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An indignant meow sounded from inside the carrier still clutched in my hand, and I cleared my throat. “Is it all right for me to let Freya out? She’s had a long car ride.”
Rhi cocked her head. “Freya?”
“My cat.”
“Oh, of course! Is this… this must be the kitten that…” Rhi looked up at my mother, who nodded mutely. Rhi approached the carrier and bent down to peer inside.
“Hello, my lovely. And have you been a good little companion to our friend here? Have you been looking out for your charge? I’m sure you have, good kitty,” she whispered, poking a finger through the bars to scratch Freya between the ears. Freya closed her eyes lazily and began to purr.
“Do you think she’ll be all right, with all the plants?” I asked. My mother always insisted she couldn’t keep a plastic succulent alive, and so we’d never had a single plant in the house; but I knew that lots of plants could be poisonous to cats.
“Oh, yes, my dear, just let her out to explore. We have a cat, Diana, and she’s never had any trouble with the plants.”
“Diana?!” My mother laughed as she sank down onto the loveseat. “There is no possible way that cat is still alive.”
“Well, granted I haven’t seen her yet this morning, but she was certainly alive last night when she chased that old gray tom out of the garden. You should have heard him yowl. She was quite pleased with herself when she came in,” Rhi said absently, releasing the catch on Freya’s carrier and pulling my cat up into her arms. She gave her an affectionate squeeze, kissing her between the ears before setting her down gently on the floor. Freya wound once around her legs before stretching luxuriously and then vanishing behind the drapes, tail twitching like an antenna as she began her explorations.
“Now, I’ll get some tea started,” Rhi said, brushing the cat hair from her hands. “Herbal all right? I make my own blends, you know.”
My mother gave Rhi a pointed look, and Rhi rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s just tea, I promise,” she said, sounding somewhat exasperated.
I looked back and forth between the two of them, but no one seemed inclined to explain the odd exchange, so I cleared my throat. “Could I use the bathroom?”
“Upstairs, second door on the left, honey,” Rhi said, pointing to the staircase.
I mumbled my thanks and turned for the stairs. My mother jumped to her feet, an anxious look on her face.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she blurted out.
I raised an eyebrow. “To the bathroom?” I asked.
“I, uh… can show you where it is,” she stammered.
I stared at her. “Second door on the left, Mom. I can handle it. I promise.”
She continued to stand there, fists clenched, staring at me as I ascended the stairs. I shook my head. I’d never seen my mother like this. Like most nurses I knew, she was never one to make a fuss. She had always been a ‘get up and dust yourself off, you’re okay’ kind of mom, and I’d learned how to take care of myself because of it. So the fact that she was now hovering over me, offering to escort me to the bathroom at the top of the stairs was… unsettling.
The stairs creaked and groaned comfortably as I ascended, staring at still more framed paintings and photographs crowded onto the wall along the staircase. Right at the top of the stairs, I paused in front of one photograph that caught my eye. From it, three little girls with gangly limbs and gap-toothed smiles grinned out at me, their arms thrown around each other and caught by the camera flash in mid-laugh. They were wearing an assortment of too-big clothes and wide brimmed hats, like they’d been raiding their mother’s closet. I leaned forward to peer closer. The photo was a bit blurry and faded, but I could tell that the girl on the left was my mother. I had never seen such joy on her face, and it brought a lump to my throat.
“Happier days.”
I whirled in alarm to see the woman who had slammed the door in our faces upon our arrival, standing just a few feet away from me in the threshold of the first doorway at the top of the stairs.
“What are you doing up here?” she demanded in an accusatory tone.
“I… I was just coming up to use the bathroom. Aunt Rhi said it was upstairs.”
“Oh.” A bit of the fight seemed to go out of the woman’s posture as she slumped against the door frame. “I thought perhaps… well, never mind, I suppose. I’m your Aunt Persephone,” she added, her tone implying that the moniker “aunt” was a dubious one at best.
“I… it’s nice to… I’m Wren,” I managed to stammer out.
“I know,” Persephone said, smirking. “And…” she sighed almost grudgingly. “Look, I’m sorry about the door, earlier. That wasn’t really meant for you.”
I had no idea how to answer that, so I just shifted my weight awkwardly and changed the subject. “I’m… I’m really sorry about Aster—um, about your mother.”
Persephone sucked in her cheeks. “Well, I’m glad to hear thatsomeoneis. I rather expected Kerri to throw a party.”
I scowled at her. “My mom was really upset when she got the news.”
