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He was beginning to recognize her visual cues. When the corners of her eyes didn’t crinkle with her smile, it wasn’t genuine. And her eyes were crinkle-free.
“You’re probably exhausted,” he said, “after being up with Gabe last night.”
“He was such a good boy, today,” his mom chimed in. “He took a nice long nap after lunch. I hope that means he’ll sleep better tonight.”
“Did my guy come from Phantom today to install the new thermostat in the bedrooms?” Jarrett asked.
“Yes, he did,” Isaac answered. “He was only here about five minutes, and I didn’t see anything different when he left.”
“It’s a new sensor,” Jarrett said, “probably a year away from market.”
Thermostat was the code name Ricky had agreed to use. What he’d actually installed was a Bluetooth micro baby-monitor that could be controlled with an app on Jarrett’s phone. It could be set to only transmit above a certain decibel level, so the parent wouldn’t hear every sound a child made. But what made this monitor perfect for Gabe was the fact that the transmitter was virtually invisible, and the monitor was a tiny earbud Jarrett could wear while sleeping. Tonight, he would be certain to wake with Gabe and ensure Rylie got some well-deserved rest.
He stood by the table with his arm around Rylie as his parents left for bed. But the moment they disappeared she squirmed away from him. With a napkin she snatched from the holder, she wiped the already-spotless table.
“I’ll clean up in here while you get ready for bed.”
“Everything’s already done.” He moved closer, offering his hand. “Why don’t we both get ready for bed?”
“You go. I’ll be there when I finish.”
“We should go to sleep early. We have Gabe’s chemo appointment tomorrow.”
“Right,” she said, edging toward the other end of the table.
Was she anxious about Gabe’s appointment?
“Unless you don’t want to go. I could take him by myself.”
“No, I’m going.” She looked up long enough to frown, then returned to her futile task, folding the napkin, which had begun to fall apart from her vigorous efforts.
“You know the table’s already clean. You wiped it after dinner.”
Her hand continued to move the wadded napkin in circular motions, her jaw set. “I missed some spots.”
Experimenting, he shuffled toward her end of the table, and she moved around to the other side, as if they were opposing magnets.
“Rylie, what’s going on?”
“Nothing Jarrett. It’s just hormones.”
“Hormones?” He took a step back. With four sisters, he’d had plenty of experience with hormones. As a youngster, he’d learned to steer clear, often hiding in his room for days at a time. Later, when it was just him and his younger sister in the house, he’d found she would respond well to a bit of pampering. Perhaps that would work with Rylie. “What do you need? Can I get you a cup of hot tea? Or some ibuprofen? A hot water bag? A back massage?”
“There’s one thing you can do for me,” she said, an undeniable quiver in her voice.
Was Rylie crying? This had to be a bad hormone episode.
“What can I do?”
She looked up, her eyes glistening, and threw the shredded napkin on the table.
“Stop being so nice.”
Turning on her heel, she stomped off, her bare feet thumping the wood floor.
Unsure what his next step should be, he decided Bran, who’d been married the longest of the crew, would have the sagest advice. Fortunately, Bran answered the phone on the second ring. After a quick recap of the day’s events, Bran let out a low whistle.
“That’s a lot of stress for one day. The marriage announcement at work, going to that meeting, coming home to her in-laws, getting Gabe to bed… all while pretending she’s happily married.”
