Page 128 of Salty Pickle

Mom comes in, her eyes on the baby, but she does the right thing and greets Lucy first. Only once everyone has been introduced do we relinquish Julian.

They order food and dote on the baby. Dad takes me aside and asks what the heck kind of ring Lucy is wearing?

“We haven’t had time to go ring shopping. Lucy isn’t fancy.”

He nods. “I’d fix that.”

“Did you check on that other matter for me?”

“I did. If it’s out of your reach, Axel and I can help.” He opens the bag of baby things they brought and passes me a sheaf of papers.

The number is high. I’ll have to sell everything I own. Ferrari included.

Dumb thing doesn’t have a proper back row for a car seat anyway.

Mom calls out to us. “Ronan, bring me that rattle that belonged to Court. I want a picture of Julian with it.”

Dad digs through the bag and pulls out a toy with the head of Mickey Mouse on a stick.

“That’ll give him nightmares,” I say.

“Oh, hush,” Mom says, reaching for it. “You loved it.” She shakes it at Julian. “Lookie, sweet boy. It’s Dada’s rattle.”

“I better take pictures,” Dad says. “Why don’t you go make a call before the close of business?”

Lucy looks up at me as I escape to the bedroom, but she stays with my parents and Julian.

I dial the number of the holding company on the page. The property isn’t currently for sale, but I’m ready to play “Let’s Make a Deal.”

39

LUCY

It’s wild to be without the baby.

I wave at Mom and Dad as Court backs down the driveway in the SUV he bought when we moved to the Airbnb house.

Then I frantically roll down the window.

“Don’t forget the bag balm! He’s got a spot of diaper rash on his right side!”

“We won’t!” Mom calls. She lifts Julian’s hand to make him wave.

I roll up the window, then roll it down again. “There’s two extra bags of breast milk in your freezer! Thaw them in hot water, not the microwave!”

“We’ve got it!” Dad calls.

Court pauses at the curb.

I look at him. “Are we going?”

“I’m giving you a second to see if you think of anything else.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. It’s only a couple of hours.” I wave at the steering wheel. “Let’s go.”

But as soon as Court lifts his foot from the brake, I hang out the window again. “His favorite song right now is Look What You Made Me Do. Play that if he’s fussy.”

Mom waves her hand dismissively, as if there’s no way she’s playing that song.

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