“Not ever,” repeated Fiona. “Besides, I have bigger things to worry about.”

“What?” asked Marlin.

“Oh, just the usual,” said Fiona, sighing and putting her dishes in the sink. Because she was babysitting all day, they apportioned the chores so that Charlie and Natasha did the dishes and Marlin cooked dinner as she always had and made the lunches. “I’m going to go take a bath.”

Fiona lay in the bath worrying. Mr. Pennypacker, after a period of quiet, had taken to writing increasingly threatening subject lines on his emails. MUST READ!!! TIME-SENSITIVE!!! WILL HAVE TO CONTACT SOCIAL SERVICES IF SILENCE CONTINUES!!! It was this last that worried her the most. She had told him that Al had misplaced the paperwork regarding Martha’s wish to have Al as the legal guardian but promised him that she would update him as soon as possible. But that was when she thought they would be adopted and the problem was soon to be solved if she could just put him off with a little lie. Now she didn’t know what to do. Every day she expected to come home to find a social worker sitting on the front porch or maybe even a police officer. Was it a crime to lie to everyone and stay in Canada without legal status or a guardian? Probably. They could be deported, she supposed. They weren’t Canadians, they were American citizens by birth. Round and round her head went these thoughts, driving her crazy, keeping her up at night. She was so worried she forgot what Marlin had said about Al coming over until there was a knock on the door.

She leapt out of the tub but she could hear Marlin downstairs handling it.

“No,” she heard her say. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Charlie is hiding in her room. She doesn’t want to talk to you either.”

“Listen, I only came over partly because of that. I think we may have a nibble for your book. My agent doesn’t handle cookbooks but he liked the idea so he sent a query to a friend of his who does. She’s a good agent, she handles cookbooks, and she wants to see it.”

“She wants to see my book!” shrieked Marlin.

“So, come on, come over to the trailer and let’s put together a smoking letter to go with the manuscript.”

“FIONA!” shouted Marlin. “I’m going to Al’s!”

“Fine!” shouted Fiona from the bathroom.

“Hi, Fiona!” shouted Al. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m very sorry about my oversight.”

Fiona didn’t answer. Oversight? For a word person he had picked a very inadequate one. Or maybe that’s how he was writing off the whole incident to salve his conscience.

“And I have a plan about that if you want to hear it!” Al continued.

Fiona stayed quiet.

“I thought I’d drive you over to Davy Clement’s house and you could just tell him what happened. You know, that I fell asleep and couldn’t take you. Just explain.”