“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked him.
Knox gave Waylon’s ears a last ruffle. “What plan?”
“Breakfast? With my family?” I prodded.
“Well, Daze, I don’t know about you, but my plan is to guzzle half a pot of coffee, chow down on some bacon, and then go back to bed for another four or five hours.”
“I mean, are we still…you know…pretending?”
Something passed over his face that I couldn’t read.
“Yeah. We’re still pretending,” he said finally.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or not.
Inside, we found Liza and my dad standing sentry behind Stef as he peered into the oven at two baking sheets of bacon that smelled like heaven. Mom was setting the table in the sun-room. Waylay was making her way around the table, still in her new, pink tie-dye pajamas, carefully pouring glasses of orange juice.
I felt a swift rush of affection for her and then remembered I had to come up with a suitable punishment for her today. I really needed to get to the discipline chapter in my library book.
“Mornin’, lovebirds. Didn’t expect to see you here, Knox,” Liza said, spotting us as she shuffled over to the coffee maker in a blue fuzzy robe over lightweight camouflage pajamas.
Knox draped an arm around my shoulders. “Mornin’,” he returned. “I couldn’t pass up the bacon.”
“No one can,” Stef said, pulling the trays out of the oven and setting them on the two cooling racks I’d discovered hidden behind the hutch in Liza’s dining room.
Waylay padded in on bare feet and sniffed with suspicion. “Why’s it smell weird?”
“First of all, gorgeous, you smell weird,” Stef said, giving her a wink. “Secondly, that’s the caramelized maple syrup.”
Waylay perked up. “I like syrup.” Her eyes slid to me. “Mornin’, Aunt Naomi.”
I ran my hand through her messy blonde hair. “Morning, kiddo. Did you have fun with your grandparents last night, or did they make you scrub the floors?”
“Me and Grandma and Uncle Stef watched The Princess Bride. Grandpa fell asleep before the shrieking eels,” she said. “Am I still grounded?”
Mom opened her mouth, looked at me, then shut it again.
“You are,” I decided. “For the weekend.”
“Can we still go to the library?”
I was new at this discipline thing, but I figured the library was safe enough. “Sure,” I yawned.
“Someone needs her coffee,” Mom sang. “Late night?” She looked pointedly at Knox and then winked at me.
“You know where else you two should go today?” Dad said. Now that the bacon was safely out of the oven, he was peering over Liza’s shoulder as she flipped an omelet.
“Where?” I asked warily.
He turned to look at me. “Car shopping. You need a car.” Dad said it with authority as if the idea of getting a car had somehow never occurred to me.
“I know, Dad. It’s on the list.”
It was on a literal list. A spreadsheet actually, comparing makes and models ranked by reliability, gas mileage, and cost.
“You and Waylay need something reliable,” he continued. “You can’t get around on bikes forever. It’ll be winter before you know it.”
“I know, Dad.”