Page 89

Unscathed is an exaggeration. I am fairly wounded internally.

Genie, who never in her life has withheld announcing a thought from her brain, still looks like she would rather get run over than proceed with this plan. But she nods. Gives me a hug. And says simply, “All right, girl. We’re going to get you to Christmas. This will be the new plan. Consider me your personal emotional bodyguard. I’ll knock down anyone who tries to kick your harmony out of sync.” She sees my expression and adds, “Peacefully. I’ll knock them down peacefully.”

I smile. This is as good as I’m going to get out of her. “Thanks.”

She turns her attention to James, who by this point has managed to get the first suitcase up the stairs and is reaching, struggling with the second.

“Maybe climb a little. Pete this morning had to use the rail.”

She looks on with satisfaction while James, whose pants look ready to split, puts one foot over the railing. Catches my eye. Shrugs. “What? After this, I’m all in. Peaceful plan in action.”

She pumps her fist, then walks to the banister below James and puts her hands on her hips.

“Here,” she says with an exaggerated sigh. “Let me help.”

She picks up my suitcase and holds it out with great satisfaction three inches from his reach. “Got it?” she says.

“If you could”—James clears his throat, reaching—“extend your arm . . .”

“Oh sure. Here?” Genie extends half an inch. Looks back over her shoulder at me while he struggles. Grins wickedly.

“Little more,” he says.

The suitcase handle gets a teeny, tiny bit closer. “Here?”

“Not quite.”

After looking over at my face again, Genie corrects herself. Slowly, painfully slowly, in fact, she extends the handle until it’s in James’s grasp.

She smiles at me with eyes that say There. Nothing to worry about. I am totally and completely on your side. No drama. None.

And then my mother turns the corner.

Chapter 12

“And look at you! So helpful!” my mother exclaims as James holds both handles of the suitcases and begins walking up the stairs. He’s panting slightly. She’s grinning at him like he’s doing something truly world-stopping here. Solving crime. Teaching kids to read. Curing cancer.

Genie sees her face and immediately goes into bodyguard mode.

“Isn’t he, Mrs. Hollis? He’s just going to take those upstairs.”

The way she says it is like a shoo, shoo at James to hurry up and get away from the woman who, it must be said, has a tendency to let her hopes get ahead of her.

But my mother isn’t letting James get away anywhere fast, and with her hands clasped softly (enthusiastically?) together, she steps up to the piano at the bottom of the stairs and looks up. “Well then, you are just the right two people I’ve run into. Perhaps you and Chloe can do us a favor real quick when you get down.”

Genie frowns. “I can help.”

“We don’t need your help right now, Genie,” Mom says, not even looking at her but keeping her eyes on James, the current prize. “No, this is perfect for the two of you, James and Chloe.” She says our names together like they need to be paired on an invitation. My mother has officially met James three times now and I’m pretty sure she would give him her car if he asked for it.

She’s twice as gullible as me.

“Pete and I are happy to jump in—”

“Then go see Nana in the kitchen. She’s got a roast on that needs stirring,” Mom says curtly. “Nope, if you and Chloe wouldn’t mind, James, it’d be a real help . . .”

“Happy to help however, Mrs. Hollis,” James says.

Mom doesn’t even wait for my answer.