I follow, but stop when I notice something green on the porch railing. It’s viscous and of an unnatural fluorescent color. If Emily hadn’t outgrown slime a few years ago, I might think she’d put it here.
Once on the porch, I notice more green slime that looks like it’s dripping from the porch ceiling. It streaks the walls and has puddled on the floor in places.
Is this an elaborate prank? Or is something seriously wrong with this house?
“I’ll find my dad,” I say to Daisy as she stands on the porch, waiting for someone to open the door. “Come on in.”
She follows me inside, stopping in the hallway. Trisha is in the kitchen, madly putting dishes into the dishwasher. “Please tell me that’s not another surprise potential buyer. The house is a mess. Your sisters aren’t even trying to keep it clean.”
“It’s our CPS caseworker. The girls have been busy with school, but I’ll talk to them.”
She straightens, her eyes going almost comically wide. “A CPS… A caseworker? Why would you have a caseworker? You’re family.”
“Because I’m not their mother.”
“But now your father’s here, so we don’t need CPS to get involved at all.”
“They’re already involved,” I say. “They’re the ones who decided Mom wasn’t able to take care of the kids anymore, and they’re going to make sure Dad has their best interests in mind.”
“Well, of course he does.” Trisha swipes a stray hair off her face, leaving a damp streak on her forehead. “Tell whoever it is we don’t need her.”
“Where is Dad?” I ask.
“He’s in the backyard,” Trisha says. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”
I hurry out the back door to find Dad with Sophie and Emily, playing corn hole. Emily’s laughing so hard she’s curled over on herself, and even Sophie is smiling, leaning against Dad while he gestures and explains something about technique or form to her.
They’re so happy with him.
Dad looks over and sees me. “Want to play?”
“Our CPS caseworker is here,” I say. “She needs to talk to you about your guardianship of Emily and Sophie.”
“Guardianship?” he says. “I’m their father.”
I shrug. I’m not about to be the one to explain how he lost his parental rights when he left. “I’m just the messenger.”
He glances at the kids and then back to me. “Want to take over for me?”
“I think I should be there to talk to Daisy,” I say as I follow him toward the house. No way in hell am I missing out on this conversation.
Sophie starts following us, but I face her and shake my head. “Stay out here with Emily. Keep playing.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but she must see the determination on my face, because she nods. “Is everything okay?”
“I think she wants to talk to Dad about how selling the house might not be in your or Emily’s best interest,” I say in a low voice, with a wink for emphasis.
Sophie smiles. “Got it.”
When I get inside, Daisy is still standing in the hall. She always dresses conservatively, but today she’s added a blazer and has her hair up in a neat bun.
Trisha is nowhere to be found and clearly didn’t offer Daisy a seat or a drink.
Dad shakes her hand warmly. “Thank you for looking out for my kids,” he says cheerfully. “But I’m back now, so you’re no longer needed.”
“Hey, Daisy,” I say. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen to talk? Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” Daisy says, her smile tight as we all go into the kitchen.
