I’m wrapping a juice glass in newspaper. Boxes, empty and full, cover the kitchen floor. I give Harry a long look.“Hi Millie. Who’s our guest?”I say, doing my best Harry impression with exaggerated politeness.
My brother gives Luc a sidelong glance, but he does it wearing an abashed grin. “Hi Millie,” he drones, his deepening voice sounding nothing like my impersonation. “Who’s our guest?”
With a hand covered in newsprint, I gesture to the man who has been helping me for the last three hours. “This is Luc Valencia. He’s our contractor.”
Luc steps forward, hand extended. “How’s it going?”
“Nice to meet you.” Harry shakes his hand, looking at him more closely. “Valencia?” he asks with emphasis.
Luc’s smile is easy, and even though I’m ready for The Dimples, they still hit me like an electric charge.
“Yeah, my brother Alex is on your soccer team.”
Harry’s eyes go wide. “No way! Alex is your brother? Man, he’s abeast!”
Luc chuckles. “Thanks, but he’s not the only one. I’ve been to a few of your games,” he says, looking impressed. “Starting goalie? You’ve got skills.”
The sight of my little brother puffing with pride has me riveted. Did he just grow taller right before my eyes?
“Oh… thanks,” he mumbles, but he looks ridiculously pleased. He clears his throat and glances back at me. “So, is there any food?”
“You didn’t eat at Connor’s house?”
My guess is Harry is going to be a defense attorney one day. He looks at me doubtfully. “I didn’t say that.”
I roll my eyes. “What did Mrs. Owens serve?”
“Meatloaf… with mashed potatoes and peas,” he says. “I had seconds.”
“Well, no wonder you’re still hungry,” I tease, but I was prepared for this scenario. “Pizza’s in the oven.”
“Thank God,” he mutters and steps over the three packed boxes that block his path as if they are just cracks in the sidewalk. The oven door gives a squeaky groan as he wrenches it open, revealing the two pizza boxes. “Yeah, Papa John’s. What kinds are they?”
“One’s Garden Fresh and one’s Ultimate Pepperoni.” He removes each and sets them on the stovetop. I brace for the complaints I know are coming, but I pinch a sheet of newspaper and grab the next glass, determined to keep working.
“Of course there’s like a thousand slices of veggie left and only two with actual meat,” he grouses.
“You were at Connor’s,” I remind him tiredly.
He reaches up and opens a cabinet, only to find it empty. Harry looks back at me, clearly perplexed. “Um, no plates?”
I wave a hand to indicate the boxes crowding the kitchen floor.
“I’ll just eat over the box,” he says, transferring two of the unpopular Garden Fresh slices to the near empty box of pepperoni. “I have two more chapters ofLes Misto read for tomorrow. I’m gonna take this upstairs.” He high steps over the boxes, moving toward the door.
“Please don’t leave that box in your room overnight,” I beg. “It’ll attract vermin.”
Clarence has been stretched out on the floor, keeping watch since Luc and I have been working, but when he sees Harry leaving with food, he scrambles to his feet to follow.
“Clarence will catch any vermin,” Harry says, grinning.
“Please, Harry. Please bring the box down.” I’m still trying for politeness, but I hear the edge in my voice. I’m his sister. I’m his guardian. But I’m not Mom or Dad. What can I really do if he doesn’t listen to me? I have to pick my battles, and if we start butting heads now, what’ll it be like when he’s sixteen and driving?
Harry’s eyes roll skyward. “Fine,” he drones. “I’ll bring it down.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
My brother grumbles something under his breath, but then proves he still has some manners when he turns to Luc on his way out. “Nice meeting you.” Harry leaves with Clarence at his heels, the dog’s black nose tipped up in the air, following the alluring scent of pizza.
