Page 49 of The Surprise
That, in a nutshell, has always been Mom’s issue with this whole thing. She’s all about maximizing gains. How much can a job bring in for the smallest amount of work? It’s funny that, for someone who pays a lot of attention to that, she had so many kids. One kid might bring you joy, and you have to invest in it, but I can see why someone like her might have one.
But four?
It’s way more work for a negligible increase in joy, especially when the four of your children fight and squabble.
Although, given how little I’ve followed in her and Dad’s footsteps, maybe it’s good she invested in children who might actually fulfill their potential. Jeff and Kevin told me they’ve been saving to buy a ranch of their own, and they’re a little short yet, but they said if I could borrow some money myself, the three of us could buy the ranch together.
I really thought about it.
It’s what I want to do, frankly, even if I’d be co-owning it with two other guys. They’re decent people. I trust them. They know their stuff. They like the area. They work hard.
But if I did that, if I took out a loan on the ranch and stayed when my family went back to Houston. . .I can’t help seeing it all over again in my mind—Mom’s face when I whipped the door open. I may not be the college-boy clone Mom and Dad deserved, but I’m not a bad enough son to stay here while my mom does everything with the other three kids all alone.
“Hey, kid,” Amanda Saddler says. “You gonna sit there all day?” She taps on the window with one knobby finger.
I jump.
For an old lady, she moves pretty quietly.
“Did you freeze to death in there?” Her head leans closer to the glass, and I open the door. Not enough to hit her in the head, but enough that she knows I’m coming out.
“Your mom said you had a load of stuff?”
I nod.
“It’s going in the barn, I think.” She points.
Duh. Mom and Izzy were packing stuff in suitcases for the few weeks we’ll be living here, and the rest is just being packed up until we get a rental truck to haul it back. “Right. Sorry.”
I’m about to close the door so I can pull the truck forward when her gnarly hand curls around the edge of the door. “Wait just a second. How about, while you’re already right here, you come help me rearrange some stuff.”
I should’ve expected something like this. She’s being awfully generous, letting us stay here for free. We should have offered to help her haul some things out of the rooms we’re occupying so Gabe won’t break them. I slide out the door and zip up my coat against the brisk wind. “Sure, I’m happy to haul out whatever you need, too.”
“Haul out?” She arches an eyebrow so high it almost hits her knit cap. “What are you saying, boy?”
I swallow. “No idea. Why don’t you tell me what I should be saying?”
She cackles. “Yes, good boy.” She starts for the house, her head bobbing, her weird little pig bouncing along after her. Watching them head for the door, I realize they make more sense than I thought. Amanda Saddler’s not your average old lady, and it would be crazier for her to have, like, a fluffy little lapdog, than it is for her to have a pig wearing what I swear looks like a Lololime vest.
I’m not even going to ask.
“Now listen here.”
I trot after her as fast as I can manage so I don’t guess wrong again.
“You’re bringing all this joy to my house, so I wanted to be ready for it.”
Joy? What’s she talking about? Has she met Whitney? Or Gabe?
Maybe she’s having a stroke.
“I’m sorry?”
She’s stopped in front of her brightly painted door. “For what?”
“I didn’t understand. Did you say we’re bringingjoy?”
“Of course I did,” she says. “You’re bringing happy little children and—”
