Page 124 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“I always want to join you.”
“You sometimes want to join me.” I take another bite of cake. “I sometimes feel like an idiot. I’m sorry I ran off the other morning after you put me up for the night. It wasn’t anything you did. Friends again?”
“Always.”
Chapter 37
The next day, I drive over to a small house on Los Altos Road in Pacific Beach. I did have the good sense to pick up flowers, cat treats, and bottles of ginger ale before I arrive unannounced. I ring the bell at the front door and smile when a woman my mom’s age swings it open.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Miller.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Beatrice McKinney, Adam’s sister. I’ve come as an envoy and potential cat sitter.”
“Oh, come in. Yes, come in. Adam warned me someone might be stopping by. Glass of lemonade? It’s freshly made.”
“Yes, please.” I step into a chic and spotless little Craftsman-style home. “How’s the new kitten?”
“Delightful. I don’t know why I waited all these years to adopt. He’ll appear when he wants to. He likes people, more than I do most days. You look awfully familiar. Were you one of my students?”
Before I can even say a word, Mrs. Miller snaps her fingers. “Mitzy Princess Kitty 2000.”
“Yes.” I sip my lemonade and try not to guzzle it. So good. So delicious. “I am on her channel.”
“Sarah and I have watched all of her videos. We cried when she met her new sister. How are they doing?”
“Mitzy and Sasha are inseparable. Everyone is very happy over there.”
“A little shelter tabby and a princess. Who would have thought?”
A black fluffball announces himself with a squeaky meow. “Well, hello, sir,” I say to the kitten. I kneel on the floor to make his acquaintance. “Aren’t you adorable? What’s his name?”
“Sir Bartholomew Fluffy Pants. Barty for short.”
“Oh, your pants are so fluffy.” He’s an extremely friendly little fellow. “Yes, they are.” I smile at Mrs. Miller. “Does Barty do okay when you’re teaching?”
“Yes. I come check in on him at lunch most days. I’ve also taken him in with me on occasion, but don’t tell admin.”
“I completely understand not wanting to leave a little guy on his first Thanksgiving. But I’d be so happy to stay and play if you wanted to head up to Del Mar. I’m sure I could get him settled—”
“That’s very kind of you. But crashing your mother’s Thanksgiving is the last thing I want to do. I would have found another sound excuse for staying home even if Barty wasn’t here.”
“Why?” I find it's best to be direct. “I can assure you my brother is a stand-up guy.”
“Oh, sweetie. I know! That’s the whole point.” Mrs. Miller refills my lemonade. “I don’t want to put any pressure on what Adam and Sarah have. Getting parents together can do that.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“No, schoolteachers generally are not wrong.”
“I have to say that my parents are lovely.”
“I’m sure. I’m not making excuses because I don’t want this to be… What’s the phrase the kids use? Endgame? I’m hanging back because I want Sarah and Adam to have all the time and space they need. No pressure. No added expectations.”
She seems so chill compared to my mom, who has texted me about two dozen times today already. “You’re not scared?”
Mrs. Miller laughs and takes a seat on the floor near the coffee table. “I’m terrified. I’ve never seen Sarah so happy. I want to meddle, fix everything so it stays this way, but that’s not how these things work.”
