of the Vikings’ victims. Nailed to a door, I should warn you.”
“Oh,” said Miranda, startled. He’d seemed almost anxious to be rid of her, but now he wanted to meet up again. The thought of seeing him again made her nervous, but in a good way. At least, she thought it was in a good way. “Sure. Okay. Monk Bar at six. I’ll see you there.”
Nick looked down at her. A half smile flitted across his face.
“I’ll see you first,” he said, and headed off into the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
E veryone seemed on edge at breakfast. Rob crunched his way through two bowls of cereal, staring glumly into space.
“Thanks for leaving, like, a drop of milk for everyone else,” Miranda complained, sitting down next to him. He ignored her.
“Rob, you look tired,” their mother said. She stood over the table, sorting through a sheaf of music, pursing her lips and frowning at the score. Today was the first rehearsal with the singers, Miranda knew, which was why her mother was so agitated. “I hope you’re not going to be working at the White Boar again tonight.”
“It’s not
working,”
Rob spluttered. “I’m just helping Sally’s parents out. All their staff took off. They’re really shorthanded.”
“Surely Sally’s father can find …” their father began, shaking the cereal box. “This is empty already?”
“They can’t find anyone,” snapped Rob. “It’s a really busy time, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Peggy gave him a look. “Don’t speak to your father like that, please.”
“Rob’s just, you know … carrying barrels for them and stuff,” Miranda said. “And clearing glasses and cups …”
“Stay out of this,” said her father and Rob simultaneously. Miranda couldn’t believe it: She was actually trying to back Rob up, and he was turning on her. She banged her spoon in the bowl.
“And there’s no need for that,” said her mother sharply.
“Could everyone just CHILLAX!” Jeff brought the cereal box down onto the table, but it didn’t make much of a noise. He looked disappointed with the lack of dramatic effect.
“Dad, nobody says ‘chillax’ anymore,” Miranda told him, picking up her spoon again.
“Nobody ever said it,” added Rob.
“Please, could you all stop talking.” Peggy shuffled all her pages together. “You two, if you’re going to drop in to the rehearsal today, come by around eleven and don’t make any noise. I’ll be home tonight by six at the latest. I thought we could have an early dinner at that Indian restaurant around the corner.”
“I’ll still be out then,” their father said, folding the newspaper so only the crossword was visible. “Drinks thing with the Richard III Museum people, remember?”
“I’ll be out then, too,” said Rob.
“So will I,” said Miranda quickly.
“Where are
you
going?” Rob muttered, pointing at her with his spoon. Milk dribbled from the side of his mouth. Miranda hoped he acted more civilized in front of Sally.
“None of your business,” she whispered.
“Could everyone please be home no later than six thirty,” said Peggy, sliding papers into her portfolio. It was a statement rather than a question.
“Seven,” said Miranda. It meant she wouldn’t have much time with Nick, but anything was better than nothing. She wanted to see the Viking ghost. She wanted to see Nick.
“Ten,” said Rob. He was pushing it, Miranda thought.
“I could possibly make it.” Jeff sounded uncertain, but then he seemed to notice Peggy’s look of exasperation and disbelief. “Of course, darling — six thirty. No problem. You two! Home by six thirty. You can run wild other nights. Your mother and I have the medievalists’ banquet tomorrow night, which, by the way, you’re very welcome to attend.”
“No, thanks,” said Miranda. She’d been tricked into one of these medievalist shindigs before, in some conference-center ballroom in Chicago. Dry chicken, boring conversation, old people dancing. It was
“Oh,” said Miranda, startled. He’d seemed almost anxious to be rid of her, but now he wanted to meet up again. The thought of seeing him again made her nervous, but in a good way. At least, she thought it was in a good way. “Sure. Okay. Monk Bar at six. I’ll see you there.”
Nick looked down at her. A half smile flitted across his face.
“I’ll see you first,” he said, and headed off into the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
E veryone seemed on edge at breakfast. Rob crunched his way through two bowls of cereal, staring glumly into space.
“Thanks for leaving, like, a drop of milk for everyone else,” Miranda complained, sitting down next to him. He ignored her.
“Rob, you look tired,” their mother said. She stood over the table, sorting through a sheaf of music, pursing her lips and frowning at the score. Today was the first rehearsal with the singers, Miranda knew, which was why her mother was so agitated. “I hope you’re not going to be working at the White Boar again tonight.”
“It’s not
working,”
Rob spluttered. “I’m just helping Sally’s parents out. All their staff took off. They’re really shorthanded.”
“Surely Sally’s father can find …” their father began, shaking the cereal box. “This is empty already?”
“They can’t find anyone,” snapped Rob. “It’s a really busy time, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Peggy gave him a look. “Don’t speak to your father like that, please.”
“Rob’s just, you know … carrying barrels for them and stuff,” Miranda said. “And clearing glasses and cups …”
“Stay out of this,” said her father and Rob simultaneously. Miranda couldn’t believe it: She was actually trying to back Rob up, and he was turning on her. She banged her spoon in the bowl.
“And there’s no need for that,” said her mother sharply.
“Could everyone just CHILLAX!” Jeff brought the cereal box down onto the table, but it didn’t make much of a noise. He looked disappointed with the lack of dramatic effect.
“Dad, nobody says ‘chillax’ anymore,” Miranda told him, picking up her spoon again.
“Nobody ever said it,” added Rob.
“Please, could you all stop talking.” Peggy shuffled all her pages together. “You two, if you’re going to drop in to the rehearsal today, come by around eleven and don’t make any noise. I’ll be home tonight by six at the latest. I thought we could have an early dinner at that Indian restaurant around the corner.”
“I’ll still be out then,” their father said, folding the newspaper so only the crossword was visible. “Drinks thing with the Richard III Museum people, remember?”
“I’ll be out then, too,” said Rob.
“So will I,” said Miranda quickly.
“Where are
you
going?” Rob muttered, pointing at her with his spoon. Milk dribbled from the side of his mouth. Miranda hoped he acted more civilized in front of Sally.
“None of your business,” she whispered.
“Could everyone please be home no later than six thirty,” said Peggy, sliding papers into her portfolio. It was a statement rather than a question.
“Seven,” said Miranda. It meant she wouldn’t have much time with Nick, but anything was better than nothing. She wanted to see the Viking ghost. She wanted to see Nick.
“Ten,” said Rob. He was pushing it, Miranda thought.
“I could possibly make it.” Jeff sounded uncertain, but then he seemed to notice Peggy’s look of exasperation and disbelief. “Of course, darling — six thirty. No problem. You two! Home by six thirty. You can run wild other nights. Your mother and I have the medievalists’ banquet tomorrow night, which, by the way, you’re very welcome to attend.”
“No, thanks,” said Miranda. She’d been tricked into one of these medievalist shindigs before, in some conference-center ballroom in Chicago. Dry chicken, boring conversation, old people dancing. It was
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