“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liz asked. She put her hand to her chest in mock indignation. “It has never been proven that my cooking has given everyone food poisoning. As far as we know, that little problem we all had was due to a bad case of stomach flu. It just happened to hit us all at the same time.”
“That’s right,” Alan said. “Exactly two hours after we all ate that wonderful quiche.”
Joe laughed.
“I can’t remember,” Alan said. “Joe, do you remember? Is quiche supposed to brown on top and liquid at the bottom. I can never get that straight.”
Joe covered his mouth and shook his head.
“I can’t believe you’ve all turned on me like this,” Liz said. “I have half a mind to never cook for you two again.”
Joe took a sip of water. The glasses were tall, full, and sweaty. It thunked back to the table as Joe set it down. A little sloshed on the the red tablecloth.
“I’ve been thinking,” Joe said.
Liz reached for a chip.
“Do you think maybe we should move again?” Joe asked.
“Whuff?” Liz asked. She put her hand up over her mouth to keep the food in.
“What do you mean, Joe?” Alan asked.
“I’m just thinking that maybe this isn’t the right place for us.”
Liz swallowed. “You mean this restaurant?”
“No,” Joe said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “Can’t we just say we gave it a try and it didn’t work out?”
“Is this because what happened today, Joe?” Alan asked. “In the attic when you almost fell?”
“No,” Joe said.
“Is this because of school?” Liz asked.
“Not really,” Joe said.
“Then what is it?” Liz asked.
“I don’t know,” Joe said. He seemed to shrink in his seat.
Liz folded her arms and pressed her lips into a line. She could handle any type of argument or discussion, but she wasn’t good at dealing with a discussion where the opposition refused to speak.
“Joe,” Alan said. “You have to understand—we made a big sacrifice and commitment when we moved here. Your mom’s family wanted to keep the Colonel’s house, but nobody could agree on terms until we offered to buy it. Now we’re in a tough position. We can’t just move. If we do we lose the house. Would you like to think about maybe switching to another school? Maybe a private school would make more sense? I know you’re bored in some of your classes.”
Joe shook his head.
“Then what?” Liz asked.
“At one of the private schools, most of the students are from out of state. They live right there at the school. That means you wouldn’t have to interact with so many people who have such a long history together. You wouldn’t be the outsider because all the students are outsiders to an extent,” Alan said. This was a difficult offer to sell because he didn’t really believe in it. The boarding students were probably at least as cliquey, if not more, because they spent so much time together. But maybe Joe just needed to be become more accustomed to accepting change.
“It’s not school,” Joe said.
“We have to assume that it’s related to school because you were fine all summer,” Liz said. “Do you understand that? You spent the summer making friends and spending time with your father and you were happy as a clam. Then, when school starts, you’re miserable.”
“I’m not miserable,” Joe said. “Don’t you realize that nobody wants us here?”
“What are you talking about?” Liz asked.
Alan reached over and took her hand. She tugged away from his fingers, but he held firm.
Joe collected his thoughts before he spoke.
“Nobody likes us and they wish we weren’t here. They want us to move away. I don’t know why we have to stay somewhere when everyone wants us to leave.”
“We’re not going to be bullied. Nobody has the right to tell us where we can and can’t live,” Liz said.
“Who are we talking about, Joe? Is this about Pauline McDougall?” Alan asked.
Joe shook his head.
“Who do you think doesn’t want us here?” Alan asked.
Joe rolled his eyes.
“Joe, come on,” Alan said.
“It’s everyone. Everyone says so—not just kids—the adults do too. They all say that we don’t belong here and we should go away. They say that we’re evil,” Joe said.
“Joe,” Liz said. She frowned.
“I’m serious, Mom,” Joe said.
Now Liz did pull her hand away from Alan. She took Joe’s hand in both of hers.
“Joe, let’s assume you’re right,” Liz said. “Even if everyone around was against us and thought we should move, would we let them bully us away? Our family has lived in that house for fifty years now. We belong here just as much as they do. They would have no right to tell us that we can’t stay. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Joe said. “It doesn’t make sense to stay somewhere when nobody wants you to.”
“But we want to,” Liz said. “We have history. We’re preserving that history by living in that house.”
“You have history,” Joe said. “Me and Dad could give a shit.”
Liz let go of his hand like it was hot.
“Joe,” Alan said.
Joe looked down at the table. His parents waited.
“I’m sorry I cursed,” Joe said.
“Your mother’s history is our family’s history,” Alan said. “The three of us are in this together. Nobody else has a say in where and how we live. If they don’t like it, they can move. You can’t control what other people think about you, Joe, you can only be true to your beliefs and live how you want to live. The next time someone bullies you at school, you come to one of us and we’ll help, okay?”
Joe nodded.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Meeting
OCTOBER 21
THE WORLD was orange and yellow. Sure, there were accent colors—the pale blue sky streaked with white clouds, and the occasional evergreen—but the leaves and lawn and even the carved pumpkins on the front porch agreed on the autumn color scheme. Alan stood a few feet from the road and looked up at the attic window. With the way the ground sloped away from the front of the house, the window looked way too high to get at, but it remained his best hope. Alan crossed his arms. It was a cold morning and he could see his breath.
Alan heard Bob jog up behind him and didn’t have to turn to recognized Bob’s stride. It was light and careful and persistent.
“Hey, Bob.”
“You preparing an assault?”
“In a way,” Alan said. He turned to look at Bob. He smiled. “Jesus, you’re wrapped up like a Spandex mummy.”
“It was goddamn cold when I left the house. I’ve got to get moving before I cool off too much. You need help later?”
“You read my mind,” Alan said. “If you’ve got some free time this morning, that is.”
“Nothing but time,” Bob said. “I’m not doing much at the house until I can get an inspector out. I can’t cover anything up until it’s approved, you know?”
Alan nodded.
“I’ll be by in about an hour,” Bob said.
“I’ll be up in the attic. Come on in if you don’t see me.”
“Hello?” Bob called.
Alan turned down his radio and cupped his hands around his mouth. He blew between his freezing fingers.
“Hold on, I’ll be right down.”
He went downstairs and found Bob in the kitchen.
“Come on up, I’ll show you what I’m up to,” Alan said. He led Bob up the stairs, through the opening in the closet, and then up to the attic.
Bob brushed a hand over the back of the tight insulation.
“This is looking good. You’ll have this place warm and toasty in no time,” Bob said.