Save the Date(31)

“Well, that’s very nice,” my dad said, nodding. “Good for you! You’re actually making a difference, unlike my layabout children.”

“Hey,” Danny, J.J., and Linnie said together.

My dad shot them all a grin, then turned to Danny. “But what was that cookie business called? This is going to bug me now.”

“Crumby Service,” Danny muttered after a moment, and my dad broke into a smile.

“That’s right!” he said, chuckling. “So! Brooke. How long are you in town? And where are you staying?”

“We’re staying here,” Danny said. “We’re here for the weekend.”

“But it’s your sister’s wedding this weekend,” my dad said, frowning.

“Right,” Danny said, shooting me a glance, clearly wanting me to help. Our dad was one of the leading botanists in his field, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be incredibly slow on the uptake sometimes. This had migrated into his character in the strip, Geoff, an absentminded professor who was always losing things, which Waffles the beagle would inevitably find.

“They’re coming to the wedding,” I said, making my voice upbeat and cheerful. “Isn’t that great?”

My dad looked over at Linnie. “Did you know about this?”

“It’s—fine,” Linnie said, even though it sounded like she was speaking through clenched teeth. “The more the merrier, right?”

“Not for a wedding,” J.J. muttered.

“Well—welcome,” my dad said, giving Brooke a smile. “We’re very happy to have you.”

“I, um,” Brooke said, turning around and reaching into a paper bag, which she’d set down by her feet. She stood up, holding a very ugly-looking plant in her arms—it mostly looked like someone had put a bunch of twigs in a decorative pot. “I brought this for you. Danny’s told me so much about your garden, so I just thought . . .” She held out the plant toward my dad.

“That’s not a Parrot’s Beak?” he asked, patting his head, then bringing his glasses down to look at it more carefully. “Truly? How unusual. Thank you so much.”

“Apparently it takes a while to bloom. But if you plant it now, by this time next year, it should be in flower.”

There was a silence in the kitchen, as my dad looked down at the plant. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s a nice thought.”

“You can always plant it in your new garden, right?” J.J. asked, his tone more upbeat than usual.

“I’m sure that . . . wherever I end up, I’ll have a garden there. And I’m sure it’ll look lovely.” He shot Danny a look, but it was over before I could read into it.

My parents hadn’t yet bought another house—they said they were waiting until the escrow closed. But I also hadn’t asked them any questions about where we’d be moving or what the house would look like, mostly because if I didn’t talk about the fact that we were going to leave this house, maybe it wouldn’t happen. Talking about it—about logistics and specifics—would make it real in a way I didn’t yet want to deal with. There was a piece of me that knew this was elementary school logic, but I couldn’t help it. And even though I knew rationally that I couldn’t blame her, I found myself glaring across the kitchen at Brooke—she had brought up the one thing I really didn’t want to think about this weekend.

“Anyway,” my dad said, setting the plant on the counter and walking over to the alarm panel, “did this go off again?”

“Yeah,” J.J. said, shaking his head. “And we really need to have a talk about what you picked for your alarm code.”

“It’s twelve thirty-four,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”

“Just think about it,” J.J. said. I did, and realized what he was talking about a second later.

“The alarm code is one-two-three-four?” I asked my dad, who just shrugged.

“You mom and I could never figure out how to change it.”

“Did I hear Danny?” my mom called as she came inside and hugged my brother. “How was your flight?”

“No complaints,” Danny said, ducking out of the way as she tried to fix his hair.

“Hello,” my mom said, looking at Brooke, a question in her voice. She glanced at Danny. “I thought you promised you weren’t going to bring your assistant with you again.”

“That’s Brooke,” Linnie, J.J., and I all said together.

“Danny’s girlfriend,” Linnie said.

“We’ve totally heard about her!” J.J. added.

“She does not,” my dad jumped in, “sell cookies on the Internet.”

“Danny’s mentioned her,” Linnie said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” my mother said after a small pause. She exchanged a glance with my dad, who gave an exaggerated I have no idea shrug. It made me glad that my parents weren’t responsible for keeping state secrets, since they weren’t very good at subterfuge. “Welcome,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite mask her confusion.

“I brought this for you,” Brooke said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a cellophane-wrapped basket of soaps. She held it out to my mom. “To thank you for your hospitality.”