Probably, this was the hardest he'd worked all year. My uncle was, to put it nicely, between jobs. In fact, he'd been between jobs for as long as I could remember, even before the death of my parents.
How long ago was that? Only five years? There were some days, like today, where it felt like a million.
My aunt's voice, dripping with sweetness, yanked my thoughts to the present. "Melody, darling. You never said, why aren't you at T.J.'s?"
That was a good question, and I was angry enough to give her a straight answer. "You mean right now? Maybe it's because…" My voice rose. "…I'm too busy stopping a robbery."
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she made a show of looking around. "What? Where?"
"Cut the act," I said. "I meanyou. Here."
Her smile disappeared, replaced by a look of overblown concern. "Oh, dear." She turned to Uncle Ernie. "I think there's been a terrible misunderstanding." She gave him a meaningful look. "Didn't you explain it to her?"
His face froze. "Uh…"
My aunt continued over him. "We weren'ttakingthese things. We weretransportingthem." She gave me a sunny smile. "For you."
"Oh yeah?" I made a sound of disgust. "Just like you 'transported' the good china? Was that for me, too?"
"Oh, stop harping on that," she said. "You don't use it, anyway. And, as I've told you many times, when you plan your next party, just let us know." She pursed her lips. "We'll bring it right back."
"Fine," I said. "I'm having a party tomorrow."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "We know you don't entertain."
About this, she was right. I didn't entertain, mostly because I didn't have the money. Forget fancy dinners. I could barely afford pop and pizza.
Pushing that depressing thought aside, I asked, "And how'd you get inthistime?"
"The front door," she said. "It was unlocked."
It was the same thing she always said. It was a lie, of course. Before leaving, I'd lockedallof the doors and engaged the alarm.
It hadn't stopped them. It never did. By now, I was almost convinced they had a secret entrance or something.
I gave her a dubious look. "Sure it was."
"It was," she insisted. "You really should be more careful." She looked to the painter, and her eyes narrowed. "I see you have a new friend."
I crossed my arms. "Yup."
She gave a loud sigh. "Well? Might I ask for an introduction?"
Next to her, my uncle muttered, "I wouldn’t recommend it."
I looked to the painter and felt a twinge of guilt. He wasn't just "the painter." He had a name – Joel Bishop. I'd seen that name on the check. If he was willing to stick up for me, the least I could do was remember his name.
He was still giving my uncle that ominous look. In passing, I couldn't help but wonder if it was Joel's stare, and not the weight of the horse, that was making my uncle sweat buckets.
Joel moved toward my uncle. "Are you putting that back?" His jaw tightened. "Or not?"
My uncle took a couple of steps backward and cleared his throat. "Uh, sure." He glanced toward the open front door. "I guess I'll just head inside and toss this thing back onto the pedestal."
"Remember," Joel warned, "in one piece."
My aunt spoke up. "Oh, you two, don't be ridiculous."
I wasn't sure who the "two" were.Joel and my uncle? Me and Joel?I paused.My uncle and the horse?I remained silent, hoping to just end this already.
