room?”
Cooper shrugged. “When my great-great-grandfather emigrated from Ireland as a boy, he was dirt poor. He swore he would found a dynasty when he made his fortune. He was the twelfth of twelve and he wanted twelve children and each child to have twelve children of his or her own. And he wanted them all to live under the same roof.”
“Why that would be 144 people in your grandfather’s generation,” Julia said, trying to do the calculations in her head. “And by your time, that would be, that would be…”
“Twenty thousand, seven hundred and thirty six.”
“Well…” Julia looked at the house consideringly, “maybe a few of the distant cousins would have to stay in a hotel. Good thing they invented birth control before then. So, how many Coopers actually live here?”
“Just me,” Cooper said.
“Just you ?”
She saw him stifle a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Not even an odd cousin or two lost somewhere in the house?”
“Nope.” Cooper shifted his weight from one boot to another. That must be cowboy body language for embarrassment. “My great-great-grandfather had one child, a son, my great-grandfather had one child, a son, my grandfather had one child, a son, my father—”
“Wait,” Julia said. “Let me guess. One child, a son. You.”
“Bingo.” He took her elbow. “Let’s go.”
They walked through a kitchen which was every bit as big as the baronial hall in the Errol Flynn version of Robin Hood .
It was a perfect example of the dictum that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing twice. There were two fireplaces big enough to roast whole oxen and two ovens that could roast entire kids. A trestle table long enough to rollerblade on ran the length of the kitchen. Julia barely had time to take it in because Cooper had her arm in an iron grip again and he seemed to want to march her through the house, through long, dark musty corridors where she caught glimpses of long, dark musty rooms. After a few miles, Cooper finally stopped to open a big oak door and put a hand to the small of her back.
Julia peeked around the door then walked into the big room warily, not too sure what to expect.
Like Carly’s Diner, the room could have done with some major interior decorating. All the furniture was massive and dark and arranged around the walls, leaving an empty space in the middle that just sat there, doing nothing. Maybe Cooper held concerts there in the summer or something.
Then Julia’s eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and she felt herself relax.
Cooper was a reader.
In that instant she forgave him his communication problems and his crazy-making thighs and forearms.
Cooper belonged to her tribe. The tribe of readers.
Books lay everywhere, on every available surface and lining the walls. Real books, read books, not decorator ones. Julia’s hands itched to go over and look at the covers, maybe rub her face in a few and inhale the smell. But then she might start crying and get Cooper’s books all waterlogged, so she restrained herself.
The only note of warmth was a fire blazing in a huge hearth. Massive oak chairs were grouped around it. Julia could make out the forms of a man and a little boy. The man was black-haired and dressed in black, just like Cooper. Julia wondered if she had missed out on some new fad—ninja cowboys.
“Miss Anderson!” Rafael leapt out of his seat and came running to her. He lifted a small, anxious face. “Why are you here, Miss Anderson? I didn’t do nothing wrong, did I?”
“No, honey,” Julia said gently, ruffling his hair. “Of course you didn’t do anything wrong. I just came for a visit and to let your daddy know what a good little boy you are.” Some of Rafael’s anxiety eased but Julia could still see tension on his face.
Cooper took her arm again and they walked over to the fireplace. “Sally Anderson, I’d like to introduce you to Bernaldo Martinez, Rafael’s father and my foreman.”
The man gave no sign that he heard
Cooper shrugged. “When my great-great-grandfather emigrated from Ireland as a boy, he was dirt poor. He swore he would found a dynasty when he made his fortune. He was the twelfth of twelve and he wanted twelve children and each child to have twelve children of his or her own. And he wanted them all to live under the same roof.”
“Why that would be 144 people in your grandfather’s generation,” Julia said, trying to do the calculations in her head. “And by your time, that would be, that would be…”
“Twenty thousand, seven hundred and thirty six.”
“Well…” Julia looked at the house consideringly, “maybe a few of the distant cousins would have to stay in a hotel. Good thing they invented birth control before then. So, how many Coopers actually live here?”
“Just me,” Cooper said.
“Just you ?”
She saw him stifle a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Not even an odd cousin or two lost somewhere in the house?”
“Nope.” Cooper shifted his weight from one boot to another. That must be cowboy body language for embarrassment. “My great-great-grandfather had one child, a son, my great-grandfather had one child, a son, my grandfather had one child, a son, my father—”
“Wait,” Julia said. “Let me guess. One child, a son. You.”
“Bingo.” He took her elbow. “Let’s go.”
They walked through a kitchen which was every bit as big as the baronial hall in the Errol Flynn version of Robin Hood .
It was a perfect example of the dictum that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing twice. There were two fireplaces big enough to roast whole oxen and two ovens that could roast entire kids. A trestle table long enough to rollerblade on ran the length of the kitchen. Julia barely had time to take it in because Cooper had her arm in an iron grip again and he seemed to want to march her through the house, through long, dark musty corridors where she caught glimpses of long, dark musty rooms. After a few miles, Cooper finally stopped to open a big oak door and put a hand to the small of her back.
Julia peeked around the door then walked into the big room warily, not too sure what to expect.
Like Carly’s Diner, the room could have done with some major interior decorating. All the furniture was massive and dark and arranged around the walls, leaving an empty space in the middle that just sat there, doing nothing. Maybe Cooper held concerts there in the summer or something.
Then Julia’s eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and she felt herself relax.
Cooper was a reader.
In that instant she forgave him his communication problems and his crazy-making thighs and forearms.
Cooper belonged to her tribe. The tribe of readers.
Books lay everywhere, on every available surface and lining the walls. Real books, read books, not decorator ones. Julia’s hands itched to go over and look at the covers, maybe rub her face in a few and inhale the smell. But then she might start crying and get Cooper’s books all waterlogged, so she restrained herself.
The only note of warmth was a fire blazing in a huge hearth. Massive oak chairs were grouped around it. Julia could make out the forms of a man and a little boy. The man was black-haired and dressed in black, just like Cooper. Julia wondered if she had missed out on some new fad—ninja cowboys.
“Miss Anderson!” Rafael leapt out of his seat and came running to her. He lifted a small, anxious face. “Why are you here, Miss Anderson? I didn’t do nothing wrong, did I?”
“No, honey,” Julia said gently, ruffling his hair. “Of course you didn’t do anything wrong. I just came for a visit and to let your daddy know what a good little boy you are.” Some of Rafael’s anxiety eased but Julia could still see tension on his face.
Cooper took her arm again and they walked over to the fireplace. “Sally Anderson, I’d like to introduce you to Bernaldo Martinez, Rafael’s father and my foreman.”
The man gave no sign that he heard
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