Lost and Gowned by Melissa F. Miller

Author:Melissa F. Miller [Miller, Melissa F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940759265
Publisher: Brown Street Books
Published: 2017-06-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Rosemary

“Say, Rosie, do you know why chicken coops only have two doors?”

I kept my eyes firmly closed and sat motionless against the wall of the storage container and waited. I knew my father well enough to know my silence wasn’t going to be a deterrent to his punch line.

He gave it a moment just in case I was going to respond. When it became clear to him that I wasn’t, he said, “Because if they had four doors, they’d be chicken sedans.” He cackled softly.

I kept my face impassive, careful not to move a muscle, emit a groan, or otherwise indicate that I’d heard him. He lapsed into blessed silence for almost thirty seconds, then said, “If seagulls fly over the sea, what kind of gulls fly over the bay?”

“Oh, Bart, just leave her be. Rosemary never was easy to cajole. You’re not going to jolly her into talking to us with your lame jokes,” my mother scolded him.

“Rosemary can’t resist a good chuckle. The answer is a bagel, by the way. Bay gull, bagel; get it?”

I was feeling more like a French existentialist by the moment. Without opening my eyes, I said, “I’m not responding to your jokes because I’m sleeping.”

“You’re not asleep,” he protested.

I opened my right eye. “Let’s pretend I am anyway.” I closed it in a hurry to block out the sight of sadness crossing his face at my cold tone.

I regretted snapping at my dad pretty much instantly because my mom decided to fill the silence by peppering me with stored-up questions about my personal life. “We are all stuck here together, Rosemary. Why not be nice and tell us about your David. Where did you meet? How did you know he was the one? What does he do?”

I opened both eyes this time and ignored her questions to pose one of my own. “How do you know his name is David?” Before she could answer, I hit her with my follow-up question. “And how did you just happen to turn up at the resort this weekend?”

My parents exchanged a look. I already had a pretty good idea as to who might’ve told them, but I wanted to see if Mom and Dad would be honest with me.

My mother plucked at the hem of her khaki jacket absently while she formed her answer. “Well, honey, I stay in contact with your Aunt Ruby. Not that often, but every now and again. And I just happened to get a new burner phone a day or two after she received your invitation in the mail. So, of course, she mentioned it.”

Of course. I left aside the incongruity of my mother tossing around the phrase ‘burner phone’ as if it were ‘lemon balm’ or ‘skein of yarn’ and focused on the incompleteness of her answer. “That may have happened. But there’s no way Aunt Ruby helped you come up with this ridiculous ornithology cover story and snuck you into the resort and into one of the cottages.”

“True, true,” my father agreed.

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