his head and gave him a perpetually surprised demeanor. I’m pretty sure that the shock of moving in with my aunt had never worn off. He is a dentist who still sees patients a few days a week and fills the rest of his time listening to his police scanner and forcing us to decipher 10-codes.
    Tonight, he was fairly upbeat and sat next to me, humming to himself.
    â€œYou’re in a good mood,” I said, looking him over.
    â€œWe’re having pot roast.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.
    â€œYou don’t really like pot roast,” I said, and spooned carrots onto my plate.
    â€œNo, but you do, which means your mother has plans for you and not for me.” He pointed to each of us and snapped his napkin open.
    â€œOh, Frank,” my mother said. “That’s ridiculous. Clyde had a terrible day. I thought she deserved a treat.”
    I knew then that I was in trouble.
    As usual, the table grew quiet as everyone worked through the first serving. My mother turned on the dining room lights as the storm picked up. I sat between Seth and Dad. One was eating like he hadn’t seen food in weeks; the other was pounding the wine and humming. It made for a distracting meal. Vi broke the silence. My father poured himself a generous second glass of pinot noir as she began her observations. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
    â€œI’ve been working with Tuffy all day, and I can’t get anything out of him.” She leaned forward, glanced at Tuffy, and lowered her voice. “Shih tzu’s are not known for their discerning minds. They bark at anything and have a generally overinflated opinion of their own power in the world.”
    My father muttered something to his wine that sounded like “It’s not just the shih tzus. . . .”
    Vi continued to educate us on the vagaries of shih tzus and their temperaments and finished by saying she was shocked she could get so little out of our particular houseguest. She glanced in his direction a few times, but he seemed to be ignoring us. Her conclusion was that he should be shouting his feats of daring and courage from the rooftops but he wasn’t, and she was getting nowhere.
    Seth addressed himself to his dinner with the focus of a Zen master, and I kept checking to be sure he was breathing between bites. The storm outside was picking up steam, the thunder rumbling closer.
    I interrupted Vi’s monologue when she stopped to take a drink. “I heard today that Sara and Tish were having some trouble?” My mother glanced up quickly.
    â€œOh that was nothing,” she said with a brisk flip of her hand, dismissing whatever I was about to say.
    â€œI heard it was something,” I said. “Tish tried to block her certificate. What’s up with that?”
    â€œWhat certificate?” Seth asked, coming up for air.
    â€œThe city council grants a certificate to newly trained mediums to allow them to practice within city