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“Razi?” Mama was looking at Razi with her
tell-me-the-truth-no-ifs-ands-or-buts
look.

“I didn’t give them to him … he took them!” Razi pulled his hands out from underneath his shirt and balled up his fists like he was ready for a fight.

Mama tilted her head to the side. “Now, now, we are not blaming you. We just want to know—”

“My Nilla wafers. The ones Grandma Alice gave me. I was going to break off a little piece, but I dropped one, and he reached through the bars and got it.”

Razi puffed his cheeks and let out a big blow of air, relieved he didn’t have to keep that secret anymore. “Then I dropped the other ones in his cage and he ate those, too.”

“Dropped them in by accident? Or on purpose?”

“He likes Nilla wafers!”

“Didn’t you say you lured him into the cage at the garden with grubs, Fayola?” Grandma asked.

Mama nodded.

“Aha … ohhh … ooooweee! That’s grub and Nilla wafer flatus. No wonder it smells so bad. But no permanent harm done. The fresh air will take care of it all and the Z-Team can help me bottle up Grandma’s special patented skunk stink remover for another day.”

“Awww, do we have to?” Zack whined.

“I want to fly Wen’s kite,” Zeke said.

“Where is Wen?” Keisha wondered.

“Up here!” Wen called. She had climbed halfway up the horse chestnut tree to free her beautiful kite.

“I want to climb the tree with Wen!” Razi shouted.

Mama was rubbing her temples again.

“Boys,” Grandma Alice said, putting a hand on each of the twins’ backs and directing them to the steps. “There will come a day when you realize the important wisdom that your elders carry with them. Until then, get inside and grab the funnels. We’ll bottle this stuff up, and when we’re finished, we’ll make some indoor s’mores.”

By the time Grandma’s skunk stink remover was bottled, the Z-Team had been called home to help Mrs. Sanders pot up seedlings, and Wen and Aaliyah had to go to the library for TAT (Tuesday-afternoon tutors), where they read with the little kids and helped them pronounce the big words. Grandma promised the Z-Team they could roast marshmallows over the fire pit that night, which was much better than indoor s’mores anyway.

To help Razi’s grumblies, Mama whipped up a batch of her ginger cake and threw in some bananas to roast while it baked. Daddy came home with the chicken wire and Razi ran outside to be with him. Keisha could hear them through the window as they worked to make the sides of the duckling enclosure higher.

“Can I help, Daddy?” Razi asked. “Please?”

Thwack
went the staple gun.

“Quack-quack,” the ducklings replied.

“Quack-quack-quack.” Razi imitated the ducks. “I did it just like Jorge!”

Mama, Keisha, Grandma and a still-sleepy Paulo sat
in the kitchen waiting for Mama’s ginger cake and roasted bananas to be done. Grandma was leaning back in her chair, a slice of cucumber on each eye. Grandma had been out late the night before with Big Bob. The cucumber slices were to make her eyes less puffy. Everyone knew puffy eyes were OL.

It felt warm and dozy. A stranger walking down the street would never know that the Carters and their friends had just had a close call with a skunk and freed a kite from a tree, unless they heard Razi reliving it for Daddy.

“… and then Mama said the cure was worse
than the illness and then Grandma said it was the flaparatus—”

“The what? Wait a minute. That’s my cell phone.”

Keisha perked up. Daddy hardly ever gave out his cell phone number.

As she tried to listen, Keisha noticed Grandma Alice nodding off. Keisha moved Grandma’s juice to the center of the table. Sometimes, when Grandma dozed off, she woke up with a start, caught the parasol sitting in her pomegranate juice and knocked the whole thing over.

Mama handed Paulo to Keisha and checked the oven. A whoosh of even warmer air swirled into the room. “I think it’s just about done.”

“Is Grandma sleeping?” Keisha whispered to Mama as she shifted the sweaty baby to her other knee.

“Your grandma was up late last night,” Mama said, removing the cake from the oven. “She had a date.”

“Huh?” Grandma sat up and the cucumbers fell on the table.

Even though Mama whispered, too, Grandma must have had the amplifiers in.

“It was all business,” Grandma said.

Mama tsk-tsked. “It was still late. Keisha, put the baby in his high chair.”

“I’m afraid I have bad news,” Daddy said as he
walked into the kitchen. Razi was behind him, his fingers in Daddy’s belt loops.

“I gave Mrs. Sampson my cell phone number,” he said. “That was her. I think the gray just got grayer.”

Baby Paulo squeaked and slapped his hands flat on his high chair tray, much like a baby bird. He must have smelled the roasted banana. If you waited for a roasted banana to cool, you could scoop it right from the skin.

“Don’t tell me she released the bird before you checked him.” Mama tapped the top of the cake to make sure it was done in the center.

“She didn’t let it go. In fact, she doesn’t plan to let it go.”

“Excuse me?”

“She wants to keep it for a pet.”

“Be serious,” Grandma said. “A crow?” She put two new cucumber slices on her eyes and tried to relax back in her chair again.

“A crow doesn’t make a cuddly pet,” Keisha said. “What she really needs is a puppy. A soft curly furry one that sits on her lap and licks her hand.”

“Or a kitty,” Razi said. “Kitties have little hairs on their tongue so they can clean their fur.”

“This is what happens when you explore the gray area, Fred.” Mama handed Daddy a slice of steaming ginger cake.

Daddy rubbed his bristly chin. “You’re right, Fayola. I didn’t think about the lonely part. Lonely is a powerful feeling.”

“Well, I’ll tell you who’s going to be lonely, and that’s the crow. Those two need to stick to their own kind.” Grandma took a cucumber slice off her eye and bit into it. “Is that clock right? Two p.m. already? I’ve got to get going. Bob’s picking me up in the Bonneville and we’re going out to Crane’s Pie Pantry. I am so hungry for rhubarb-apple pie, I’ve been dreaming about it lately.”

“Knock, knock. Just taking my afternoon break and I thought I smelled …” Mr. Sanders peeked around the door before letting himself in. “Ah yes! Ginger cake.”

“Please come in, Mr. Sanders,” Mama said. She sliced a big piece of cake and set it on a plate.

“Doug, can I ask you something? Have you been able to deliver mail to Mrs. Sampson’s mailbox yet?” Daddy handed Mr. Sanders a fork and a napkin.

“Goodness, heavens no.” Mr. Sanders took a big bite of cake. He mmm’ed and swallowed. “I can’t get near the thing. I give it to her neighbor, Mrs. Hogue, which isn’t strictly legal, but it solves the problem for a short time.”

“I bet you call that the gray area,” Grandma said. “It’s not legal, but it makes sense for a short time. Hmmmph.” She took another bite of cucumber.

“Well, we are trying to do our job, Mrs. Carter, and there are certain instances—”

“My son here has gotten lost in the gray area because Mrs. Sampson wants to keep her crow as a pet.”

“And so the adult crows will never know it’s back out in the big wide world?” Mr. Sanders had been ready to take another big bite of cake, but he set it back on his plate. “Oh dear. That would be a problem.”

“Let go and sit down, bucko,” Daddy said to Razi. “I want to eat my cake, too.” Razi unhitched himself from Daddy’s belt loops and pulled up a chair.

Daddy took a bite. “Mmm. Razi, you need to try this batch. Oh, it’s so good. What time do you get finished today, Doug? Would you be willing to go with us to try to convince Mrs. Sampson that keeping the crow is not a good idea?”

Another piece of cake traveled up to Mr. Sanders’s mouth and back down to his plate. Keisha noticed that
his duties to the United States Postal Service came even before his love for Mama’s cooking.

“I will. This really has to end,” he said. “There’s nothing in our rule book about crows, but if birds fall under the ruling of nuisance animals, they have to be eliminated.”

“What a shame,” Mama said. “Those crows are only trying to protect the baby they think is still inside. Will you take a piece for the boys, Mr. Sanders?”

“If you could wrap it up, I know they would be most grateful for the home cooking, Mrs. Carter.”

“Of course.” Mama wrapped a slice of cake in an old dishcloth that Keisha knew he would return clean in the next day or two.

Mr. Sanders said good-bye and hurried off to finish delivering his mail.

“Alice, please have a piece,” Mama said, cutting another one. “You look bony to me.”

“I’m not bony. I’m svelte, Fayola. And I’m waiting for the pie. I told you. I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“Been dreaming about pie, Mom? Or is it Bob you’ve been dreaming about?” Daddy asked.

“Very funny, mister. That’s enough of that.”

“Oh my goodness.” Keisha sat up straight. “In all the skunk excitement, I almost forgot. You were going to give me an update on the puppy!”

“Keisha Carter, you’ve got puppies on the brain.” Grandma tossed the rest of the cucumbers in the compost bucket and downed her pomegranate juice. “Didn’t you see her gray beard? That dog is no puppy. I’d say she’s seven at least. That’s about fifty in dog years.”

Mama handed Keisha a spoon and a dish of roasted banana for the baby. Keisha scooped up a spoonful and let it steam, waiting until it cooled enough to put in Paulo’s mouth. She decided to ignore Grandma’s comment.

“Grandma knows more than I do,” Mama said. “Grandma?”

“Well, if you must know, that’s what Bob and I were doing last night. Dr. Wendy had to put a cast on her leg. She’s concerned about the tendon damage. And the mats in her fur! We watched a Marx Brothers and a Charlie Chaplin movie just combing out the burs. Mats and bad breath are very OD.”

“OD?” Mama asked.

“Old dog,” Grandma said. “We got her a new collar to snazzy her up a bit.”

“Did the doggy bite you?” If the dog bit Grandma, then Keisha knew it was a deal breaker for her little brother.

“No, she’s got the sweetest temper after what she’s been through, poor thing. They might have to
amputate her leg, and who’s going to want a seven-year-old three-legged dog with bad teeth?”

Keisha had to sit on her hands while Grandma described how good the pale blue collar looked against the dog’s curly, cocoa-colored fur.

“Bob even drew a little message on her cast that said, ‘To know me is to love me.’ It’s all in the presentation.” Grandma glanced at the clock again. “Speaking of presentation, I’ve got to get some lipstick on!”

Keisha broke off a tiny piece of ginger cake and let it dissolve on her tongue. It was cool enough, so she broke off a piece for Paulo and put it on his tray.

Grandma rummaged through her purse for her lipstick and her compact.

“That’s a new color,” Keisha said, watching Grandma put the lipstick on.

“Gypsy Love,” Grandma said. “Maureen at the beauty counter at Perkins Drugstore said it was perfect for my skin tone. Bob’s taking me out for ice cream after we have pie. Hudsonville has much better ice cream than Crane’s.”

“Hmmmph.” Razi started to pout. “You can’t do pie before and ice cream after! That’s two desserts in one day. That’s not allowed. Mama, I want to do pie before and ice cream after. Can I, Mama? Just once? Pretty please?”

“You might get something in a take-home box,” Grandma said, stretching her lips wide and using her fingernail to scrape off everything that was outside the lines. “It depends if I can remember how many times you kicked me in church last Sunday.”

Razi was still sitting in the kitchen chair, but he made his legs and arms rigid. He stayed frozen that way for a few seconds. Paulo banged his tray, making the ginger cake bounce. Keisha poked the spoonful of roasted banana into his mouth.

“Bzzzzrrrrr. Bzzzzrrrr,” Paulo said, letting roasted banana drip down his chin. He smiled at Keisha with the most angelic smile and flicked his curly eyelashes at her, opening his big brown eyes wide.

“Razi, unstick yourself and go get my pink sweater off the line, please.” Grandma smacked her lips and held the compact away from her face so she could see the whole picture.