only asked about the money once: last week when I offered for you to come out here to see what Libby and I have done.”
“Shacked up in an uninhabitable hovel?” Andrea asked. “That hardly takes genius.”
While they were busy glaring at each other, Libby quietly pulled the cup out from behind her back and tipped it toward the floor.
“No,” Fabritus said, “we’ve changed the uninhabitable vortex neighborhood into a comfortable, if occasionally adventurous, living space.”
“There is nothing adventurous about swamp grass in your living room and a herd of giraffe appearing in your den,” she said. “That’s just unsanitary.”
“There have been no manifestation of giraffe,” he said. “It’s quantum reality overlay. We have parameters set on the gyro. Overlays can not cause physical harm.”
Just then the alarm clock winked back into existence, falling through the living room ceiling hard and fast. It dropped like a clanging rocket, aimed straight at Libby’s head.
Oh, crap.
Libby threw her free hand up to block her face. The alarm struck her wrist, knocked the cup out of her hand, and spilled fine brown Normal all over her mother-in-law.
“Ouch!” Libby shook her wrist and bit her lip so she didn’t say any other less appropriate four-letter words.
Andrea shrieked and shuddered as if she’d just been hosed down by offal instead of a little dust, then began sneezing uncontrollably.
Fabritus was on his feet, but didn’t seem to know which woman to console.
Libby pointed at his mother with her good hand. But to her surprise, he took a step toward her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“You threw dirt at my mother.”
“It isn’t dirt, it’s Normal. The salesman —”
“Salesman? Here?”
“— knocked on the front door. He said this, this Normal would fix everything it touched.”
“You believed him?”
“I thought it was worth a try.”
As one, they turned and looked at Andrea. She didn’t appear any different, although the wine stain on the couch arm was gone and the painting on the wall behind her had swung level with the ceiling line.
“Amazing,” Fabritus breathed. “What’s in that stuff?”
“I have no idea. But I do have his card.”
“Good thinking.”
Andrea pointed her finger at Libby. “Look at me! Look at what you did to me, you stupid, clumsy waste.”
Apparently, this was Andrea’s normal. Terrific.
Here it goes, Libby thought. All our dreams undone.
“I don’t know what kind of charade you are trying to pull here, Fabritus,” Andrea shouted, “but I do not approve of this house, then venture, or that — that excuse of a wife. You will get no money from me.”
“Mother,” Fabritus said.
“Don’t ‘mother’ me.” She tried to dust off her jacket but only ground the dirt deeper into the fabric. “You are too good for her. You have always been too good for her. She is so beneath you.”
And there it was: the truth. Libby had wondered when his mother would finally tell him what she had been telling her for the last year. That Libby wasn’t good enough, smart enough, rich enough for her son.
“Mother.” Fabritus was so quiet, even Libby looked over at him. “I thought bringing you here to see the amazing home Libby and I have built together would change your mind, but I see I was wrong. Let me make one thing clear — that isn’t your money, it’s mine. Left to me by my father. If you refuse to work with us, then I will bring our lawyers into this.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And they will follow his requests down to every last word.”
Libby had never read his father’s will, but from the look on Fabritus’s face, following his every last word wasn’t going to go in Andrea’s favor.
“I can’t believe you would be so stubborn and cross about this stupid . . . notion of yours.”
“Revolutionary ideas almost always begin as stupid notions.”
Libby grinned. Gary Gooding had said something like
“Shacked up in an uninhabitable hovel?” Andrea asked. “That hardly takes genius.”
While they were busy glaring at each other, Libby quietly pulled the cup out from behind her back and tipped it toward the floor.
“No,” Fabritus said, “we’ve changed the uninhabitable vortex neighborhood into a comfortable, if occasionally adventurous, living space.”
“There is nothing adventurous about swamp grass in your living room and a herd of giraffe appearing in your den,” she said. “That’s just unsanitary.”
“There have been no manifestation of giraffe,” he said. “It’s quantum reality overlay. We have parameters set on the gyro. Overlays can not cause physical harm.”
Just then the alarm clock winked back into existence, falling through the living room ceiling hard and fast. It dropped like a clanging rocket, aimed straight at Libby’s head.
Oh, crap.
Libby threw her free hand up to block her face. The alarm struck her wrist, knocked the cup out of her hand, and spilled fine brown Normal all over her mother-in-law.
“Ouch!” Libby shook her wrist and bit her lip so she didn’t say any other less appropriate four-letter words.
Andrea shrieked and shuddered as if she’d just been hosed down by offal instead of a little dust, then began sneezing uncontrollably.
Fabritus was on his feet, but didn’t seem to know which woman to console.
Libby pointed at his mother with her good hand. But to her surprise, he took a step toward her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“You threw dirt at my mother.”
“It isn’t dirt, it’s Normal. The salesman —”
“Salesman? Here?”
“— knocked on the front door. He said this, this Normal would fix everything it touched.”
“You believed him?”
“I thought it was worth a try.”
As one, they turned and looked at Andrea. She didn’t appear any different, although the wine stain on the couch arm was gone and the painting on the wall behind her had swung level with the ceiling line.
“Amazing,” Fabritus breathed. “What’s in that stuff?”
“I have no idea. But I do have his card.”
“Good thinking.”
Andrea pointed her finger at Libby. “Look at me! Look at what you did to me, you stupid, clumsy waste.”
Apparently, this was Andrea’s normal. Terrific.
Here it goes, Libby thought. All our dreams undone.
“I don’t know what kind of charade you are trying to pull here, Fabritus,” Andrea shouted, “but I do not approve of this house, then venture, or that — that excuse of a wife. You will get no money from me.”
“Mother,” Fabritus said.
“Don’t ‘mother’ me.” She tried to dust off her jacket but only ground the dirt deeper into the fabric. “You are too good for her. You have always been too good for her. She is so beneath you.”
And there it was: the truth. Libby had wondered when his mother would finally tell him what she had been telling her for the last year. That Libby wasn’t good enough, smart enough, rich enough for her son.
“Mother.” Fabritus was so quiet, even Libby looked over at him. “I thought bringing you here to see the amazing home Libby and I have built together would change your mind, but I see I was wrong. Let me make one thing clear — that isn’t your money, it’s mine. Left to me by my father. If you refuse to work with us, then I will bring our lawyers into this.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And they will follow his requests down to every last word.”
Libby had never read his father’s will, but from the look on Fabritus’s face, following his every last word wasn’t going to go in Andrea’s favor.
“I can’t believe you would be so stubborn and cross about this stupid . . . notion of yours.”
“Revolutionary ideas almost always begin as stupid notions.”
Libby grinned. Gary Gooding had said something like
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