Building a Family by M. K. Stelmack

Author:M. K. Stelmack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-09-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

SLEEP FOR CONNIE had been more like getting punched out. Now she was coming to, ringed by four young faces firing questions at her head. Four shining examples of why singlehood was the good life.

The original plan—conceived a week ago when she’d been upright, in a quiet kitchen and with a coffee in hand—had been for her and the kids to have breakfast in the RV as a kind of campout. And because Ben was supposed to have crashed with her and the kids, he would’ve been there to help.

Except he’d gone back to his place last night.

She’d agreed that was for the best.

She needed coffee. A whole plantation of it.

Which, after enlisting the kids to hunt, she discovered she’d forgotten to pack.

“You’re still in your dress, Auntie Connie,” Callie noted.

“It looks like a piece of wrinkled sky,” Bryn said. Kinda poetic for a nine-year-old.

She’d have to settle for the tea she’d made for Lindsay last night. Last night when—

She slammed the cupboard door on the tea. “Change of plan. We’re driving to my house to get me some coffee before I eat you all for breakfast.”

“We’re going to drive the RV?”

“Do we wear seat belts?”

“Can we open the windows?”

“Do you know how to drive this?”

Connie navigated the house on wheels through the quiet Sunday streets, pulling it to a stuttering stop behind a strange car parked outside the house.

Oh, right, Lindsay. Ben would’ve given Lindsay her car key after dropping Derek off. “Okay, kids,” she said, standing like a tour guide to face them. “Remember Lindsay from the RV last night? She stayed here at the house. Now, she might be up or she might be asleep. Whichever, just let her be.”

“Do we say ‘hello’?”

“Why is she at your house?”

“Is she homeless?”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Will Ariel be up?”

In answer to the last question: Connie hoped not. With the kids, Ariel was like a spooked cat. She disappeared at the first sight of them, not surfacing until all was quiet. With any luck, both Lindsay and Ariel were sleeping—or, after the kids broke loose inside, at least pretending to sleep.

Luck turned out to be manic-depressive. On the upside, there was the soul-soothing, smell of fresh coffee, which she rushed to get to in the kitchen. On the downside, in the kitchen was Ariel scowling at Lindsay for the apparent crime of making small talk.

“Connie!” Lindsay said in clear relief. At the influx of kids, Ariel hightailed it out of there.

The kitchen became a swarm of slamming cupboard doors, the fridge opening and shutting more than it had in months, the clatter of a frying pan and pots, and because Bryn insisted, the whirr of a popcorn machine, which had been left behind when the kids had lived there months ago.

Lindsay departed in the middle of it all, with a wave and a quick goodbye, deleting any chance for Connie to check in with her. Not that Connie could’ve done anything with the kids about.

It was a full hour before

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