I kept swinging. I might have made a slight dent in the wall. This whole thing looked a lot more fun on HGTV.

“Somebody hand me that mullet,” I finally said.

John traded the sledgehammer for a hammer, and between the two of us we managed to open up a big enough hole in the plaster to see the old wood lath behind.

Joe took the sledgehammer from John. John took the hammer from me.

“Come on,” Christine said. “Let’s go check on the other boys.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I’ll meet you out in the trailer,” I said to Christine once we were in the upstairs hallway. “I just want to check on Polly and see if I can help her move out of Carol’s old room. She doesn’t have much stuff, so it won’t take long.”

“Where’s she going?” Christine smoothed both hands over her hair, as if watching us break through the plaster might have messed up her shiny brown bob.

“Nowhere,” I said. “She’s just relocating to Mom and Dad’s old room.”

Christine’s jaw actually dropped. “What? You’re making Johnny stay out in the backyard in a trailer, and you’re letting a stranger sleep in Mom and Dad’s room?”

I felt Polly’s presence at the foot of the stairs before I saw her. She turned, took a step, turned again, disappeared. A moment later, I heard the door to the cat room close softly.

“Whoopsies,” Christine said.

“Whoopsies? How old are you?” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“What?” she said. “I just asked a simple question. It’s not my fault she was listening.”

“Go,” I said. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Fine.” Christine stomped down the stairs.

I waited until the stomping stopped. Then I walked downstairs, opened the door to the cat room.

Polly was sitting on the couch, her lap filled with kittens, tears streaming down her cheeks. Pebbles watched us from her bookshelf, her emerald eyes glittering. I remembered Ethan telling me that in some cultures cats are considered to be mystical creatures, and the fairy world is watching us through their eyes. I took a moment to throw a pleading look to Pebbles, or the fairies, or the patron saint of lapsed Catholics, or whoever was minding the shop. Just don’t let me screw this up.

I sat down beside Polly. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Polly sniffed. “It’s just these damn pregnancy hormones. Everything makes me cry. I took a walk down by the town pier this morning, and a bunch of ducks were swimming around. I guess they were diving for their breakfast, but it looked like they were doing handstands in the water. You know, all these cute little fluffy white duck butts sticking up in the air.” She took a raggedy breath. “It was so beautiful.”

And then she burst into tears.