Ruby (expressively exhaling): “But it’s taking forever! And dad won’t let us help…” Tad (trying hard to contain a laugh): “After you find your Aunt Morticia.” Ruby (squinting): “Papa, can I have some special hot coco?” The other kids perked their ears up but continued to keep their eyes aimed forward. Intent on securing a cup of cayenne laced dark chocolate coco, her gaze slid right over me and on to Tad standing just inside the screen door on my left.
Ruby (trying a parental end-run): “Grandma, can we make special coco now?”Īunt Pearl (a smile in her voice): “It’s a little late, dear, you need to ask your papa if it’s okay.” Standing still as a statue, I watched Ruby’s eyes wander down the line of dim adult silhouettes until they landed on Aunt Pearl – three seats away from me. About the time I figured the only way they’d work out I was literally standing under the dinner bell was by ringing it, my youngest niece grew bored with her peripheral participation in the game and turned around. A minute ticked by, then two, but none of the kids registered who’d made the funny, which sent a corresponding ripple of stifled chuckles thru the adults seated behind them. My reply sent a laugh rippling across the line of lookouts – because both Dylan and Ian’s frolicking kitten t-shirts sported a neon hue – pink and orange, respectively. Me (blandly): “Not since we were twelve, and I figured out no one cool wears neon.” Uncle (sounding amused): “Once or twice.”ĭylan (over his shoulder, his eyes still scanning the yard): “More than that!” Speaking of those five adorable lookouts, they’d shifted from shouting out hints to peppering my cousins with questions.ĭo you see her dad? / Uncle Ian, do you want to borrow my flashlight? / Did the blueberry bushes just move? I’m pretty sure I saw it move! / Can I try looking? Please! / Have you ever caught Auntie Morticia dad? Me (twisting the cap off my beer): “The small fry were harder to fool than my cousins.” Wood (softening his voice): “You’re losing your touch Morticia, twenty minutes?” Tucking in next to Wood, who’d stationed himself in the patio chair next to the dinner bell, he handed me a beer he’d had waiting at his elbow. Easing open the screen door, Squiddy and I slipped onto the back porch and quietly shut it behind me. Tad was slicing himself a second piece of cake when I stole into the kitchen, returning my puckish grin he saluted me with a wave of the cake knife. (This was the lure Aunt Pearl placed before us to get my cousins and I to comply with her ‘photo op’!)
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