“Uncle Xavier?” It’s Maddie.
“Yes?”
“Since you got here too late to tell us a story last night, can you do one now?”
Xavier has gotten into the habit of making up a story for the kids whenever he’s around at bedtime. The girls love it, Lonnie seems impressed with Xavier’s creativity, and Donnie, who acts like he isn’t into it, is.
“I’m afraid not. Bedtime stories have to happen at night. It would break all kinds of rules if I told you a bedtime story at breakfast.”
“There’s rules?” Mandie asks, wide-eyed.
“Oh, yes. You have to be very careful about these kinds of things. For example, if I told you a bedtime story right now you might fall asleep, and your head would tip forward and your face would land right there on your plate, right in your pancakes. Melted chocolate chips and syrup would get all over your cheeks and maybe go up your nose, and that would not be a pretty sight.”
“No it would not,” Fionna agrees.
Mandie wrinkles up her face. “Up my nose?”
“And besides, the boys would miss out.”
“We could wake them up?” she offers.
“Good luck.” Maddie carefully lifts a precise little square of pancake to her mouth. She has a sausage link on her plate as well and is careful to not let the different types of food on her plate touch each other. “At this time of day that would be taking your life into your hands.”
“Tonight.” Xavier holds up his fork as if he’s making a solemn pledge. “I promise.”
“Pinky promise?” Mandie presses him.
He hooks his pinky finger around hers. “Pinky promise.”
She smiles and, reassured, goes at her chocolate chip pancake with kindergartner gusto.
Xavier unscrews the top of a Nutella jar and smears a healthy glob of the spread onto his chocolate chip pancakes. “Ah, yes.” He smiles. “Nutella is the new chicken.”
Fionna looks at him blankly. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
He takes a Xavier-sized bite. “This is good.”
“By the way, whatever happened with the cheese? You used to have this thing for eating cheese all the time.”
“Moved on from that.” He’s speaking with his mouth full. “To nuts.”
“Nuts.”
“A different kind for every day of the week.”
“And you’re eating Nutella today.”
“Yup.” He swallows. “Made from hazelnuts.”
“Ah, let me guess, tomorrow it’s Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups?”
“Actually, that’s on Tuesday.”
“And then what? Pistachio nut ice cream?”
His eyes light up. “Now see, that’s good. I hadn’t even thought of that one. I’m gonna go with that for tomorrow.”
“Wonderful.”
“Can I eat ice cream and candy bars every day too, Mommy?” Mandie asks.
“No.”
I reposition the ice on my leg and work at finishing my breakfast.
Maddie looks up thoughtfully. “Uncle Xavier, I’ve been wondering, phonetically, why do we say a z sound for your name instead of an x?”
“You mean, why don’t you say ‘X-avier’? Pronounce the x separately?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it would be like someone saying your name like this: ‘M-addie,’ or calling your mom ‘F-ionna.’”
“Or ‘M-ommy.’”
“That would be silly.” Mandie giggles.
“Yes, it would.”
Maddie considers that for a moment. “Or it would be like saying ‘x-ylophone.’”
“That’s right. You see, when an x appears at the beginning of a word — unless it’s hyphenated, like X-Files—it makes the z sound, not the x sound. So when you say my name, it sounds like ‘Zavier.’”
“Then why isn’t it spelled that way?”
“Because then no one would ever have to ask me about it.” The girls accept the mildly evasive answer, and Xavier puts down his fork. “So what are you two up to today?”
I hope he’s not going to make some sort of smart comment about them being homeschooled, and thankfully he doesn’t but just points to Maddie’s copies of The Catcher in the Rye and Silas Marner and says good-naturedly, “Looks like a good day to tackle the classics.”
“Oh,” Maddie replies, “Mom doesn’t like us to read the classics. I’m just doing a report on why you shouldn’t read these two.”
“She doesn’t like you to read the classics?”
“Nope.”
“That’s right,” Fionna agrees. “I don’t want my children to read books that haven’t stood the test of time.”
“Wait. The classics haven’t stood the test of time?”
“Well, not those two at least.”
“Okay, that, you’re going to have to walk me through.”
“Sure, I’ll pencil you in for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why not right now?”
“Builds more suspense this way.” She flourishes her hand mysteriously. “Makes it all the more intriguing.”
“You’re just stalling.”
“Uh-uh,” Maddie cuts in. “She’s got a bunch of reasons. Seriously.”
Xavier pours a healthy dollop of syrup onto his Nutella-covered chocolate chip pancakes. “A homeschooling mom who doesn’t want her kids reading the classics? I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Mom’s not your typical homeschooling mom,” Maddie informs him.
“You know, I think I’m starting to catch hold of that.” Then he nods respectfully toward Fionna. “Nice flourish, by the way, a moment ago when you said it builds suspense.”
“Thank you.”
“You need to teach that to Jevin.”
We’ve been through this before. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I don’t flourish.”
Xavier shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you’re a magician and you don’t flourish. It’s an unwritten rule. All magicians flourish.”
“Grayson never trained me in the fine art of flourishing. Never flourished, never will.”
A few minutes later Charlene joins us. We finish breakfast, and the girls head into the other room — Mandie to play with Furman, Maddie to finish the research she started yesterday on jellyfish. I put the melting ice away as we lay out our plan for this morning.
Even though I don’t think Charlene is being chilly toward me, I sense that something has definitely wedged its way between us. Maybe it was my fault for chasing Tomás off that cliff, or maybe it was her unreasonable expectations, but in either case I don’t want her to get the sense that I don’t think about her feelings.
Well, maybe you don’t — at least not as much as you should.
That thought ticks me off and troubles me at the same time.
“I checked online.” She pours herself a cup of coffee. “The FBI office isn’t open on weekends.” When she goes on it’s with a slight touch of sarcasm. “I guess they expect fewer crimes on Saturdays. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do about setting up a meeting with an agent. In the meantime, I thought I’d do a little more research on cobras.” She glances my way. “Try to figure out why that bite had such an effect on you the other day when we were in the Philippines — that is, if it didn’t have its venom — and why it didn’t hurt you worse if it did.”
“Thanks.”
Fionna flips open her laptop. “By the way, thank you for making breakfast for the girls, Xavier. I’m sure the boys will be sorry they missed it.”
He pushes his chair back to stand. “I’ll mix up a few more flapjacks.”
She quickly waves that off. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s fine.” She checks the time on the clock above the sink—8:58—then addresses me and Xav. “So, like we talked about last night, while you two go take a look at Emilio’s place I’ll see what I can dig up here on this USB drive.”