“Coming,” Oskar called back, amused.
“Who are you?” Jesper asked. I spun around and caught Mom entering the house. Her nose wrinkled up as she looked around before heading into the lounge. Drat! I’d forgotten her.
“Jesper, find your brothers and go and play. Use the upstairs cloak,” I ordered and chased after Mom. I found her picking up a vase and checking it.
“Some of this is worth a small fortune,” she said, delicately placing it back on the mantle.
“And?”
“You shouldn’t have it out around children, even if they are visiting. Whose are they? They called you aunt, but they’re not Mimi’s or Myles’s.”
“They’re none of your concern. I didn’t invite you in, so leave.”
“Not until we’ve concluded our business.” What freaking business? Mom yanked a folder out from under her arm and sat down. “These need your signature.” She pulled several forms out.
“What?” I asked, completely confused. What was she up to?
“Just sign Jody and save us trouble,” Mom ordered.
“No, I’m not a kid. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old woman and won’t put pen to paper without knowing what it is. What are they?”
“A deed to transfer this property over to Mimi. You didn’t deserve Crook House and were left this by mistake. Shirley told me directly she meant to leave this to Mimi, but died before changing the will. You need to do the decent thing and give the estate to Mimi, as Shirley planned.”
My anger grew with every word Mom spoke. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You were going to steal my inheritance?”
“It’s not stealing.”
“It fuckin’ is if people aren’t aware of what they’re signing. God, when I think that you can’t sink any lower. Damn obvious where Mimi gets her thieving skills from.”
“Just sign, Jody, you may live here until you find somewhere else.”
“How fuckin’ generous. Let me live in my own home? Go fuck yourself.”
“Mom, is…oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest,” Laila interrupted.
“Mom?” Mom exclaimed, staring at Laila.
“What’s up, kid?” I asked.
“Could I go to town with Alice? She offered to show me this really cool shop,” Laila replied, gazing at Mom.
“Is this your daughter?” Mom gasped, standing up and placing a hand on her chest.
“Hi, I’m Laila,” Laila said, smiling.
“I have a granddaughter? You kept my grandchild from me?” Mom declared dramatically.
“Er dette vores momor?”(This is our maternal grandmother?) Laila blinked.
“Ja undskyld. Hun dukkede lige op uden en invitation,”(Yes, sorry to say, she just appeared without an invitation.) I replied.
“Helvede, mor, hun ser ud som om hun har en pind i røven.”(Hell Mom, she looks like she has a stick up her ass.)
“What are you saying? What language is that?” Mom demanded.
“Danish,” I stated.
“Why are you speaking Danish?”
