“Junior bridesmaid, then,” Melissa said. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” It was lucky that Ophelia was on the short side. Little kids were cuter in weddings, but they could steal the show, too. Ophelia would not. She’d have to tell Hannah to book a trial run for straightening Phee’s hair, too. (She’d started calling her niece Phee since they’d moved to Wellfleet, feeling slightly closer to the girl in the new house.)
They pulled up to the pillared driveway of Stella Maris, and it was still a thrill. “Home, sweet home!” Brad said, and Melissa laughed. Tonight would be wonderful. She’d hired a cook, now that she didn’t have to earn her keep as she had with Dennis, and Chef Paul had prepared coq au vin and roasted baby brussels sprouts with diced prosciutto (she chose the meals each week, and Paul did all the work). Melissa would get a lovely pinot noir from the wine cellar—Bradley needed to drink more than just malbec. They could have a glass while sitting on the deck, watching the sunset. So relaxing. So elegant. So enviable.
“Something smells weird,” Ophelia said as they went in. “I hope it’s not dinner.”
It was a smell Melissa knew far too well. Skunk. Her father used to shoot them for fun when he was drunk. Even when they didn’t spray, they smelled. Apparently, they were plentiful here on the Cape. She’d have to make sure Hannah took steps to keep them away on the wedding day.
“There’s a skunk somewhere outside, Bradley, honey.” She made wide, pleading eyes at him. “Do something.”
“No worries, babe,” he said. “Do we have any mothballs? The smell will make them leave.”
“I have no idea,” she said. “Let me text Lucia and see.”
She went into the house, hands on her phone, and texted the housekeeper. Do we have mothballs? We need to chase a skunk away. She glanced around. “Gosh, it’s worse in here. It must’ve walked right under the window.” Or it might be under the deck. Shoot!
So much for sex followed by a nice evening sitting outside. Dang it! That was her favorite part of the day. Fine. They’d sit in the living room. Maybe she’d turn on the gas fire and send Ophelia to bed early (not that the child liked spending time with them).
Melissa went into the living room, where Ophelia was standing by the grand piano. Since Phee had dropped violin, Melissa was trying piano lessons. “Are you finally going to practice, Ophelia? That’d be a nice change. I would’ve loved piano lessons when I was your age. It makes an impression, knowing about music. It’s very classy. You’ve already given up on the violin, but—”
“Shut up and don’t move,” Ophelia said.
“Ophelia! Don’t talk to me like that, you—”
“There’s a skunk under the piano.”
Melissa froze. No. Not in her perfect house! “What should we do?” she whispered.
“I dunno. It’s pretty cute, though.” Ophelia glanced over her shoulder at Melissa. “Where’s Teeny?”
Oh, God! Teeny, the Chihuahua Melissa had bought Ophelia just a few weeks ago. What if the skunk sprayed the sweet little dog? What if it got into a fight with her and killed poor Teeny? Wait. No. Teeny was closed in Ophelia’s bedroom, because she tended to piddle when left alone (and Melissa sure as heck didn’t want the dog piddling anywhere else in the house).
Ophelia reached out toward the skunk.
“Don’t touch it!” Melissa hissed.
“I think it’s a baby.”
Melissa inched over to Ophelia, making sure to stay behind her. It was not a baby. It was, in fact, as big as a large cat. “It’s a rodent,” she whispered. It was blinking at them both, tail down, looking a little surprised to be inside. Its claws were unpleasantly long. “Go to your room, Phee. It might bite you.”
“Melissa. It won’t bite me. At worst, it’ll spray the room, so don’t scare it. Besides, I like animals. Hi, honey.” She squatted down. “Hi, baby skunk.”
“Don’t!” Melissa hissed.
“Babe, I found them! They were in the garage,” Brad said, and he strode into the living room, all male pride at having found the mothballs. She threw out her hand and he lurched to a stop. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s right here!” Melissa whispered.
“The skunk?”
“Yes, the skunk! Lower your voice!”
The skunk took a few waddles toward Ophelia.
“Ophelia!” Brad hissed. “It could be rabid!”
“Oh, my God,” Melissa whispered.
“It likes me,” Phee said. “Right, baby skunk?”
“That’s not a baby,” Bradley said.
“Mr. Fairchild,” Ophelia said, “make yourself useful and get a carrot or something.”
Mr. Fairchild. God, the girl resisted everything! She’d called Dennis “Pop” after a few days, and poor Bradley was trying so hard. But the girl had a point. “Do it,” Melissa ordered quietly, and he backed into the kitchen.
The skunk did seem to like Ophelia. “Lure it out of the house,” Melissa whispered. “I’ll go open the slider, and you lead it over—”
“I know what ‘lure’ means, Melissa,” Ophelia said, not looking away from the skunk. It waddled a little closer.
“If that thing sprays in here, we’ll never get the smell out,” Melissa said.
“I know. Stop talking. You’re scaring it. Don’t listen to her, baby skunk. You’re just fine.”
For a second, Melissa almost liked Ophelia. Her confidence in this moment, her attitude, her steady gaze, her . . . her fearlessness.
Well. Melissa slowly glided toward the sliding glass doors that lined the entire back of the house and carefully, carefully opened one, then slid the screen door open. “Ready when you are,” she whispered. The fug of the skunk was heavy in the air. Lucia was going to have to fix that tomorrow. Make that tonight.
“Aw! Look at your li’l nose,” Ophelia said. “Are you so cute? You are.”
All those years of elocution lessons, and still the twang was in her voice. Sometimes, Melissa thought she did it on purpose.
Brad came in holding a loaf of bread and a carrot.
“You gonna make it a sandwich?” Ophelia said, glancing over her shoulder. “Bring me the carrot.”
“Is that what they eat?” Melissa asked.
“No, it’s what you eat, and you’re the one I’m trying to lure out of the house,” Ophelia said.
“Don’t be disrespectful to your mother—” Brad attempted.
“She’s not my mother,” Ophelia said in a singsong voice. “Try to get that through your head, Mr. PhD.” She reached back, and Bradley inched forward and put the carrot in her hand. “Do you like carrots, honey?” she asked, offering the carrot. “Do you?”
“Now start backing away,” Melissa whispered. “Toward me.”
“Have you two ever heard the word ‘micromanaging’?” Ophelia asked.
And then the skunk abruptly fell on its side.
“Is it dead?” Melissa whispered. “Did the rabies kill it?”
“You are as dumb as a box of hair, you know that?” Ophelia said. “It’s breathing, isn’t it?”
“What should we do?” Melissa asked, her anxiety spiking. She’d need to do some deep meditation after this. “It smells horrible even if it hasn’t sprayed.”
Ophelia thought a minute. “Get me a towel, Mr. Fairchild,” she said.
“Okay,” he whispered, and tiptoed out.
Great. One of her super-plush Turkish towels in mineral gray. A second later, Bradley returned with one and once again approached Ophelia. She took it, covered the skunk, and then made to pick it up.
“Don’t!” Melissa said. “Let Bradley do it. He’s the man. What if it bites you, Phee?”
“What if it bites me?” Bradley said. “I don’t know anything about wild animals. Lillie was the one who dealt with—”
“Shush,” Ophelia said. She slid her hands under the skunk and lifted it slowly. The critter didn’t move. Phee took a step, then another, then another, coming closer and closer to the open door. “I’m just gonna walk down to the shore and leave it,” she said. “If it’s dying, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
Melissa had to give her credit. She was so calm and mature. So much like Kaitlyn in so many ways, bad choices aside. Thank God the windows were closed, since it had been humid today, and Melissa preferred air-conditioning anyway. If the skunk sprayed, the damage would be mitigated (word of the day!).
Ophelia was getting closer. What if the skunk woke up and bit her? Melissa shot her fiancé a look. “You’re letting a girl do a man’s work,” she whispered.
“Sexist,” Ophelia murmured.