locked us out, Ry,” came the irritated little reply.
I turned to Bente. “Told you.”
A few minutes after buzzing her in, Bridget appeared at my door with her dad. After hugging my legs and chastising me again for locking her out, she headed for her toybox.
“Where’s your mama?”
Bridget didn’t slow her walk. “At the picture shop.”
I checked my watch. It was just after four, which made seeing Adam very odd. He never usually escaped his office during daylight hours.
“Day off?” I asked.
“Afternoon off.” He made his way into the kitchen. “We had a babysitter malfunction. How are you, Bente?” he asked, noticing her on the floor. “Coping okay?”
She laughed. “Holding my own, thank you.”
I silently reprimanded my brother with a harsh scowl, which he ignored. “Buyer’s remorse usually take a week or two to kick in,” he taunted.
Bridget sat on the floor next to Bente, showing no sign of the shyness that had crippled her at dinner the week before. “You can’t play with my girls, okay?” she said, laying down the law.
Bente threw both hands up. “I won’t touch them. I swear.”
While she was occupied with Bridget, I stole a quick minute with Adam. “I need your help with something,” I murmured with a discreet upward nod.
Following my lead, we headed down the hallway to the bedroom.
Adam noticed the dresser as soon as he rounded the doorway. In fairness, the thing was so ugly and out of place he had no choice but to notice it. The clunky wooden piece was covered with a hundred layers of paint, and to its detriment, the most recent layer was teal green.
“Can you do anything with it?” I asked hopefully. If anyone could get it to an acceptable level, it was Adam. No one knew where his talent for carpentry came from. My mother insisted it was her side of the family. My father considered it a useless, pointless hobby and didn’t give a damn either way.
Adam pulled open one of the drawers. “It’s a really nice piece,” he murmured.
“Just tell me you can fix it.”
He closed the drawer and pulled open another. “I’ll give it a crack.”
I frowned at him, rubbing my chin. “How is it that you can speak perfect Australian and yet after all these years, your wife can’t grasp basic French?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, forming a sly smile. “My wife grasps French all the time. Just not in public.” He turned his attention back the dresser. “When does Bente want this done?” he asked, pushing the drawer shut. “I don’t have much time so it might take a while.”
“She doesn’t know anything about it,” I replied. “I’m the one who wants it fixed.”
Adam pulled in a long breath but didn’t seem to let it go. “She might not think it’s broken, Ryan.”
I took a look around my bedroom. I’d paid a designer a small fortune to make it look the way it did. I loved the sleek low line black furniture. It was urban and chic and exactly what I wanted. The dresser was like my bed’s ugly stepsister. Of course it was broken.
“How could she not?” I pointed at the monstrosity. “Look at it.”
“I’m not touching it until she gives the go-ahead.” Adam chipped a few flecks of paint off with ease. “You can’t make decisions like that on your own, Ryan. Not any more.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not on your own any more, stupid. For some reason, Bente’s agreed to take you on permanently. That means you now share a closet and an ugly dresser. Congratulations.” He slapped me on the back. “You’re a grownup.”
***
Apparently Bridget had taken advantage of the minute alone to really lay down the law to Bente. Not only was her box of severed dolls off limits, trips to the park with her uncle were too. I’m glad Bente waited until they left before telling me. I suspected it was something I should’ve been reprimanding the little princess for, but as usual, I had no idea how. “She also told me that the juice boxes in the
I turned to Bente. “Told you.”
A few minutes after buzzing her in, Bridget appeared at my door with her dad. After hugging my legs and chastising me again for locking her out, she headed for her toybox.
“Where’s your mama?”
Bridget didn’t slow her walk. “At the picture shop.”
I checked my watch. It was just after four, which made seeing Adam very odd. He never usually escaped his office during daylight hours.
“Day off?” I asked.
“Afternoon off.” He made his way into the kitchen. “We had a babysitter malfunction. How are you, Bente?” he asked, noticing her on the floor. “Coping okay?”
She laughed. “Holding my own, thank you.”
I silently reprimanded my brother with a harsh scowl, which he ignored. “Buyer’s remorse usually take a week or two to kick in,” he taunted.
Bridget sat on the floor next to Bente, showing no sign of the shyness that had crippled her at dinner the week before. “You can’t play with my girls, okay?” she said, laying down the law.
Bente threw both hands up. “I won’t touch them. I swear.”
While she was occupied with Bridget, I stole a quick minute with Adam. “I need your help with something,” I murmured with a discreet upward nod.
Following my lead, we headed down the hallway to the bedroom.
Adam noticed the dresser as soon as he rounded the doorway. In fairness, the thing was so ugly and out of place he had no choice but to notice it. The clunky wooden piece was covered with a hundred layers of paint, and to its detriment, the most recent layer was teal green.
“Can you do anything with it?” I asked hopefully. If anyone could get it to an acceptable level, it was Adam. No one knew where his talent for carpentry came from. My mother insisted it was her side of the family. My father considered it a useless, pointless hobby and didn’t give a damn either way.
Adam pulled open one of the drawers. “It’s a really nice piece,” he murmured.
“Just tell me you can fix it.”
He closed the drawer and pulled open another. “I’ll give it a crack.”
I frowned at him, rubbing my chin. “How is it that you can speak perfect Australian and yet after all these years, your wife can’t grasp basic French?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, forming a sly smile. “My wife grasps French all the time. Just not in public.” He turned his attention back the dresser. “When does Bente want this done?” he asked, pushing the drawer shut. “I don’t have much time so it might take a while.”
“She doesn’t know anything about it,” I replied. “I’m the one who wants it fixed.”
Adam pulled in a long breath but didn’t seem to let it go. “She might not think it’s broken, Ryan.”
I took a look around my bedroom. I’d paid a designer a small fortune to make it look the way it did. I loved the sleek low line black furniture. It was urban and chic and exactly what I wanted. The dresser was like my bed’s ugly stepsister. Of course it was broken.
“How could she not?” I pointed at the monstrosity. “Look at it.”
“I’m not touching it until she gives the go-ahead.” Adam chipped a few flecks of paint off with ease. “You can’t make decisions like that on your own, Ryan. Not any more.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not on your own any more, stupid. For some reason, Bente’s agreed to take you on permanently. That means you now share a closet and an ugly dresser. Congratulations.” He slapped me on the back. “You’re a grownup.”
***
Apparently Bridget had taken advantage of the minute alone to really lay down the law to Bente. Not only was her box of severed dolls off limits, trips to the park with her uncle were too. I’m glad Bente waited until they left before telling me. I suspected it was something I should’ve been reprimanding the little princess for, but as usual, I had no idea how. “She also told me that the juice boxes in the
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