As she stepped inside, Erin’s stomach dropped. She’d forgotten Andy’s handiwork. “Mom, can you let Nancy out?” She stepped between her mother and the living room.
“Sure,” said Joyce. She headed for the kitchen.
Erin exhaled and ran to the living room, frantically pulling down poster after poster, each one with more dire revenge ideas than the last. She wrestled the pile of posters into the hall closet and slammed the door.
“Is that you, Erin? Do you need help?” called her mother.
“Just putting something away, Mom.” Erin went to the kitchen, dropped her purse on the table, and found her mother peering in the refrigerator. Again.
“This is much better. You have actual food in here. What is this?” Joyce picked up the container of leftovers.
“Just some rice and beans with greens.”
“You’ll have to give me the recipe,” said her mother, closing the refrigerator.
“Absolutely,” said Erin. “I’ll do that.” Would her mother still want the recipe if she knew its demonic origin? Best not to find out. “Oh, look, here comes Nancy Drew.” She slid open the patio door to allow the dog to enter, then gave Nancy a dog treat.
“She’ll get fat if you keep feeding her treats, Erin.”
“She’s fine, Mom,” said Erin, squatting to pat Nancy.
“What’s this?” said Joyce. She plucked out a piece of paper that was sticking out of Erin’s purse.
“Nothing.” Erin stood up quickly and attempted to grab the paper.
Joyce blocked her and deftly put on her reading glasses. “Let’s see. Candles, matchsticks.”
“Mom—”
“Hold your horses. I’m not done.” She continued reading the list. “Cinnamon sticks. Sandalwood. Garlic. Rose petals, ginger, and kosher salt. Cayenne pepper and licorice? What on earth?”
“It’s a recipe,” said Erin, who used her mother’s temporary confusion to snatch the paper back.
“A recipe for what?”
Erin thought fast. “Bath stuff.”
“With garlic and cayenne pepper?” Her mother made a face.
“I mean, some of it’s bath stuff. The rest is for cooking.”
“Right … ” Joyce looked Erin up and down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t get testy,” said her mother.
“I’m not testy,” said Erin. “I’m fine.”
Joyce snorted and walked into the living room.
Erin followed her. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Her mother sat down on the couch and draped her arm over the back. “I—” She made a funny face and shifted her arm to feel down the back of the couch. She pulled a large poster up from behind the couch where it had fallen.
Erin’s eyes widened as the poster titled “THINGS TO HIDE THAT WILL EVENTUALLY STINK” emerged.
Joyce read the poster aloud with increasing disbelief in her voice. “Tuna fish in the curtain rods, blue cheese in the couch cushions, eggs in the car, shrimp in the toilet tank, ground beef under the doormat? Erin, what is this?” She gestured at the poster.
