Helen play-shrieked, and then had to leave Kate for a moment to ring up a few customers. As soon as she finished the transactions, she came back and continued the conversation.
“No. I just don’t think it’s that strange for a big family to buy a big property. Especially if they’re going to live in it year-round. It makes more sense than some old wealthy couple buying a summer home that’s so huge they get lost on the way to the mailbox.”
“True,” Kate conceded. “But I really thought you’d be more interested in the Delos family. You’ll be graduating with a few of them.”
Helen stood there as Delos ran around her head. The name meant nothing to her. How could it? But some echoey part of her brain kept repeating “Delos” over and over.
“Lennie? Where’d you go?” Kate asked. She was interrupted by the first members of the book club coming early, wound up and already in the throes of wild speculation.
Kate’s prediction was right. The Unbearable Lightness of Being was no match for the arrival of new year-rounders, especially since the rumor mill had revealed that they were moving here from Spain. Apparently, they were Boston natives who had moved to Europe three years ago in order to be closer to their extended family, but now, suddenly, they’d decided to move back. It was the “suddenly” part that everyone spent the most time discussing. The school secretary had hinted to a few of the book club members that the kids had been enrolled so far past the normal date that the parents had practically had to bribe their way in, and all sorts of special agreements had to be made to ship their furniture over in time for their arrival. It seemed like the Delos family had left Spain in a hurry, and the book club agreed that there must have been some kind of falling-out with their cousins.
The one thing Helen could confidently gather from all the chatter was that the Delos family was rather unconventional. There were two fathers who were brothers, their younger sister, one mother (one of the fathers was a widower), and five kids, all living together on the property. The entire family was supposed to be unbelievably smart and beautiful and wealthy. Helen rolled her eyes when she heard the parts of the gossip that elevated the Delos family to mythic proportions. In fact, she could barely stand it.
Helen tried to stay behind the register and ignore the excited whispering, but it was impossible. Every time she heard one of the members of the Delos family mentioned by name, it drew her attention as if it had been shouted, irritating her. She left the register and went over to the magazine rack, straightening the shelves just to give her hands something to do.
As she wiped down the shelves and stocked the candy jars, she mentally ticked the kids off in her head. Hector is a year older than Jason and Ariadne, who are twins. Lucas and Cassandra are brother and sister, cousins to the other three.
She changed the water for the flowers and rang up a few customers. Hector won’t be there the first day of school because he's still in Spain with his aunt Pandora, though no one in town knows why.
Helen pulled on a pair of shoulder-length rubber gloves and a long apron, and dug through the garbage for stray recycling items. Lucas, Jason, and Ariadne are all going to be in my grade. So I’m surrounded. Cassandra is the youngest. She's a freshman, and only fourteen.
She went to the kitchen and put a load in the industrial dishwasher. She mopped the floors and started counting the money. Lucas is such a stupid name. It’s all wrong. It sticks out like a sore thumb.
“Lennie?”
“What! Dad! Can’t you see I’m counting?” Helen said, slamming her hands down on the counter so hard she made a stack of quarters jump. Jerry held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“It’s the first day of school tomorrow,” he reminded her in his most reasonable voice.
“I know,” she responded blankly, still unaccountably irritable but trying not to take it out on her father.
“It’s almost eleven, honey,” he said. Kate came out from the back to check on the noise.
“You’re still here? I’m really sorry, Jerry,” she said, looking perplexed. “Helen, I told you to lock the front and go home at nine.”
They both stared at Helen, who had arranged every bill and every coin in neat stacks.
“I got sidetracked,” Helen said lamely.
After sharing a worried glance with Jerry, Kate took over counting the change and sent them home. Still in a daze, Helen gave Kate a kiss good-bye and tried to figure out how she had missed out on the last three hours of her life.
Jerry put Helen’s bike on the back of the Pig and started the engine without a word. He glanced over at her a few times as they drove home, but he didn’t say anything until they parked in the driveway.
“Did you eat?” he asked softly, raising his eyebrows.
“I don’t . . . yes?” Helen had no idea what or when she’d last eaten. She vaguely remembered Kate cutting her some cherries.
“Are you nervous about the first day of school? Junior year’s a big one.”
“I guess I must be,” she said absentmindedly. Jerry glanced over at her and bit his lower lip. He exhaled before speaking.
“I’ve been thinking maybe you should talk to Dr. Cunningham about those phobia pills. You know, the kind for people who have a hard time in crowds? Agoraphobia! That’s what it’s called,” he burst out, remembering. “Do you think that could help you?”
Helen smiled and ran the charm of her necklace along its chain. “I don’t think so, Dad. I’m not afraid of strangers, I’m just shy.”
She knew she was lying. It wasn’t just that she was shy. Any time she extended herself and attracted attention, even accidentally, her stomach hurt so badly it felt almost like the stomach flu or menstrual cramps—really bad menstrual cramps—but she’d sooner light her hair on fire than tell her father that.
“And you’re okay with that? I know you’d never ask, but do you want help? Because I think this is holding you back. . . .” Jerry said, starting in on one of their oldest fights.
Helen cut him off at the pass. “I’m fine! Really. I don’t want to talk to Dr. Cunningham, I don’t want drugs. I just want to go inside and eat,” she said in a rush. She got out of the Jeep.
Her father watched her with a small smile as she plucked her heavy, old-fashioned bike off the rack on the back of the Jeep and placed it on the ground. She rang the bell on her handlebar jauntily and gave her dad a grin.
“See, I’m just peachy,” she said.
“If you knew how hard what you just did would be for an average girl your age, you’d get what I’m saying. You aren’t average, Helen. You try to come off that way, but you’re not. You’re like her,” he said, his voice drifting off.
For the thousandth time Helen cursed the mother she didn’t remember for breaking her father’s sweet heart. How could anyone leave such a good guy without so much as a good-bye? Without so much as a photo to remember her by?
“You win! I’m not average, I’m special—just like everyone else,” Helen teased, anxious to cheer him up. She nudged him with her hip as she walked past him, wheeling her bike into the garage. “Now, what is there to eat? I’m starving, and it’s your week to be kitchen slave.”