Peter raised his hands in surrender.
“This entire thing reeks of bullshit,” Callan said. “You reek of bullshit, too, Pete. I’m going to do the reasonable thing, sit back, and assume the simplest reasonable explanation is true. Peter’s wrong, the locals are fucking with the Thorburns, just like they’ve been doing to my family since I was born. Same pressure and all the other stuff that affected Molly like it did also got to Rose, who’s always been a loner, and that’s why she’s freaking out.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s wrong,” Peter said. “But whatever. You’re out, then. Christoff’s out by association?”
“Yeah, I guess,” was Christoff’s response.
“The Walkers have walked. Kat?”
“Kathryn, Kathy if you’re somehow unable to pronounce my full name,” Kathryn said.”
“Kitty, then. are you on board?”
“You haven’t said what we’d be on board with.”
“Let’s say they’re telling the truth. Something happens tonight. We could take advantage, snoop while they’re distracted…”
“We can snoop now,” Ellie said. “Maybe we get caught, but so what? What’s the worst they could do to us?”
“The other option is that we can use Rose’s friends as body shields,” Peter said, ignoring his sister. “Which is an idea we should be considering anyway, if it gets that bad. You don’t have to outrun the bear. You have to kneecap the guy who’s outrunning you.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Callan said, “Why are you implying we’d back each other? Not counting my little bro, I despise you fucks. Why can’t I throw you to the wolves? I’d enjoy that.”
“Bear, not wolves,” Peter said.
“Whatever.”
“And the reason we’re not fucking with each other is because if they win,” Peter said, his voice low, pausing to look over his shoulder, “Rose wins. And fuck Rose, am I right? If we win, on the other hand, the house changes hands. First to Kitty-”
“Fuck you,” Kathryn said. “That document said it goes to Ellie after me, and I know you’re backing your sister. You’ll have a knife in my back the second I get the property. You’re on your own, you greasy little shitstain.”
Peter sighed. “Ellie?”
“Sure. I’ll slum it and work with you, how’s that?” Ellie asked.
“You, slumming it by working with me? You’ve been to fucking jail.”
“That actually sounds pretty accurate,” Callan said. “Her slumming it. Don’t think too highly of yourself, Pete.”
“You’re just stirring up shit,” Peter said. “Whatever. Ellie and me, then. I guess it’s every family for themselves?”
“Nah, I’m with you guys,” Roxanne said. “Got to be better than TV with only a hundred channels.”
“Not on my watch,” Kathryn said.
“You’re not my mom,” Roxanne said.
“I’m your de-facto mom, until the others get back.”
Roxanne smirked, a fake smile as cutting as any scowl or glare could be. “Can I strangle myself with my de-facto umbilical cord, then? I’m doing what I want to do, and I want to do this. Remember the Christmas before last, when I didn’t get the phone?”
“Who could forget?”
“Remember what I did? How I eventually got the phone?” Roxanne asked. “And after?”
“Specifically? No. I remember it all as one prolonged, high pitched sound,” Kathryn said.
“Exactly,” Roxanne said. She sounded positively gleeful. “You really think you can beat me when daddy and mom couldn’t?”
“I think if you make a peep and sound the slightest bit like you sounded then, I’ll smack you,” Kathryn warned.
“I’ll call that bluff,” Roxane said. “Hit me, hard as you can. I’ll hurt you worse. You have no idea how good I am at getting people in trouble.”
Kathryn scowled. I saw her clench her fist.
“Kitty,” Peter said. “I’m offering to take her off your hands, when the time is right. Stop arguing by reflex, and take three seconds to consider the blessing I’m bestowing on you.”
There was a brief pause.
Kathryn frowned. “You forfeit all remote privileges, Roxie. You sit there, you shut up, you sit still, and you don’t fuss while Callan, Christoff, and I watch what we want to watch. I won’t get in your way when Peter needs you.”
Roxanne squirmed. “Ugghh.”
“Take the deal or leave it.”
“Alright,” Roxanne said. She looked at Peter, “If this isn’t any good, I’m taking it out on you.”
“We’ll manage something good,” he promised.
Peter, Ellie, and Roxanne.
The three most problematic cousins, banding together. I let my head tilt forward, forehead hitting the glass.
“What was that?” Peter asked. “That didn’t come from upstairs.”
“I heard it too,” Ellie said. “Is it that bird?”
“Didn’t see a bird,” Peter said. “And I’m pretty sure the bird is upstairs.”
I could see Peter looking around, triple checking this time for eavesdroppers. “Let’s call this discussion quits for now. We’ve got about, huh, when does the sun set, this time of year?”
“Around five,” Callan said, sounding exasperated, his attention now on the television. Christoff had the remote.
“Then we’ve got just over five hours until it’s dark. Let’s sit back, observe, and see what opportunities arise.”
“Whatever,” Ellie said.
“I’m gonna walk around the grounds,” Peter said. “See what’s up.”
“And pester cigarette girl?” Ellie asked.
She’d overheard more than she’d let on.
“And pester cigarette girl,” Peter said. “Keep the pressure on, see what cracks.”
Ellie shrugged.
I sat and watched a bit longer, as Peter got his boots and jacket on and stepped out the front door. The others settled in to watch the television. Only Ellie seemed restless.
Right. Safe enough to move on.
I popped upstairs.
There was, going by the windows and picture frames that were still intact, no way into the library except to leap to the point where the full-length mirror was.
What were the odds the circle had been fixed and that I’d be trapping myself by leaping in?
No, I’d tested my luck and found it wanting.
I headed downstairs, checking on the other family members, and then collected the document with all the terms and conditions of the custodianship and inheritance.
I sat down opposite the library doors, and I set to reading. I wasn’t just going over the legal terms, but the notes in the margins. Three different handwriting styles. I could assume one was my dad, or Rose’s dad, one was Uncle Paul, and one was one of my aunts. Very possibly Aunt Irene trying to keep her eye on things.
About five pages in, I realized this wasn’t the first draft. One or two notes in the margins were a part of something bigger that wasn’t present. Copied over or reworded from a previous draft.