Tock shrugged. “She did it to Margaret Thatcher. Gerald Ford. Leonid Brezhnev.” She winced a little. “The family rabbi.”
Charlie shrugged. “So?”
“Well, if she can do that to a man of God, what will she do to you idiots?”
*
Shay forced himself into a very uncomfortable position on the floor beside his daughter, pulling his long legs in and crossing them so that he didn’t kick Princess in the face. Dani had seated herself on the floor, right by the puppies and their mother.
His daughter had taken a big wooden box from the backyard and filled it with thick, warm blankets. She sat outside the box but stretched her arm in to gently pet one of the sleeping pups while some of the others nursed from their mother. It was a serene moment, but he didn’t like the look of sadness on his daughter’s face. He never wanted her to be sad, but he knew from his own experience that parents could only do so much. Being sad was just part of life. What he didn’t want—and what always worried him deep inside—was for her to wallow. Keane wallowed. Shay didn’t want his daughter to become like Keane.
“You’re not staying up all night watching them,” he told her.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Their mother knows how to take care of them.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t help her. These little guys have needs, and we should help as much as we can.”
That was the moment when Shay noticed that she’d adjusted the AC so that it felt as if the house was being heated rather than cooled. In the summer.
“What’s going on with the temperature?”
“According to the book, puppies need to be kept warm.”
“Your uncles aren’t going to like that.”
“My uncles are not defenseless, innocent pups. They can grab a fan.”
Shay dropped his head quickly. He didn’t want her to see him smile. He wasn’t laughing at her, but she might think he was. His Dani was very sensitive to what she considered insults.
“Uh . . . did you get the”—he hated saying the next word—“text . . . from your mom?”
“Yes. And before you ask, I’m fine. She said I could go with them, but I’d rather drive nails in my hand than watch a bunch of gross boys run around like idiots.”
“Okay.”
He saw her look at him from the corner of her eye before she asked, “Are you okay with me staying here until Mom is done doing summer football stuff for the boys?”
“Why are you asking me stupid questions?”
Now she looked directly at him. “It wasn’t a stupid question. It was polite. You should never assume people have time for a houseguest.”
“Dani, you’re my daughter. You’re not a houseguest. You’re my daughter and you live here just like you live with your mom. This is your house as much as it’s mine.”
“Uncle Finn says he paid for the house.”
“Uncle Finn is delusional!” he snapped before getting control. “I put in the down payment.”
“But Uncle Keane says—”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I’m not having this argument again.”
The sides of her mouth turned up a little as she fought not to smile at his annoyance. “Okay. But you may want to check in with Gran, because she seems to think this house belongs to—”
“Oh, my God! This family!” He smiled at his daughter’s giggling and said, “Tomorrow. What’s the plan? Math camp, right?”
“No. Puppies. They need to go to the vet. According to the book—”
“Please don’t mention that book again tonight. Okay? We’ll just figure it all out in the morning. But whatever we do, I can’t miss team practice. Keane is not going to be okay with me missing that.”
“Uncle Mean will have to suck it up. The puppies come first.”
“You’re free to argue that point with him—”
“And I will.”
“—but let’s not go into this situation looking for a fight with the man you call Uncle Mean.”
“He’s not mean to me,” she replied. “He’s just mean to everyone else.”
Dani suddenly rested against his arm. “And thanks, Daddy.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Just felt like saying it.”
“Yeah. I totally get that.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Deacon.”
Dani sat up and glared at her father. “Why did you give me a football nickname?”
“You can pretend it’s religious.”
“But it’s not. You named me after Deacon Jones!”
“The man came up with ‘sacking the quarterback.’ He was part of the Fearsome Foursome. He was the secretary of defense! Just like you are . . . by protecting these puppies.”
Shay spread his arms wide and grinned, proud of how he’d made that whole thing work.
His daughter’s face, however, scrunched into an expression of obvious disgust, and she again hit him with “Oh . . . Daddy.”
*
“Why don’t I handle your grandmother?” Charlie asked. “And leave the rest of you out of it? Because I know you weren’t calling me an idiot.”
“I was not,” Tock replied. “I was definitely not calling you that.”
“Look”—Charlie stood, the coyote still on her shoulders—“I’ve already dealt with your grandmother before. We’ve had tea. You guys don’t even have to be involved.”
“That works for me.”
The voice came from the other side of the living room, and Tock’s teammates reacted as she would expect them to. Mads, Streep, and Nelle pulled out the handguns they had tucked into the back of their jeans or shorts. Max unleashed two of the six blades she had strapped to her back, one in each hand. And Charlie had a blade in one hand and a gun in the other. While the other four waited to see who had managed to sneak up on them, Charlie immediately let her blade fly; she probably didn’t want to disturb the neighbors by firing her gun.
Tock didn’t do anything, though. Because she instantly recognized the voice.
Her grandmother’s head moved to the side just enough to avoid the blade while she continued to eat from a plate of reheated spaghetti ladled with the sauce they’d brought back from Charlie’s house and stowed in the refrigerator nearly an hour ago.
Meaning her grandmother had been somewhere in the house all this time. Just . . . hanging out.
Standing by the hallway on the other side of the living room, which led to the kitchen, she slurped spaghetti into her mouth while calmly gazing at the others. Not even acknowledging Tock.
She gestured at the food with her fork. “This . . . is amazing. You made this, yes, Charlie?”
Charlie nodded but didn’t verbally reply.
“So good. I have been around the world many times, and this might be the best meat sauce I have ever had.” She took in another mouthful before motioning at the team with her fork. “Keep going,” she mumbled through her food. “Don’t mind me. I’m just eating.”
“I have to say”—Charlie looked at the others—“you getting in here without us knowing . . . that’s impressive.”