The Summer Children (The Collector #3)(51)

We can tell the exact instant the girls coming down the steps see it, because Victoria-Bliss doubles over cackling, losing her balance, and both Inara and Priya have to grab the back of her shirt to keep her from cracking her head on the stairs. “I LOVE IT,” she yells across the terminal, either not noticing or not caring about the glares sent her way from other passengers and families.

As soon as they’re close enough, it’s a tackle of hugs, and even Victoria-Bliss punches Eddison on the arm. It’s basically her version of a hug if you’re male.

“Where’s Vic?” asks Priya, looping her arm around Eddison’s waist and pinching him when he tries to take one of her bags.

“Office politics.”

She rolls her eyes, and pinches Eddison again when he makes another try for the bags. “Is he regretting the promotion yet?”

“Not as much as he would be regretting retiring if he hadn’t taken it.” Giving up on Priya’s duffel, Eddison manages to get both Inara’s and Victoria-Bliss’s overnight bags.

At which point Inara reaches out for Priya’s duffel, which the other girl willingly surrenders.

Eddison wilts. There’s really no other word for it. He looks like a puppy who doesn’t know what it did to get yelled at.

“Stop pouting,” Priya tells him calmly. “I made a promise to Keely about some of the pictures in there.”

“Have I ever gone through something of yours without explicit permission?”

“You have not, but this was about making a fifteen-year-old more comfortable with letting me take the pictures, so I promised her that Inara and Victoria-Bliss are the only ones other than me who’ll touch the bag, much less the pictures.”

He considers that for a moment, then adjusts his grip on the other two bags. “Fine.”

It’s a cheerful ride to the restaurant, a Mongolian grill at which Priya insists we eat at least once per visit. They tell us about shows they’ve seen and some of the weirder patrons at the restaurant where Inara and Victoria-Bliss have worked for years. Priya shows us a picture of the giant colorful sticker chart on the back of the door where they mark off different ethnic foods they’re trying this summer, and for some reason none of them can explain, the stickers are all of professional wrestlers.

Once Vic sends us word he’s on his way home, we finish up and herd everyone back into the car, still laughing and talking over each other. It’s later than I realized, the sky edging into night. Inara is the first to spot the house. “Oh, he finished repairing the garage,” she notes.

I catch Sterling’s grin in the rearview mirror, but she doesn’t turn around to share it with the girls.

Eddison pulls the car into Vic’s usual spot on the driveway and we spill out, grabbing bags at random to carry in, with the exception of Priya’s duffel, which she grabs herself. Vic meets us outside, twirling three key rings on one finger. All three girls pile against him for a hug, and he’s laughing as much as any of them.

Sterling snaps a picture on her phone.

“All right, these are for you,” Vic announces, handing each of them a ring with a key. Each key is different, the fun decorated ones you can cut at the hardware store rather than the boring silver or brass ones that come standard with a lock. The girls look at the keys, at each other, and then back at him. “This way.” He leads them onto the new mini-sidewalk that curves off from the driveway to the outside of the garage, ending near the back of it at a sturdy door. “Try it.”

“Vic . . . ,” Inara says slowly.

“Try it.”

Her key is bright blue with ladybugs on it, and it slides easily into the lock. She’s immediately met with a narrow, fairly long flight of stairs, and the other two follow after her when none of us show signs of moving. Then we race up after them.

As we round the corner, there’s a bright flash from a camera, which has to mean Jenny and Marlene were already waiting. Over the spring and early summer, the hired crew has been hard at work adding a second story to the garage, the top level fully insulated and wired for electricity. There’s a small kitchen, mostly built for snack purposes, a full bathroom, a bedroom with a set of three staggered beds, a cross between triple bunk beds and a stepladder, and the biggest part, a living room with comfortable couches and beanbags and with a TV in one corner.

“Welcome home,” Vic says simply, as the girls stare around in wonder.

They drop their bags and tackle him in another hug that sends him toppling back onto a couch. Just before he lands, Priya grabs one of the throw pillows and tucks it behind Vic’s back to soften the landing. She grins, bouncing on the seat beside him, and Victoria-Bliss laughs and chatters, but Inara, eyes bright, turns her face into his shoulder and holds tight.

Slipping between me and Eddison in a move that only startles Eddison a little, Sterling puts her arms around our waists. “Today’s a good day,” she says quietly.

In spite of everything that happened earlier, I have to agree.

Eddison doesn’t say anything, but he’s got the small, soft smile that only comes out for family, and that’s better than a cheer.

The next day, Vic drops the girls off at Eddison’s on his way to work with a stern warning to spend the day relaxing, and Sterling joins us shortly thereafter with breakfast. None of the three girls are especially morning oriented, and I’m sure they stayed up far too late with the giddiness over the apartment. When they’re a little more awake, we cycle through turns in the bedroom to change into swimsuits and head down to the pool. Inara and Victoria-Bliss in high-backed one-pieces don’t surprise me. However comfortable they’ve grown with the enormous butterfly wing tattoos that were forced on them, they don’t generally choose to have them show in mixed company.