Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell) (10 page)

“Kiss. Now.” Adella pulled his face to hers and kissed him loudly on the lips, their green halos and springy curls briefly mingling.

He hugged her tight, grunting with the effort. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

A funny feeling fluttered inside my chest. And as if she sensed this, Jupe’s black lab, Foxglove, trotted around the corner and jumped up on my legs, panting in my face happily as she greeted me. I scratched her behind one floppy ear and peeped around the corner, watching Lon strolling over to his ex-mother-in-law.

“I told you not to bring a shitload of sugar in this house, Rose.”

“And I told you to stop swearing in front of my precious grandbaby, so I guess it all equals out.”

Cropped, silver-white hair fanned around Rose Giovanni’s slim face. The woman may have been in her sixties, but she was stunning. It was easy to see where Yvonne got her supermodel looks.

She wore stylish glasses and was dressed in a pale green pantsuit that matched her halo. Adella’s halo. Jupe’s halo. And even from across the room, I could see Jupe’s green eyes beneath her glasses—which were even more startling paired with her darker skin. I always assumed Jupe inherited Lon’s eyes, just a lighter shade, but now I wasn’t so sure. Lon once told me that Rose’s parents were from the Caribbean. Puzzle pieces fitted into place.

Lon dipped his head and kissed Rose on the check. She wound an arm around him and rubbed his back. “Not mad we came early, are you?”

“Are you joking?” Jupe answered for him. “It’s an awesome surprise, Gramma. Winter break starts tomorrow, so I’m all yours. And now we have three days before Christmas Eve, and there’s all kinds of junk we can do.”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything? I’ll make a list. And the number one thing will be for me to demonstrate my persuasion knack for you.” Jupe squinted one eye shut and wiggled his fingers dramatically, like he was a stage magician using fake mind powers.

“Absolutely not,” Lon said.

“But they’ve only heard about it. I want to show them.”

“No, you want to show
off
,” Adella said. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Listen to your auntie.” Lon smiled at Adella and reached to hug her, arms loosely encircling her. She mumbled something against his ear; he kissed her on the forehead in response. They were casual and comfortable around each other. Affectionate. I never saw Lon act that way with anyone but me and Jupe. Never. It made me wonder how Lon and Yvonne acted when they were together. And that thought made me a little nauseous.

“Wait, where’s—” Jupe’s gaze found mine before I could sneak upstairs. “Cady! Com’ere, com’ere!”

All faces looked my way. My stomach dropped three stories. Nothing I could do now.

Jupe strode to my side and tugged me into the middle of everything. My hair was sweaty around my nape. My jacket had dirty streaks on the sleeve from rolling around on the ground at the racetrack. And my eyes were red and puffy from crying. I’m sure I made a great first impression.

“Everybody, this . . . is Cady.”

Jupe said my name like it was fifty feet high and studded in lights, but the reception was decidedly mixed. Rose stared at me without saying a word. Adella stepped forward and offered her hand. “So good to finally meet you.” She sandwiched my hand between both of hers and gave me a sweet smile.

“You, too,” I said. “Jupe talks about you—”

“Constantly?” she guessed. “Because I get weekly updates about you. ‘Cady this. Cady that.’ ”

Jupe almost looked embarrassed, but he really didn’t have it in him to be shy. “You told me I talk about movies too much, so what else am I going to say? Geez.”

She winked at him. “Anything you tell me, I’m happy to hear. Besides, I talk about art all the time.”

I remembered that Adella taught art history at the University of Portland. “Is the semester done? All your classes, I mean.”

“Yes, thank goodness. Finals graded, and all my meetings finished. The students fled the campus yesterday like they were outrunning a tornado.”

At thirty-five, Adella was ten years older than me, and a handful of years younger than her sister, Yvonne (who was in her early forties, like Lon). She had a kind face. In other circumstances, I would’ve liked her immediately. And I did, but it was tainted with self-doubt and worry that she wouldn’t accept me, despite how nice she was being. Looking at her mother, that worrisome feeling intensified.

“And this is my Gramma,” Jupe said proudly.

Rose Giovanni didn’t offer her hand. Just coolly looked me over, eyes blinking rapidly. For every inch of my body she examined, I think I shrank two. She might be the demon, but I certainly felt like the devil in the room.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, wondering if I should add “ma’am.” Or would that be insulting? Better play it safe and keep my mouth shut.

She stared above my head. “There’s that silver halo we’ve heard about.”

“Yes.”

“A real live witch, huh?”

“Magician,” I corrected.

She made a little I’m-not-impressed noise, then glanced at the dirt streaks on my sleeve.

I looked down at them as well. “It’s . . . been a bad night.”

“Oh?” She pushed metal-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with one polished nail, then turned to Lon and lifted a brow. “What happened?”

Great. She’d officially cut me out of the conversation.

“Cady’s bar got robbed earlier this week,” Lon said.

“Oh dear,” she said. “A dangerous business, I’m sure. Open all night, attracting the wrong element. Like owning a liquor store.”

A mild spark of irritation pushed away my initial self-consciousness. “We’re open until two, and we’ve never been robbed before.”

“Tambuku is the most awesome bar in Morella, Gramma,” Jupe said.

“I’d love to see it,” Adella said. “I teach a class on Polynesian art every summer.”

I didn’t think our Tahiti Tropicana pinball machine was going to impress her, but at least she was being nice. I started to answer her, but Rose cut me off. “There’s nothing ‘awesome’ about a bar, Jupiter. Drinking leads to misery.”

Somewhere behind me Lon mumbled, “Christ, I think
I
need a drink right now.”

“It’s not like that,” Jupe protested. “Right Cady?”

“Bartending isn’t a respectable profession,” Rose said.

I’d never felt ashamed about what I did for a living, and I wasn’t about to start now. If this woman was trying to take me down a few notches, she’d have to try a little harder. “I’m a good bartender. I police my bar and stay aware of how much I’m serving people. When a patron’s crossed the line, I cut them off and call a cab.”

“But you still serve them, don’t you? And just because they get in a cab doesn’t mean they don’t go somewhere else and do stupid things. No good comes from drink.”

I suddenly realized what she was getting at. Yvonne’s stints in rehab—her public struggle with drugs and alcohol. Car accidents and gambling debts, all of it fueling tabloid headlines back when she was still working as a model. I didn’t know if she’d sobered up recently; Lon and Jupe didn’t talk about her. And the media had lost interest in an aging supermodel that hadn’t worked for years.

The Giovanni family had disowned Yvonne. Rose had bonded with Lon over Jupe and chosen them over her own daughter. I knew this was a sensitive subject. I didn’t want to upset Jupe, but I didn’t want to back down, either.

I straightened and locked gazes with her. “I can make a good guess as to why you feel that way, but don’t make the mistake of confusing me with your daughter.”

She flinched in surprise before staring me down like she could will me to burst into flames. The room was uncomfortably quiet for several beats.

“Now, if you’ll please excuse me,” I finally said, “I need to wash up.”

I turned to head upstairs. Lon tried to follow, but I put a firm hand on his arm to tell him no. And as I climbed the first few stairs, I heard Rose say behind me, as if nothing had just happened, “Who wants oatmeal blackberry bars?”

•  •  •

The evening got better. An unexpected introduction to Mr. Piggy helped liven things up. Who could resist a pygmy hedgehog that could climb up the Christmas tree and leap onto your shoulder when you least expected, like some kind of little psychotic, quilled monkey?

I avoided speaking to Rose directly, except to say “thank you” and “excuse me” and “sorry my pet hedgehog jumped on your shoulder.” And she avoided speaking to me as well, but wasn’t antagonistic. After the hedgehog incident, Lon put on music, a Stax Records compilation he sometimes played on Waffle Day, otherwise known as Sunday outside the Butler household. It was hard to be upset while listening to Issac Hayes and Otis Redding. He knew this; he’d played it on purpose. And when Jupe and Adella began telling a long story about the origin of a handmade Christmas ornament on the tree—a clay disk that on first glance was Jupe’s handprint, but on second, was actually the impression of Foxglove’s foot—Lon slid beside me on the couch and pulled me close, almost into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rose darting the occasional glance our way, but she made no comment.

Adella and Jupe finished their story. They both made big, sweeping hand movements when they talked. What else had he inherited from his mother’s side? It was as if the mysteries of his dynamic personality were being revealed, layer by layer.

And, dammit, I really liked Adella. She was smart and witty, and she snorted when she laughed, just like Jupe. I tried so hard not to be jealous when Jupe begged her to come up to his room and watch late-night TV. But, you know, that was
my
job.
I
got to turn off the TV when Jupe fell asleep on my arm.

Dear God, what a pity party I was having. I wanted to slap myself. Instead, I excused myself and ate another blackberry bar in the kitchen. As I was licking the last sticky crumb off my finger, Rose walked through the doorway. Alone.

“I’d have made more if I knew they’d go so fast,” she said, staring down the nearly empty plastic-wrapped pan.

They were pretty freaking divine, though I wasn’t about to tell her that. And I wasn’t sure if she was trying to tell me to keep my grimy hands off her baked goods, or if she was acknowledging that she was pleased I liked them. Maybe she somehow knew this was my third one, even though I’d tried to be stealthy.

I really didn’t know her intentions at all, so I just didn’t say anything.

She’d taken her jacket off and was walking around in her stocking feet. She had firm, slender arms and incredible legs, which wasn’t fair. She was in her sixties. Her legs should be . . . well, I don’t know, but they shouldn’t look like that. Mine didn’t. I was sort of relieved when she put the blackberry bars in the fridge and moved her too-good legs out of my sight, standing behind the curved kitchen island as I washed my hands in the sink.

“I don’t believe in couples living together outside the bonds of marriage.”

My hand slipped on the soap pump. A streak of green gel sprayed against the white subway tile behind Lon’s sink. “Is there somewhere you’re going with this?” I said as I aggressively lathered my hands. “Or is that just a general comment?”

“Lon told me it was none of my business when I asked if you were living here, which is probably true. But Adella told me that Jupe said you rent a house in Morella.”

“I
own
a house in Morella,” I corrected.

“Well, regardless of whatever arrangement you and Lon normally have, I’d like you to stay at your own house while I’m visiting.”

I slammed the faucet handle off and spun around halfway, flinging droplets of water into the sink. “Let me get this straight. Are you telling me—”

She held up both hands. “It’s not a demand, but a request. I don’t like Jupiter thinking that couples living together without strings is okay. And if I consent to stay here while you’re living in sin with Lon, then that sends a signal to Jupiter than I approve of this. And I don’t. I’d like you to respect that.”

“Well, I think that’s pretty ballsy of you to ask.”

She took off her glasses and wiped them on the corner of her striped, sleeveless shirt. “No one’s ever accused me of being timid about speaking my mind.” Without looking at me, she fit her glasses back in place. “Regardless, it’s either you or me. If you stay, I’ll go to a hotel in town. But I’d appreciate it if you decide soon, because it’s half-past nine. That may not mean much to someone who works the graveyard shift at a bar, but I’ve spent the afternoon standing in security lines at the airport. I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed. And I’d also like for Christmas to be a happy time. His mother ruined one too many holidays for all of us. I hope you don’t do the same.”

And as I stood there with my mouth hanging open, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Dear God, that was some nerve she had.

First, it was none of her damn business what arrangement Lon and I had. And what did she think my leaving would accomplish? If I left for a few days like she wanted me to, I’d just be back when she went home after Christmas, shoving my wanton ways in her grandkid’s impressionable face. It made no sense. I wasn’t leaving. Forget it. Decision made. I had other things to worry about than her moral compass. Like stupid punks with impossible knacks and whether my serial killer mother was trying to make my life miserable again.