Page 131 of Again, In Autumn

I announce, “Fran, what do you want?”

“Open the door!”

“No.”

“Why?”

Glancing down at the goose pimples on my chilly exposed body, I reply, “Well…I’m naked.”

A snort of laughter under the bed.

A pause on the other side of the door. “Then put something on and open the door,” she says.

I collect the robe from a chair, my pajamas and underwear strewn on the floor with Adam’s smokey jeans, shirt, and jacket. I can’t let her in here and she’ll break down the door faster than I can clean this up. After tying the sash around my covered body, I open the door.

She backs up as I step out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to control my breathing.

Her eyes narrow. She’s dressed for the day, her makeup’s on, and her bag sits on the outside of her door. “You slept in. You never sleep in.”

“I drank too much last night,” I lie. “Needed to sleep it off.”

She’s not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I cross my arms across the robe and nod at a couple walking down the hallway, doubting this is the scene Mackenzie envisions for his establishment.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Nine,” she answers.

“Nine?” Wow. I did not expect that.

“Breakfast is served until ten, so you’d better get a move on. The kids are getting antsy so we’re going to run around outside for a little bit.” Her neck cranes down the hallway. “We haven’t seen Adam this morning, either. Do you know what room he’s in?”

I pretend to think about it. “Um, I think the gray room?”

Please don’t let there be a gray room she can pound on the door of.

Francesca carefully rubs the inner corner of her eye and says, “Well, we might just end up going home. I’ve got to get the turkey in the oven and Grayson wants to watch the parade. The girls are with us too, so you find Adam and you two come head back in your car, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Why are you all of a sudden giving me thumbs up?”

I notice my finger placement and raised arm. I drop them both. “Sorry.”

“Whatever, weirdo.” She picks up her bag and heads toward the stairs. She stops. “Oh, hey, did you get a call from Dad last night?”

“I haven’t looked at my phone.”

“Weird, he called me, but he didn’t leave a message,” she says.

“Maybe he realized it was Thanksgiving,” I suggest. It’s still an out-of-character phone call.

She shrugs. “I’ll call him back later. See you at home.”

I wave goodbye and sneak back into the room. “You can come out now,” I tell Adam.

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