“Wait. Where are you going?” Eric asked.
Uncle Colin stopped and looked back. “Thank you,” he said, his hands clasped in front of him. “And…don’t worry! Certainly don’t worry.” He started to turn away then paused. “Best not to try the pickle soup.” He nodded toward the kitchen and, as he shook his head side to side, mouthed, “Not good.”
Eric was left standing alone.
Who were these people? How had he ever thought this was going to be a solution to his problems?
And pickle soup?
“Hey, are you hungry?”
Fiona was standing on his side of the plane, holding a bowl of something in one hand and waving him over with the other. He hadn’t been eating much since his mother went missing. Not that his dad wasn’t a good cook. Well…he wasn’t, but he was good at ordering takeout. Eric just didn’t have an appetite anymore. Except now, he actually did feel hungry.
Maybe just a little something wouldn’t be so bad.
He trudged across the field and ducked under the plane to the other side.
The kitchen was amazing. It was raised above the ground on solid wooden platforms and consisted of an oven, a stove, a sink, two large reach-in cabinets, and a small refrigerator. Not too far away a generator hummed, giving power to the fridge and the lights.
On the other side of the kitchen, also on raised platforms, was a long wooden table with benches on either side. Above the table was a dark red canvas tent, held in place by several sturdy wooden poles and taut ropes staked into the ground.
Maggie was sitting at one end of the table eating a bowl of ice cream, while at the other end sat another girl hunched over something, her back to Eric.
Fiona was standing near the stove chatting to a woman stirring a large pot of something that smelled…horrible.
“Want some soup?” Fiona asked. “It’s my favorite. Pickle.”
“I, um, think I’ll pass.”
The older woman laughed. “I would pass, too. The only reason I make it is because Ronan and Fiona love it so. The rest of us…” She made a face that conveyed her distaste. Like the two uncles, she, too, had an Irish accent. She seemed about the same age as the men, but that may have only been because she had a few strands of gray in her otherwise brown hair.
“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Fiona protested.
The woman shook her head. “Yes, it is.”
Fiona frowned, then scooped up a spoonful of the soup and stuck it in her mouth.
The woman smiled at Eric. “There’s something special for you in the oven. Be careful you don’t burn yourself pulling it out.”
Something special? he thought. “Okay, thanks.”
He found two potholders on the counter next to the oven and opened the door. Sitting on the top rack was a Hawaiian pizza, his absolute favorite. How had they—
Oh, right. The questionnaire he’d answered on the phone.
He pulled the pan out and put a piece on a plate. He waited until it was just cool enough then took a big bite. Absolutely delicious. Perhaps even one of the best Hawaiian pizzas he’d ever had. He quickly finished the slice then took another and woofed it down, too.
“Don’t your folks ever feed you?” Fiona asked.
“Sweetie, that’s not really nice,” the woman said. She gestured toward the table. “Eric, perhaps you’d like to sit down.”
“Thanks, uh…”
The woman smiled. “My daughter seems to have forgotten to introduce us, hasn’t she? You can call me Mother Trouble.”
Eric cocked his head. “Trouble? I thought that was just a title or something the other guy called himself. It’s really your last name?”
“It’s really our last name,” Mother Trouble said.
Maggie rose from the table, her empty bowl in her hand. “Trouble? Sounds made up to me. Nobody has that as a last name.”
Fiona’s eyes narrowed defensively. “We do. I’m Fiona Trouble. And Mom’s Deirdre Trouble. You’ve already met my brother, Ronan Trouble.”
“You mean Mr. Trouble?” Maggie asked, suppressing a laugh.
Fiona glared. “Only he gets to call himself Mr. Trouble because he’s head of the house now.”
“You’re serious,” Eric said. “You’re the Trouble family?”
“I’m afraid that’s right,” Fiona’s mom said. “It is a bit unusual, I’ll admit that.” She looked at Maggie. “But that’s because you’re right, too. It is made up.”
“Has anyone seen the location report?”
Everyone turned. Mr. Trouble was sticking his head out a window near the front of the plane.
“I repeat,” he said. “Has anyone seen the location report?”
“Dear, isn’t it in the folder?” his mother asked.
“No. It is not in the folder. That, of course, is the first place I checked.” He looked around then leaned down a little, trying to look under the awning. “Keira, is that you?”
The girl at the table didn’t move.
“It’s her,” Fiona said.
“You did put the report in the folder, didn’t you?”
With a huff, the girl at the table — Keira — mumbled, “What do you think?”
“I can’t hear you,” Mr. Trouble said.
She spun around and stood up. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I put it in the folder.”
“Well, I can’t find it.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“Are you sure you put it in the right folder?”
Keira glared up at him and said very slowly, “Yes. I’m sure.”
Without waiting for him to say anything else, she stomped off under the plane and over to the field on the other side.
As she passed him, Eric noticed she was holding a book. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was from the Noriko’s Revenge series, a Japanese manga adventure. And if he really wasn’t seeing things, he would have sworn the number 11 was on the cover. But that would be impossible. Volume 11 wasn’t supposed to be released for another month, something he was well aware of because he’d been anxiously awaiting it.
Fiona shook her head. “My sister’s had a rough time since…well, since my brother took over the position of Mr. Trouble. It’s just a phase. Kids are so difficult at her age.”
Maggie frowned. “Kids? She looks about the same age as you.”
Eric had actually thought Keira might be older. Though Keira looked a lot like Fiona, only with light brown hair, she was at least two inches taller.
“Same age?” Fiona said, grimacing. “I’m fifteen. She’s only thirteen, barely even a teenager.”
“I’m thirteen,” Eric said.
“It’s different with boys.”
“I’m thirteen, too,” Maggie told her.
Fiona nodded. “Yeah. I can tell.” She looked in the direction her sister had gone. “I’d better go make her feel better.” As she jogged off, she yelled, “Keira, wait up!”
“Found it!” Mr. Trouble called out from above.
“Oh, good,” his mother said. “Where was it?”
“Well…funny thing. It seemed to be stuck to another piece of paper.”
“So it was in the folder,” Mother Trouble said.
“Uh, yeah.”
“I think you owe your sister an apology.”
Mr. Trouble frowned as he disappeared back into the plane, but only a second passed before he stuck his head back out the window. “Eric, can you come up here?”
“Into the plane?” Eric asked.
But Mr. Trouble had disappeared again.
Mother Trouble smiled. “Yes. Into the plane.”
“Can I go with him?” Maggie asked.
“I think that’s a grand idea,” Mother Trouble said. “It’ll be good for Eric to have someone he trusts know what the plan is.”