brown-eyed, brown-haired youngest, was a little quieter until she got revved up. She was the budding hair stylist, who was clutching a fistful of my hair in a death grip while she whacked away at my head with the brush.
“I have no idea what’s funny about it,” Caroline said wearily. “It’s a Laundromat. The sign should just say Laundromat. The owner thinks she’s clever, I guess.”
The place didn’t close until nine, but Caro’s part-time help ran the place during the afternoon and early evening while my sister took care of her kids. Then she’d put the girls in bed and run down to handle the closing, she’d told me. She looked tired, but I couldn’t remember a time since she’d gotten pregnant with Autumn that she hadn’t looked tired.
Autumn’s loser of a father had hit the road as soon as he’d learned he was going to be a parent, and Caro had only been sixteen at the time. I remembered all the drama and shouting matches when she’d announced she was keeping the baby, and then two years later she’d turned around and done it all over again with a different loser. At least that had been my perspective as a smart-assed thirteen-year-old kid. Now I was old enough to understand how hard it was to be alone—and how far a person might go to be with someone he wanted, no matter the consequences.
Summer stood on the couch behind me and leaned over until she was staring at me upside down. “Would you like ponytails?”
I pretended to consider the question. “Only if you have purple ribbons,” I said, spying the purple ribbons on the floor by the toy box.
She shrieked so loudly that my skull reverberated. “I do! And more in my room!”
She ran to get them, and Autumn tore off after her to find her latest doll to show me. Caroline smiled at me.
“You’re always so good with them. I wish you could come around more often,” she said.
Guilt washed over me. I hadn’t even realized she’d moved in here, because it had been August since I’d seen her. The attack had lain between us, festering with guilt and shame, because I think Caro felt like it had been her fault I’d been sent to juvie. I’d been ashamed she’d seen me turn so violent—so Ethan-like. Instead of bringing us together, it had nearly driven us apart forever. But she was my sister—the only one I’d ever have—and she hadn’t wanted to leave things between us like that, so she’d tried to reach out.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to respond at the time, but that she’d even tried had meant something, and here I was.
“I’m really sorry, Caro. School started, and—”
She waved a hand. “No, no. I wasn’t trying to give you a guilt trip. God knows I understand being busy. Speaking of which, I need to feed the girls. Lucky for them that Ma sent food. It was going to be macaroni and cheese again.”
“Hey, nothing beats a good mac and cheese,” I said. “Can I help you set the table?”
Caro grinned as the girls shrieked their way back into the room. “I think you’re going to be too busy getting beautiful, Uncle Mickey.”
Twenty minutes later, I was beautiful, all right. I was wearing five or six tiny, purple-ribboned ponytails and eating Anna Mae’s cooking for the first time, ever.
“She’s a good cook,” I had to admit.
“Her single maternal skill,” Caro said dryly. “Speaking of cooking, did you hear anything else from Pa about Ethan’s . . . kitchen fire?”
Autumn looked up, her eyes wide. “Uncle Ethan set fire to the kitchen?”
“We’re not really sure, sweetheart,” I told her. “We think it might actually have been an accident.”
I didn’t really think that at all, but that’s what Ethan had convinced my Dad to believe, and I didn’t want to worry Caro when I had no proof of my suspicions.
“I had an accident at daycare once,” Summer confided, her tiny face solemn. “But that was back when I was little, and I had extra pants in my cubby. Did Uncle Ethan have
“I have no idea what’s funny about it,” Caroline said wearily. “It’s a Laundromat. The sign should just say Laundromat. The owner thinks she’s clever, I guess.”
The place didn’t close until nine, but Caro’s part-time help ran the place during the afternoon and early evening while my sister took care of her kids. Then she’d put the girls in bed and run down to handle the closing, she’d told me. She looked tired, but I couldn’t remember a time since she’d gotten pregnant with Autumn that she hadn’t looked tired.
Autumn’s loser of a father had hit the road as soon as he’d learned he was going to be a parent, and Caro had only been sixteen at the time. I remembered all the drama and shouting matches when she’d announced she was keeping the baby, and then two years later she’d turned around and done it all over again with a different loser. At least that had been my perspective as a smart-assed thirteen-year-old kid. Now I was old enough to understand how hard it was to be alone—and how far a person might go to be with someone he wanted, no matter the consequences.
Summer stood on the couch behind me and leaned over until she was staring at me upside down. “Would you like ponytails?”
I pretended to consider the question. “Only if you have purple ribbons,” I said, spying the purple ribbons on the floor by the toy box.
She shrieked so loudly that my skull reverberated. “I do! And more in my room!”
She ran to get them, and Autumn tore off after her to find her latest doll to show me. Caroline smiled at me.
“You’re always so good with them. I wish you could come around more often,” she said.
Guilt washed over me. I hadn’t even realized she’d moved in here, because it had been August since I’d seen her. The attack had lain between us, festering with guilt and shame, because I think Caro felt like it had been her fault I’d been sent to juvie. I’d been ashamed she’d seen me turn so violent—so Ethan-like. Instead of bringing us together, it had nearly driven us apart forever. But she was my sister—the only one I’d ever have—and she hadn’t wanted to leave things between us like that, so she’d tried to reach out.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to respond at the time, but that she’d even tried had meant something, and here I was.
“I’m really sorry, Caro. School started, and—”
She waved a hand. “No, no. I wasn’t trying to give you a guilt trip. God knows I understand being busy. Speaking of which, I need to feed the girls. Lucky for them that Ma sent food. It was going to be macaroni and cheese again.”
“Hey, nothing beats a good mac and cheese,” I said. “Can I help you set the table?”
Caro grinned as the girls shrieked their way back into the room. “I think you’re going to be too busy getting beautiful, Uncle Mickey.”
Twenty minutes later, I was beautiful, all right. I was wearing five or six tiny, purple-ribboned ponytails and eating Anna Mae’s cooking for the first time, ever.
“She’s a good cook,” I had to admit.
“Her single maternal skill,” Caro said dryly. “Speaking of cooking, did you hear anything else from Pa about Ethan’s . . . kitchen fire?”
Autumn looked up, her eyes wide. “Uncle Ethan set fire to the kitchen?”
“We’re not really sure, sweetheart,” I told her. “We think it might actually have been an accident.”
I didn’t really think that at all, but that’s what Ethan had convinced my Dad to believe, and I didn’t want to worry Caro when I had no proof of my suspicions.
“I had an accident at daycare once,” Summer confided, her tiny face solemn. “But that was back when I was little, and I had extra pants in my cubby. Did Uncle Ethan have
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