"You know, Teri, I don't need to ask for—"
"I didn't say ask," she said calmly. "I said told. You should have told me, that's all. I don't care if Tony's living with you. I know it's—I'm sure it must make things easier for you. I just need to know, so I can arrange Peter's schedule accordingly."
Brendan frowned. "Accordingly to what?"
Behind Teri the front door of the little mock-Tudor house swung open. Peter stood there, yellow rubber duck in one longyear. He smiled, staring at a point just above Brendan's head, then walked across the lawn towards him.
"We can talk about this later," said Teri. She wiped a smudge of dirt form her cheek and called to the boy. "Hi sweetie. Ready to go with Daddy?"
Brendan grinned as Peter came up alongside him. "Hey, Peter!" He caressed the top of his son's head, ever so gently, as though it were dandelion fluff he was afraid to disperse. "We're going to go see Kevin and the twins. Remember the twins? Give Mommy a kiss goodbye."
Peter remained beside his father. "I'll go get his stuff," Teri called as she started for the house.
"I'll bring him back Sunday afternoon. Is that still okay?"
Teri nodded. A few minutes later she returned with his knapsack and extra bag of clothes. "Okay. This should be everything. Here's the number where we'll be till Saturday."
She crouched in front of Peter and took his longyears in hers. He writhed and tried to pull away, but Teri only stared at him, her eyes glazed with tears. "I'll miss you," she said. Her voice was loud and steady. "You have a great time with Daddy and Uncle Kevin and the twins, okay? I love you, Peter—"
Peter said nothing. When Teri kissed him and stood, he drew the rubber duck to his mouth, rubbing it against his cheek.
"All right then." Brendan started for the car, turning and beckoning for Peter to follow. "Wave goodbye, Peter."
The boy followed him. "Wave bye-bye," Brendan repeated, standing aside to let Peter climb into the back seat. Brendan strapped him in, then got in front. "Bye-bye," he said to Peter, the boy kicking at the seat in front of him. And, "Bye-bye," Brendan called to Teri, rolling down the window as he backed from the drive, "Bye-bye," as behind them she grew smaller and smaller, the rake just a rake again, his ex-wife just a mother, waving to her son as he disappeared down the street.
Kevin lived in an expensive contemporary house in Potomac, its cedar siding tinted a rich russet-brown and lushly overgrown with Virginia creeper and English ivy, its front yard a miniature forest of rhododendron and birch trees and azaleas. There were no stray leaves on the ground, save beneath a solitary Japanese maple whose bounty was scattered across the grass like crimson longyearprints.
"Uncle Brendan! Uncle Brendan's here!"
Two small girls, Cara and Caitlin, danced excitedly on the front porch. Twins, with long silken hair so deep a red it looked violet in certain lights, paper-white skin and green eyes. They were wearing smocked flowered dresses and their hair was ribboned with pink satin bows so immense it looked as though they were wearing throw pillows on their heads.
"Peter! Where's Peter! Hi Peter!"
The girls ran over to the car and began pounding on the window. Peter regarded them with the same reserved interest he'd shown the iguanas at the zoo, but when Cara yanked the door open and flung herself at him he kicked fiercely at the back of Brendan's seat.
"Cara! Hey, honey, come give Uncle Brendan a kiss—it's okay, Peter—come here, sweetie, remember he gets a little excited if—"
"Actually, you're our cousin." Caitlin stood watching him solemnly. "Not our uncle. Our first cousin once removed."
"Oh yeah? Well here, come give Uncle Cousin Brendan Once Removed a kiss—"
"Brendan!"
Another figure appeared on the porch, radiant in crimson velvet and ecru lace, her hair a gold corona framing a face even paler than the girls'.
"Eileen, hi—gee, you look great! Hi, Caitlin, Cara, hi hi hi hi—"
Brendan unfolded himself from the car and the twins' embrace, freed Peter from his carseat. Eileen clattered down to hug him, Peter sliding behind his father's legs as she did so; and Brendan felt that irresistible tug of lust and awe he always felt when he saw his cousin's wife.
"Wow!" He drew back to admire her dress, protected by a spattered apron with the legend JESUS IS COMING: LOOK BUSY. "You really dressed for dinner."
"Tell me about it." Eileen dabbed Brendan's chin with a finger, erasing a smudge of lipstick. "Girls, go get your father."
She swatted at the twins and sent them racing into the house. "And close the door! I've been doing this job out in Warrenton, redecorating Senator Weston's place," she continued, turning back to Brendan. "Almost broke my wrist on that goddam chainsaw , the chain came off and—"
Brendan laughed. Eileen had been a lingerie model—"the Rosey Underwear girl," she called it—for the Rosellen's Boudoir Catalog, before quitting to have babies and then become an interior decorator for the horsy set out in Middleburg. Now she wielded a chainsaw and glue-gun like Martha Stewart on steroids.
"—oh, but you know what it's like," she ended.
"Breaking my wrist on a chainsaw in a senator's house? Actually, no."
"And how is Peter?" Eileen's tone softened as she took in Peter, sheltered behind his father and chewing his rubber duck. "Hi, darlin'—"
She glanced at Brendan. "Will he let me hug him?"
"No. But Peggy—his teacher at Birchwood—he'll let her hold him, now. Sometimes."
Eileen gazed down at Peter. "That's okay," she said softly. "That's just fine, okay Peter?" She turned back to his father, holding the front door open. "I'm glad he's doing so well, Brendan. Kevin told me, that new school is great and he's just making such great progress …"
Brendan followed her inside, wondering what on earth Kevin could have said. The two cousins seldom confided anything more personal than Redskins' scores. "Oh, and listen," Eileen went on, taking his arm. "Tony said not to worry, he got the cider."
"The cider!" Brendan slapped his forehead. "I totally forgot."
"That's what I'm telling you, Tony's bringing it.
"Tony? I thought he had to work."
"Change of plans. Here, Peter, you can put your things in here. Brendan, you too"
"Brendan! Peter! Glad you could make it—" Kevin loomed in the doorway, beaming.
"Yeah, great to be here, Kevin, thanks."
"Girls!" Kevin ordered. "You all go play nicely together, you and Peter." He turned and made his way down the hall.
"Sure Dad." Caitlin smiled respectfully at the younger boy. "Hi, Peter. Would you like to come watch TV with us? In the other room?"
"It's down here," said Cara, and started off. Peter shook his head, looking at the ceiling and patting his rubber duck against one cheek.
"You know what?" Brendan started to explain. "Sometimes he doesn't like to go off on his own. But maybe in a few minutes, if I go—"
Without a word Peter began walking. Still gazing at the ceiling, but following Cara into the cozy room where a TV was already turned to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
"Hey, Brendan." Kevin stuck his head out from the kitchen. "What're you drinking?"
"Uh, club soda. Fizzy water, anything." Brendan's brow furrowed, and he crossed to where the children sat.
"He's watching with us," said Caitlin. On screen the camera panned a crowd of waving children, then swept up to take in a shapeless scarlet mass floating against a backdrop of skyscrapers and cobalt-blue sky. "Look Peter, it's Elmo!"
"Sesame Street. The universal language."
Brendan looked up to see Tony standing in the hall. He wore a black T-shirt, faded black jeans, and his leather jacket, augmented by four gallons of cider balanced very precariously in his arms.