The Lotterys can’t go to the Powwow this year (because let’s keep things simple, which is code for having to look after Grumps). That means it’ll be who knows how long before they see Baba — one of their real, nice grandfathers. When she hears this, Sumac so nearly blurts out, “But if his test results come back and he’s compos mentis enough, he’ll be flying home to Faro before the weekend.” She manages to keep her mouth zipped, not wanting to count chickens before they hatch; if she says it out loud, it might not happen.
The old man spends most of his time sitting in his stark room, listening to classical music on the radio. Killing time like a prisoner in solitary confinement, Sumac supposes.
On Monday morning he says no to the beach, so MaxiMum wonders aloud if maybe he’s not feeling up to the exertion in this heat. Grumps tells her he’s in the pink of health, thank you very much, and no he doesn’t need a taxi since he hasn’t forgotten how to ride a bike yet, and he stomps off to get his towel. That’s called reverse psychology; it’s how the Lotterys trick Brian into changing her socks by saying maybe she’s not able to do it all by herself.
PapaDum’s staying home, because Oak’s gone kaput in his stroller already, and also he’s going to fix those sagging shelves in the Bookery and make seafood paella. (But really because he’s a homebody who needs a Parent Break every now and then.) Whizzing along the cycle path at the back of the pack of Lotterys, Sumac stares at Grumps’s pale hairy shanks going around and around on PapaDum’s bike. She can’t help wondering what the statistics are about people of eighty-two falling off bikes.
It’s certainly true, what he said about his healthy body, so might it be true about his mind as well? Grumps doesn’t exactly seem confused to Sumac; just cross, mostly. Could the parents have made a massive mistake?
But, hm, if somebody’s got brain holes, one effect might be that he wouldn’t realize about the holes. Also, the dads and moms are pretty smart if you add up all their different smarts. And the specialists and experts — wouldn’t they have said if Grumps didn’t have dementia after all? Then again, test results take ages. So Sumac will just have to cross her fingers and wish hard to be a perfectly sized family of eleven again.
On the beach, Sic, Catalpa, and Wood undo the bungee cords attaching their flat-packed kayak to Sic’s bike and struggle to open it up. CardaMom holds a tiny PFD under one elbow and uses her hands to paste Brian’s upper half with sunblock.
“What are you putting a life jacket on the child for?” asks Grumps, wobbling on one leg as he changes behind his towel. “In my day we just jumped in, or got pushed. Learning by doing,” he quotes sarcastically. “Sink or swim.” He lets out an awful gargling laugh.
Wide-eyed, Brian slides out of CardaMom’s hands. “No poopy peefdy.”
“C’mere, slippery fish.”
“I swim no lessons like Napoleons.”
“Mm, you back-floated really well the other day,” says CardaMom, “but you still need your peefdy.”
“I swim! I swim like Napoleons!”
Grumps walks off, eyes on the horizon — as if he hasn’t just set Brian off like a firework, thinks Sumac in irritation. No goggles; he’s wearing nothing but his raggedy old swim trunks. He stalks into the lake, then stoops to plunge in. He moves like a turtle, doing a strained-looking breaststroke with his nose held above the water.
“If Brian believes she can swim,” says MaxiMum, raising her voice to be heard over the argument, “maybe she can.”
Sumac can’t believe MaxiMum’s siding with their demented grandfather!
“She’s four years old.” CardaMom grabs Brian by the back of her shorts.
“Granted, but with physical skills — think of riding a bike,” says MaxiMum. “There’s an element of sheer confidence, which may be enough.”
“Enough to let her drown like a kitten,” roars CardaMom. Then, more calmly, “Brian, until you put your peefdy on, you’re going to have to stay here with me instead of —”
“I swim, dumb fatty mother!”
CardaMom stares at her.
“Change of shift,” murmurs MaxiMum, standing up and walking between them. “You go read Pride and Prejudice in the shade, darlin’.”
“Are you seriously intending to let her go in without her PFD?”
“I’ll be right there beside her, and if she sinks I’ll pull her up.”
“If?”
As the moms squabble on, Brian’s racing toward the water.
Sumac pelts after her little sister. Grumps and his ludicrous olden-days ideas!
But MaxiMum is on Brian’s tail already, so when she plunges in face-first, MaxiMum lifts her by her armpits. “Breathe.”
“Let go,” Brian coughs.
Sumac stubs her toe on an algae-slippery rock and hisses with pain.
“I swim,” howls Brian.
“Big breath?” MaxiMum waits for it. Then puts Brian down.