the pancakes, Alysha, or they’ll be overcooked on that side.”
Auntie Gwen had poured the pancakes herself, charms were too easy with a ladle of batter and a hot grill, but she’d seen no point in standing over the stove in midsummer when there were younger members of the family available.
Any other morning, Charlie knew Allie would have turned the command into a test of will; this morning, she flipped the pancakes.
When they came to the table, Auntie Gwen buttered each one carefully, poured syrup over the whole stack, chewed and swallowed two dripping forkfuls, and pushed the plate away.
Cradling a mug of coffee between both hands, Charlie could feel the buzz traveling under her skin, trying to get out. She’d spent the night sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed, quietly picking out the melody lines to songs she couldn’t quite hear. A glance at the abandoned pancakes, and she heard herself say, “Still full?”
Allie gasped. Charlie thought she caught a whiff of decaying leaves, saw Auntie Gwen lift her head, and was most definitely not feeling reckless enough to look her in the eye. After a long moment of weighted silence, Auntie Gwen’s fork hit the table at the edge of Charlie’s peripheral vision.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you care to repeat it?”
“Not fucking likely.” When the silence grew more weighted still, she realized she’d answered out loud.
But Auntie Gwen merely sighed and said, “I could use a coffee, Alysha.”
Charlie watched Allie move around the kitchen, watched her walk up and set a full mug on the table, and finally looked at Auntie Gwen because Allie’s path had put the older woman in her direct line of sight. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Allie asked, frowning.
Charlie shook her head and watched Auntie Gwen wrap her fingers around the mug. They all pretended to not see them shake.
“It was hard not to be there,” she said at last. “Bea and Carmen and I, we have years of ritual tying us to Edward.” She took a long swallow of coffee and added another spoonful of sugar, the spoon rattling against the sides of the mug. “And we lost Janet, Abby, Betty, and Dot.”
“Those horns aren’t just for show,” Allie said softly.
Charlie stared at her cousin. “Well, duh! You knew we lost four aunties and you didn’t mention it?”
“We didn’t lose four. They did.”
“We are them!”
“We were them.”
“Is she still them?” Charlie demanded, nodding at Auntie Gwen.
“She is the cat’s mother.” Auntie Gwen flinched. “Oh, dear God, I sound like Jane.” She took a deep breath and stared at her coffee. Charlie had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if she was scrying, maybe checking the box scores while she gathered her thoughts. Auntie Gwen had a touching belief that the Jays would pull it out of their collective asses after the All Star Break. A long moment later, she exhaled and squared her shoulders, clearly having come to a decision. “New branches of the family separate, Charlotte. Given modern technology, connections won’t be entirely severed this time—beads on a string is the inane analogy Meredith is using given that there’s only two beads.”
“This time?”
“Don’t be stupid. You don’t honestly think the entire family, from the bright beginning, is there in rural Ontario?”
Charlie glanced up at Allie who didn’t seem surprised. “You knew?”
She shrugged. “Seemed kind of obvious.”
Auntie Gwen sighed. “You haven’t thought about it at all, have you?”
“Why would I?”
“Why, indeed.” This second sigh held subtext Charlie ignored. “To answer your question, Carmen, Bea, and I will always be at heart a part of them —we have too much history there to ever break entirely free. As for the younger members, with every ritual the emphasis will shift until their ties are entirely here. As for you, Charlotte . . .”
“Me?”
“The assumption was that you were too wild to
Auntie Gwen had poured the pancakes herself, charms were too easy with a ladle of batter and a hot grill, but she’d seen no point in standing over the stove in midsummer when there were younger members of the family available.
Any other morning, Charlie knew Allie would have turned the command into a test of will; this morning, she flipped the pancakes.
When they came to the table, Auntie Gwen buttered each one carefully, poured syrup over the whole stack, chewed and swallowed two dripping forkfuls, and pushed the plate away.
Cradling a mug of coffee between both hands, Charlie could feel the buzz traveling under her skin, trying to get out. She’d spent the night sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed, quietly picking out the melody lines to songs she couldn’t quite hear. A glance at the abandoned pancakes, and she heard herself say, “Still full?”
Allie gasped. Charlie thought she caught a whiff of decaying leaves, saw Auntie Gwen lift her head, and was most definitely not feeling reckless enough to look her in the eye. After a long moment of weighted silence, Auntie Gwen’s fork hit the table at the edge of Charlie’s peripheral vision.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you care to repeat it?”
“Not fucking likely.” When the silence grew more weighted still, she realized she’d answered out loud.
But Auntie Gwen merely sighed and said, “I could use a coffee, Alysha.”
Charlie watched Allie move around the kitchen, watched her walk up and set a full mug on the table, and finally looked at Auntie Gwen because Allie’s path had put the older woman in her direct line of sight. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” Allie asked, frowning.
Charlie shook her head and watched Auntie Gwen wrap her fingers around the mug. They all pretended to not see them shake.
“It was hard not to be there,” she said at last. “Bea and Carmen and I, we have years of ritual tying us to Edward.” She took a long swallow of coffee and added another spoonful of sugar, the spoon rattling against the sides of the mug. “And we lost Janet, Abby, Betty, and Dot.”
“Those horns aren’t just for show,” Allie said softly.
Charlie stared at her cousin. “Well, duh! You knew we lost four aunties and you didn’t mention it?”
“We didn’t lose four. They did.”
“We are them!”
“We were them.”
“Is she still them?” Charlie demanded, nodding at Auntie Gwen.
“She is the cat’s mother.” Auntie Gwen flinched. “Oh, dear God, I sound like Jane.” She took a deep breath and stared at her coffee. Charlie had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if she was scrying, maybe checking the box scores while she gathered her thoughts. Auntie Gwen had a touching belief that the Jays would pull it out of their collective asses after the All Star Break. A long moment later, she exhaled and squared her shoulders, clearly having come to a decision. “New branches of the family separate, Charlotte. Given modern technology, connections won’t be entirely severed this time—beads on a string is the inane analogy Meredith is using given that there’s only two beads.”
“This time?”
“Don’t be stupid. You don’t honestly think the entire family, from the bright beginning, is there in rural Ontario?”
Charlie glanced up at Allie who didn’t seem surprised. “You knew?”
She shrugged. “Seemed kind of obvious.”
Auntie Gwen sighed. “You haven’t thought about it at all, have you?”
“Why would I?”
“Why, indeed.” This second sigh held subtext Charlie ignored. “To answer your question, Carmen, Bea, and I will always be at heart a part of them —we have too much history there to ever break entirely free. As for the younger members, with every ritual the emphasis will shift until their ties are entirely here. As for you, Charlotte . . .”
“Me?”
“The assumption was that you were too wild to
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