An accent. Just a hint of one, but enough. She couldn’t place it. Australian, maybe. Or Cajun. She loved a man with an accent.
“I’m George Azelle.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he set on her desk.
The name registered.
“I see you remember me.” He leaned forward, pushing the paper closer to her. “Don’t worry about the way you’re looking at me. I’ve grown used to it. I’m here about her.”
“Her?”
He unfolded the paper he’d pushed forward. It was a picture of Alice. “I’m her father.”
“Alice, how many times are we going to have this same discussion?” Julia couldn’t help laughing at her own comment. She and Alice did many things together these days. None of them could accurately be characterized as a discussion. “Put your shoes on.”
“No.”
Julia went to the window and pointed outside. “It’s raining.”
Alice collapsed to a sit on the floor. “No.”
“We’re going to the diner. Remember the diner? We were there last week. Yummy pie. Put your shoes on.”
“No. Smelly shoes.”
Julia threw up her hands in dramatic despair. “All right, then. You stay here with Jake and Elwood. I’ll bring you home some pie.” She went into the kitchen. With slow, exaggerated movements she gathered her keys and purse, then put on her coat. She was halfway to the door when she heard Alice stand up.
“Girl go?”
Julia didn’t let herself smile as she turned around. Alice stood there, her little face scrunched in a scowl that was equal parts worry and anger. Her overalls were splattered with paint from their last art project. Julia meant to be firm, to say I’m sorry, you can’t go without shoes—not to a restaurant and pretend to go on her way while Alice hurriedly put on her shoes. That was what she would have done with an ordinary stubborn child.
Instead, Julia went to her and knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye. “Remember our talk about rules?”
“Good girl. Bad girl.”
Julia winced at the characterization, but rules of behavior were a complex idea. They took years to process and understand; it was one of the hallmarks of socialization. Societies only existed in the presence of rules that governed people’s behavior. “Some places make little girls wear shoes.”
“Girl no like.”
“I know, honey. How ’bout this: no shoes in the car. You put them on in town and take them off when we leave. Okay?”
Alice frowned in thought. “No socks.”
“Okay.”
Alice dutifully crossed the room and got her shoes out of the box by the front door. Without bothering with a coat, she went outside.
As she stepped onto the porch, a cloud crossed the sky overhead, casting the yard in shadow. The drizzling rain turned to tiny flakes of snow. They kissed Alice’s dark head and upturned face, immediately turning to droplets of freezing water.
“Look, Jewlee! Prittee.”
It was snowing and Alice was barefooted. Perfect.
Julia grabbed Alice’s coat and scooped the girl into her arms, carrying her to the car. She was halfway there when she heard the phone ring.
“That’s probably Aunt Ellie, telling us to watch the snow.” She strapped Alice into the car seat.
“Icky. Tight. Bad,” Alice said, running through her words for displeasure. “Smelly.”
“It does not smell and it keeps you safe.”
That shut Alice up.
Julia put a CD in the player and drove away.
Alice listened to the Pete’s Dragon soundtrack seven times without pausing. Her favorite song was “Candle on the Water.” Every time it ended, she cried out “Again!” until Julia complied.
Finally, they pulled into a spot in front of the Rain Drop and parked.
The song snapped off.
“Again?”
“No, Alice. Not now.” Julia leaned sideways and tried to put Alice’s clammy feet into her boots. It was like trying to put surgical gloves on wet hands. “Next time, I’m going to the mat for socks.”
She got out of the car and came around to Alice’s side. Opening the door, she smiled. “You ready?”
Fear flashed through Alice’s eyes, but she nodded.
“You’re such a brave girl.” Julia helped Alice out of the seat.
Alice moved slowly toward the restaurant, staring down at her feet.
“Don’t be afraid, Alice. I’m right here. I won’t let go.”
Alice clung so tightly it hurt, but didn’t say a word.
Julia opened the diner’s door. A bell tinkled overhead. At the sound, Alice shrieked and threw herself at Julia.
She bent down to hug the girl, held her tightly.
The Grimm sisters were at the cash register, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They’d obviously turned in unison at the noise, for now they were staring at Alice. Rosie Chicowski was behind them, tucking a pencil in her pink, beehived hair. To the left, an old logger sat alone in a booth.
Everyone was staring at Julia and Alice.