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Remmi’s stomach tightened as she peeked into the room where she had once spent those miserable high school years. The room had been painted a soft blue, while the bed, wall posters, and awful carpet had been stripped away and replaced by new carpeting and a crib with a mobile of Disney characters mounted over it. Within the crib, sleeping soundly, was a chubby baby of about nine months. With only a bit of blond fuzz for hair, Monty lay on his back in a gray onesie that announced in bold blue letters: I love Grandma.
“He’s the best,” Jensen gushed as he ushered them back into the hallway. “Already pulling himself up. Probably will start walking soon. He’s getting ready.”
“He’s adorable,” Remmi agreed, though she never in a thousand years would have thought the surly teenager Jensen had once been would morph into a doting father. What were the chances? And yet he seemed a new person. Remmi found it nearly impossible to believe that the boy who’d belittled and made fun of her in high school and who, she was certain, had stolen the money she’d hidden behind the cupboard on the back porch, had grown into this new version of himself. But a long time had passed, and Jensen had matured somewhere along the way. Probably in large part due to Monty’s birth. Fatherhood must’ve been the making of him.
Jensen was waxing on about how great his kid was, revealing that even though he and Monty’s mom had never married, and had since split completely, they were “cool with each other.”
Back in the living room, he asked Remmi and Noah, “Can I grab you a beer or Coke? Oh, I think we only have diet—Mom’s vice of choice.”
Noah said, “I’m good.” Remmi shook her head, and Vera looked absolutely apoplectic as she sat down heavily into her favorite rocker.
“I don’t think they’re staying,” she said while her son disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an open can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Remmi said, “We won’t be long. We just have a few questions.”
“Yeah, you said so. About the book, right?” Jensen asked. “Fire away.” Again, he made waving motions suggesting they all sit down. For himself, he grabbed a dining room chair, twisted it around, and straddled it. Remmi took the hint and sat in one corner of the same couch she remembered from her high school years. Noah stood by the fireplace.
For her part, Vera looked guilty as sin. Not so her eldest son.
“So, where’s Harley?” she asked.
Vera stopped rocking. “In Alaska, working on a fishing boat.”
“He’ll probably stay up there,” Jensen added. “Loves all the huntin’ and fishin’. The big outdoors, you know. Got himself a girlfriend, and they’re talking marriage, I guess. We haven’t met her. Wonder if we ever will.”
“Of course we will. When they get married,” Vera said, giving Jensen the old stink eye, one Remmi suspected he’d received often, since her son had become a single father who had never bothered to walk down the aisle. As ever, Jensen appeared impervious to his mother.
“And Milo?” Remmi persisted.
Vera was quick to answer. “He’s not here. Working.”
“On the road,” Jensen said. “Supposed to be home in a couple of days.” He grinned through his blondish beard stubble. “Can’t wait. Dad and me’re takin’ Monty to his first monster truck rally.”
Vera sighed, long-suffering, and for once, Remmi agreed with her aunt. She couldn’t imagine a baby under a year old at an event filled with huge trucks on massive wheels with excruciatingly loud engines.
“I said I’d take care of him,” Vera reminded. “Monty doesn’t have to go with you.”
Jensen waved her off. “Forget it. You do enough.” He took a big slug from his beer, then said, “Mom watches Monty while I’m workin’ at the tow company or sometimes at night when I take a class out at the junior college.”
Jensen. Work. College. A father. It was still hard to fathom.
“Billy lives here, too, right?” Remmi asked.
Vera sat up straighter. “Billy?”
“Your brother. The uncle I’ve never met. We know he lives here.”
“Out in the garage,” Jensen said, hooking a thumb toward the back of the house. “Him and Dad built a kind of bachelor pad out there. It’s cool. Has a bitchin’ monster flat screen. Great place to chill, have a few brewskies, and watch the Niners play.”
“It’s temporary,” Vera said quickly and threw her son a dark look. “Bill’s just getting on his feet after a bad breakup and . . . financial problems.”
“He went banco,” Jensen said. “What, twice? Maybe three times?” he asked his mother.
“That woman’s fault,” Vera said defensively. “Until Bill gets back on his feet, Milo and I said he could stay here.”
“Is he working now?” Remmi asked.
Jensen answered, “Yeah. Down at Tiny’s Tackle Shop. But he got a couple days off.”
