Trisha shrieked when a loud rattling came from inside the cupboard, making her scramble away and bump into the trash can.
Julia slammed the cupboard door closed and held her leg against it. “You’re sure it’s
locked
?”
Trisha took a deep breath and got back on her knees with a scowl. “It has little metal pins on both sides that slide into eyelets on the door. I closed both of them,” she said, grabbing the cupboard handle. She nodded. “Okay, move away and I’ll check and make sure they’re both still in place.”
Julia stepped away, then watched as Trisha slowly opened the cupboard and peeked inside just as the cat door rattled again. “Go home, you brats,” Trisha said into the cupboard, making the rattling stop. “You don’t live here anymore. You moved down the mountain.” She grinned up at Julia. “It was probably a mistake to feed them.”
“A well-aimed bucket of water might change their minds,” Julia drawled.
Trisha closed the cupboard and stood up. “They’ll eventually get bored and leave. But Nicholas really should have told us about the cat door, or at least thought to lock it, expecting they’d come back.”
“He was too busy escaping from Ella to tell me,” Julia said on a laugh. She walked over and started looking through the boxes Trisha had brought back from the MacKeages’—that Peg had thoughtfully filled with food staples for their new apartment. She hoped her friend had included coffee for the coffeemaker Nicholas wisely
hadn’t
filched. “Apparently our big, strapping director of security is afraid of little girls,” she continued, sighing in relief when she found a can of coffee. She started digging through the boxes looking for filters. “Oh, by the way, Olivia said I can work off our rent by babysitting Ella, and you might as well sign up for a shift or two yourself.”
“Sure,” Trisha said, grabbing the carafe and filling it at the sink. “Mrs. MacKeage can give me a reference if you think it’ll make Mrs. Oceanus feel better. And Sophie and Henry know me quite well, since they spend a lot of time at the MacKeages’.”
Julia slid the drawer closed with her hip after pulling out the can opener and started opening the coffee—savoring the sound of the air rushing into the can when she pierced the lid. “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling people by their first names like Peg keeps suggesting?”
Trisha spun toward her. “Mom would roll over in her grave.”
“You’re an adult now, Trisha.” Julia gestured around the kitchen with the can opener. “You’re living almost on your own, you earn your own money, and now you’ll be able to deposit the social security checks you started getting when Mom died into
your own
checking account.”
“Do . . . do you think Dad’s going to let me? Those checks are the biggest reason he dragged me home the last time we tried to move out.”
“You’ll be a legal adult in a month, so he can’t force you to live with him anymore, and we’ll go online and have Social Security send them to
your
checking account the moment you turn eighteen.” Julia waved at the apartment again. “And even drunk, Dad wouldn’t have the courage to come up here and drag you home at two in the morning—assuming he could even get past the bottom guardhouse.” She touched Trisha’s shoulder. “You’re free now, little sister. Dad’s not going to start anything this close to your birthday.”
A slow smile spread across Trisha’s face, her eyes filling with the knowledge it was finally over. “No more drunken tirades and sleeping on church pews, and no more embarrassing public scenes in town or at school.”
Julia started spooning coffee into the filter. “Sorry, sis, but the embarrassment doesn’t end with emancipation; it just changes.” She started the coffee brewing, then turned with a smile. “But you’ll survive by holding your head high and thumbing your nose at anyone who tries to knock you
Julia slammed the cupboard door closed and held her leg against it. “You’re sure it’s
locked
?”
Trisha took a deep breath and got back on her knees with a scowl. “It has little metal pins on both sides that slide into eyelets on the door. I closed both of them,” she said, grabbing the cupboard handle. She nodded. “Okay, move away and I’ll check and make sure they’re both still in place.”
Julia stepped away, then watched as Trisha slowly opened the cupboard and peeked inside just as the cat door rattled again. “Go home, you brats,” Trisha said into the cupboard, making the rattling stop. “You don’t live here anymore. You moved down the mountain.” She grinned up at Julia. “It was probably a mistake to feed them.”
“A well-aimed bucket of water might change their minds,” Julia drawled.
Trisha closed the cupboard and stood up. “They’ll eventually get bored and leave. But Nicholas really should have told us about the cat door, or at least thought to lock it, expecting they’d come back.”
“He was too busy escaping from Ella to tell me,” Julia said on a laugh. She walked over and started looking through the boxes Trisha had brought back from the MacKeages’—that Peg had thoughtfully filled with food staples for their new apartment. She hoped her friend had included coffee for the coffeemaker Nicholas wisely
hadn’t
filched. “Apparently our big, strapping director of security is afraid of little girls,” she continued, sighing in relief when she found a can of coffee. She started digging through the boxes looking for filters. “Oh, by the way, Olivia said I can work off our rent by babysitting Ella, and you might as well sign up for a shift or two yourself.”
“Sure,” Trisha said, grabbing the carafe and filling it at the sink. “Mrs. MacKeage can give me a reference if you think it’ll make Mrs. Oceanus feel better. And Sophie and Henry know me quite well, since they spend a lot of time at the MacKeages’.”
Julia slid the drawer closed with her hip after pulling out the can opener and started opening the coffee—savoring the sound of the air rushing into the can when she pierced the lid. “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling people by their first names like Peg keeps suggesting?”
Trisha spun toward her. “Mom would roll over in her grave.”
“You’re an adult now, Trisha.” Julia gestured around the kitchen with the can opener. “You’re living almost on your own, you earn your own money, and now you’ll be able to deposit the social security checks you started getting when Mom died into
your own
checking account.”
“Do . . . do you think Dad’s going to let me? Those checks are the biggest reason he dragged me home the last time we tried to move out.”
“You’ll be a legal adult in a month, so he can’t force you to live with him anymore, and we’ll go online and have Social Security send them to
your
checking account the moment you turn eighteen.” Julia waved at the apartment again. “And even drunk, Dad wouldn’t have the courage to come up here and drag you home at two in the morning—assuming he could even get past the bottom guardhouse.” She touched Trisha’s shoulder. “You’re free now, little sister. Dad’s not going to start anything this close to your birthday.”
A slow smile spread across Trisha’s face, her eyes filling with the knowledge it was finally over. “No more drunken tirades and sleeping on church pews, and no more embarrassing public scenes in town or at school.”
Julia started spooning coffee into the filter. “Sorry, sis, but the embarrassment doesn’t end with emancipation; it just changes.” She started the coffee brewing, then turned with a smile. “But you’ll survive by holding your head high and thumbing your nose at anyone who tries to knock you
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